Way,
Loving life,
And all it has
To say,
Written love,
Is where they
Feel fulfilled,
In those poems
That the soul
Has written,
That no force
On earth,
Can ever stop
Or take away!
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Potentially explosive,
Poets defy,With their rhythmic cry,Thru all our times,The odds.And if words make it,Out of their pen,What joy is felt,Forever, then!
Poetry and Art
No force on EarthCan kill the powerOf self-expression!Because,The creative mind,Is always Free,No one can controlIts Liberty,That’s our Victory!Over tyranny.
Where does reality begin
Are we meant to know,What we should not know,Or even goWhere we should not go?Dreams are unconventionalAnd open seams,That the mind,Truly cannot comprehend.Reality and dreams bendOur lives,How do we balance theseTwo extremes,And manage to stay alive?
Poets are just stupid fools,
Living way into the clouds,Swaying Words, not clear nor loud,Dreaming, things will one day change,When they know so very well,Life’s less heaven and more hell.
We can’t all be good,
Not to harm those around us,Or make innocent Roses, cry.
What is a Poet?
The Soul of all language,A Birth newly found,A Sea of expression,Unleashed, without bound.Within Human madness,A Poet is Love,That mourns now and always,The death of a Dove.