Our Lives are like raindrops in the Past,
That disappear and won’t come back.
Only Love Saves, till the bitter end,
To Love and be Loved what more can there be?
To Love and be Loved is pure ecstasy,
A life fulfilled, Romantically.
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Wine mellows with age,
Do we become more sage,With age or remain,The same old fools?Trying to replay,Our past mistakes?The same old play,While still on stage.Do we ever change?
Fresh Flowers
Their beautyAnd fragilityIs shown, feltIn the lovely,Colorful dressesThey wear,Don’t abuse, the Weak!Help them,Treat them with loveAnd care,Tenderly, for they’reLike delicate flowers,Whose frail petalsNeed, SeekThis Loving CareAs does Beauty,But Both,UnfortunatelyAre abused,Everywhere.
Where are the men of valor?
That with their ‘savoir faire’Helped build this Country’s dome,A place that all Americans,So proudly called their home.Where are the men of honest heart?Whose love for country shone,And worked to achieve the betterment,For All, not just their own.Where are the men who would not take,Dictatorship of one?Who would not speak with lying words,Nor sly and twisted…
There’s something about poetry,
Is it the way the words fallThat makes it not the same?As when I talk to the Wind,Thinking it’s a game.There’s something about poetry,That makes it like the Sea,Vast, intense, endless,And full of Mystery.There’s something about Life,I simply can’t explainWhy didn’t I meet you?While I still could feel the rain,While poetry was in my blood,And…
We could have made
Being together,You’re open heartWith my, forever,You’re brilliant strains,That with love’s melodies,Ran thru my veins.We could have loved,Largely, foreverNo boredom setLove at its best,Two souls that touchCouldn’t be better.However,No one controlsAnother’s feelings,And broken heartsAre often known,For never healing.
We poets live in distant Worlds,
A word, a rhyme can be sublime,And open grand new portals.
To and Fro, Hither and Thither,
The Present is always
Worse than the Past.
Danger always, up ahead,
Tyranny, shows it’s ugly head,
Bad planning, Country bled,
Can’t contain the tears,
The yesteryears of song and fun,
Are now forgotten, gone and done
What lies ahead, is no sweet song,
For now, what’s right, Before was wrong!
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There is Nothing
To fill your day,Not all may agreeBut for me,It is just that way,And the happinessThat brings,Is enlightening,Making me look at life,In an entirely different way!Humbled by this happinessI write,Hoping also to please,Someone, SomewhereSomeday.
Do we deserve non-evolving government?
Where the Dictator, kills all drive,And all have to pay their fare share?
Poetry was meant to share,
Feelings silently come on,Here today, but then their gone,Curious how they fluctuate,Rushing in or rushing out,Strong today, tomorrow’s doubt,Yet there is something that’s sure,Love so deep and true and pure,Never losing its allure.
‘A thing of beauty is a joy for ever, ‘
To become favored in our mind,And stay in memory, for ever.
Poets know,
Flowered Rhymes,But can’t change History,PITY!
You’ve got to read everything,
If you want to find the truth,Maybe?Even look, under a Queen’s royal wig,And then be taken to the Tower,Or quickly escape,And after all this nonsense,Go take a shower.