Had
Is rather, nice,
The Architecture
Is by Life,
Weathered
And the Memories
Have no price
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There’s a special language,
That only sensitive hearts,Can feelTo which their whole beingKneels,A language that transcends logicThat goes beyond the written handFlooding everything with Magic.
You want to express,
So much can’t be explained,The origins, depths of reason,Happenings, FeelingsSo many of Life’s strange dealingsWe live in a state of perpetual frightTrying to get things rightAnd not succeeding.Writing, reading, thinkingLike imprisoned hamstersGoing round and roundOn that, cruelest of wheelsIn most miserable cage,Going no where,Leading sometimes toDeep inner rage,But never opening, totallyLife’s great Mysteries,And fathomless, secrets.Are…
Literature and especially Poetry,
Art, a glass of fine French wine,I need no other trophies.
Oh Love,
Love!The deepest throbThat hearts can feelAs mortals kneelBefore your alterLife begets,This tender,Everlasting, feelingOf sweet surrender,That only Loving heartsCan ever have,On learningLife’s secret meaning.
Yes, A good Poet is
And as long as heartAnd language exist,A source of joy, love and peace,No favoritism intended,But good PoetryCan also beA life’s new lease.
Safe keep your feelings very deep
As long as Love,Is strong, not weakLove’s feeling flowers from within,It’s Love that always makes us winFor it is right and never wrong,Becoming life’s most precious song.