Part of a Poet’s heart.
Similar Posts
It’s not what
As much asWhat you feel.Poetry,Expresses,FeelingsThat no longerThe heartCan conceal,Making us free,Never afraidTo feel or to beWho we really are,Who we really,Can be,The sky has no limit,I love you,Poetry!
Poets know,
Flowered Rhymes,But can’t change History,PITY!
A poem this,
So many things,That don’t come back,All effort gone,In Life itself,As Time slides off,A hidden shelf,And all’s not well,In Fairyland,For those who,In a poem dwell,Thinking that time,Can be pulled back,And will some how,Forget to act.
What hides behind,
What does the mindPerceive as true?When we readWhat has been written,How can we really know,What’s meant to brew?For language,Even for the writerReflects, not always argument,Ambiguity in language,Never totally absent.
The sweetness
On our feelings does impose,A purity, a peace that glows,That only Nature can compose.A Rose does impose,Beauty,Thru visual power,Symbolizing,Love,Therefore being,Poets and Angeles,Favorite flower.
I worship Beauty,
Where inspiration,Can grow, I’m told,The Soul with wings,The Heart that sings,And sees Creation,In everything.I worship Deserts,Where Cacti spring,The desert flower,Changes everything,I want to fill them,With cooling verse,Describing all,That’s humanly, terse.I worship Oceans,The liquid Blue,That changes color,And is always new,Amazing life pool,Of Mystery,The seas have always,Spoken to me.And finally, I worship you,The best living spirit,I ever,…