They linger on,
Outdo the rest.
Never tedious,
Never false
Always yours.
So never lost.
Of all feelings
Love’s the best,
We can’t resist
That inner poem’s
Irresistible, caress.
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Ever so grateful
No greater rewardFor a poet,Than to be read,And a few words said,More welcomeThan Golden Thread.Thank you!
A glow of gold
The Poet’sWritten words,So naturally were bornSo that in trance,All those that readWere, inevitablyAnd willinglyJust held.A master of her ArtIt was not the handThat wrote,But her kindAnd precious heartWhere feelings felt,Were soft and pureAnd blessedMixed with her tearsThey formed a partOf all the lovingThings,That Poetry does best.
If poets ruled the World,
Nothing,Would get doneBut at least liesAnd deep corruption,Would not fly,Too busy writing poemsTo send people to die,Or chop upEach other’s hide,With intriguesConvoluted by, very foulAnd criminally inducedPolitical rot and actions!
It doesn’t STOP!
Treacherously odious,Human conditionThat makes us want to fool,Hurt others,Even kill them!When they are our brothers.OH, despicable ones!That harm and plunderThe innocent,You are embedded with evilAnd the Devil’s thunder,Let all the weightOf truth and justice,Fall upon you,So you regret,All the evilThat in our HistoryDisgracefully, you’ve set.
Money is spent,
Lose theirGolden HoodsWith time,But kind wordsStay,And are rememberedEveryday.