Of dreams once dreamt to no avail,
Of Loves that were appealing.
Poems are made of inner veils,
That cannot hide deep feelings,
They synthesize, all that is wise,
Console us, help heart’s healing.
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Happy, sad
So, the PendulumOf Life!Dare we askWhy?
Poetry,
A poet’s bloodThe air he breathsThe love he seeksA living mustAnd Words,Words, from the soul,Expressing all.If one dayAll this goes away,The poet, diesSo strong are,These living ties.
Actually,
What can you changeWith a Rhyme?But since Time,Means nothing to me,I shall waste of itAs much as I want,Writing Poetry.
To Everyone, his love,
Others tea,Even chocolate,Loved, can be,But Poetry’sThe One for me,It brings, me LifeAnd keeps me Free.
Where do you come from
After so much,Read and writtenYou never ceaseTo Amaze me,I still stand in aweIn front of youStill feel,Like by lighteningSmitten,And so, insignificant.Oh, goddessOf emotions and feelingsLuminously, sublime,Eternally generousForever divine.
When I read Poetry,
Happens to me,Hard to define,What it is,It is a feeling of the divine,A renaissance in peace,Indescribable happiness,When I read Poetry,I’m blessed,And ready,For all the rest!