Poetry’s their ultimate measure,
While lies and bitter words,
Are no one’s human treasure.
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As deep as deep can be,
Felt so endlessly,Miraculously.Love, blending,Two lives, two hearts,In deep passionate motion,Heavenly music,A chorus of Stars,Love lights lovers’ path,In never ending devotionThat will forever last,As the deepest of emotions.
What is it about Poetry?
Is it because,Your secrets it knows,Sooths you, as it goes,When you cry,And in realityYou don’t even know Why.< br>y
Eat your Veggies
‘Beyond meat’Has made it so,After eatingWhat’s the next step?Where are we supposedTo go?To Heaven or to Hell,Concerning, That!I assure youNo one, yet!In this crazy WorldWhatever!Seems to definitely,Know…
Around madness
Is it sadnessIn reality,That pushOur many themes?Looking,For the impossibleDoesn’t even pay,Even if dreamWe may,Because lifeJust doesn’tWork that way.
Liberty is,
And say, I am thisI am me and my individuality,And I have a right to be,As long as I respect,The rights of others,And act responsibly,Respectfully,And realize,That nothing in life is free,Nothing of value,Nothing that will really last,Can be gotten without toil and suffering,That is what precious Liberty,Is to me.
Prose and Poetry,
A Tree and a Red Rose,Pillars of society,Communication grows,Prose sustains our culture,Poetry our pose,As Dreamers and Abductors,Of word, seduction growsAs feelings rightly flow.Prose can tell long stories,Of human interaction,While Poetry finds Love,The superior satisfaction.There is no competition,For the tools are quite the same,Both are born from same affliction,To purge the soul in vain,And the writer’s…