To copy
Another one’s style,
You can’t fake
What can only be written,
When felt,
Deeper than inside.
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Stories, Stories everywhere,
What is it about Life, portrayedThat answers seen to always evade?
A poem can be,
You receive one day,Full of beauty and melody,With the fragrance of surprise,Pleasant image to the eyes,That speaks a language,Never shy,But upholds sentiments,That just won’t die,And sometimes, only sometimes,May bring some tears,You have to cry.
Never judge a poem,
If you want to know,It’s refusal or appealJust ask:‘How did it make you feel? ‘
Beyond love,
To describe the indescribable,Needs very special words,If I had ever met you,I would have loved you that way,With undying passion,Intensely, as saints prayAffectionately and tenderly,In admiration and dismay,Loving you, deliriously,In the most emotional way,That no poetic words,Could ever begin to say.
Unbelievable!
We don’t get along,Since the beginningOf HistoryWar, Hate, Abuse!Persecution and Injustice,Have been going, Strong,Take a long lookIn Time’s MirrorAnd seriously ask,As you try to wipeThe fog,Off the glass,‘What’s wrong with us? ‘
Do birds know why they fly?
Do tears know why they cry?Do we know what we think we know?Maybe it’s all just an illusion,That never tells us, what is so.