Where Poetry,
Is!
Exists,
Only to be loved
And shared,
As a heart-throbbing
Miracle
Of It!
Happy is the poet
That, because
Of this fulfilling
Inextinguishable,
Pure love,
Is never really
Alone,
And only lives
For it.
Similar Posts
So many things
So much was left behindThe love not had,The dreams not filledThe words I could notFind…The hands of TimeWill not turn backNo matter, how we tryNor how, loudly we cry.
So much to do
Available!Time,Which I mentalizeAnd squander,Daydream,Write poetry,In wonderRemembering,Old films thatStill hold meHostage,As priorities,Old thunderThat loiters,In the slumberOf my dreams,The gnawing onesThe most beloved ones,Those that I knowWon’t come trueBut aide imagination,And sometimesSomehow areThe animationThat helps us cope,And see Life thru.
Roses,
Trying to cope with being alone,Roses, as you sway,In the dying light of day,Memory winds play,A saddened song.Remembering,Past images, display,Moments, times foregone,Then, without request,Time stops or rests,And Life loses,What is its best:‘A tender smile,A pressing hand,The Look of LoveA passion grand.’You close your eyesYour heart just cries.It’s hard to breath,The wind is cold,Pain does not…
Today,
In an electrified, hypnotically dangerous environmentComputerized and dehumanized, this World of Social MediaWith its endless and mostly pointless Chitter-Chats,And that’s That.
Even if you did not love me,
For in True Love there is no pride,There is no shame.Even if you did not love me,My Love for you would not be tame,It is my Life and my domain,It is my happiness and pain.Even if you did not love me,I’d cross the ocean and the sky,Just to be near you,And hold your hand,Before I…
Absolute
Participating withThe belovedIn a Springtime PaintingOf Bliss,Where Love is,All that mattersAll that existsAll that will everBe wanted inEcstasy’s kiss.
Where Poetry,
Is!
Exists,
Only to be loved
And shared,
As a heart-throbbing
Miracle
Of It!
Happy is the poet
That, because
Of this fulfilling
Inextinguishable,
Pure love,
Is never really
Alone,
And only lives
To adore,
The beauty of..
Poetry’s living soul.
Similar Posts
Age,
LostBut, a beautiful SoulNever stops feeling,At any cost,Whether young or oldFor Feelings are timeless,And so is Love,The deepest one of all.
The brain of a poet,
Thinking, thinking,All the time,Loving poetry,His greatest crime.Poets, redefine things,Enlighten things,Create feelings from words,In case you hadn’t heard.
The sky was on fire
When love meets desire,Life gets a new start,And all that’s around you,Awakens, new dawn,And saying, ‘I love you’Is Life’s hope, reborn.
Most people are not affectionate,
It hurts to see,How cold and unstimulating,Most of ‘inhumanity’ can be.
Poetry can be gay.
What it should never be,Is Mad,For madness belongs,To the world of fools,Where life is just shattered,And there are no rules,Poetry is feeling and hope and dismay,A promise of Wonders that people can say.
Today,
Admired and desired,The artist seeks his placeIn a World so cold and uninspiredIt’s a slow and difficult raceDisorientation,Is generally the bitter case.