All my life,
That smile
I never had’
Said
The frustrated,
Lover
As clouds began
To gather,
And dreams
No longer swam
In the lakes
Of hidden passions.
All had died
In one last sigh
As Night
Gave Life’s door,
A great big slam!
Without, compassion.
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Does Love
I wonder,Or is itJust a clap of thunderThat persists,A magic wonderThat can fraillyDisappear when loveNo longer exists,Or wants to be near.
Poet Fools,
But in Real world,It’s War and Grease,So few attempts,To harmonize,Instead we’d rather,Paralyze,The Planet, Moon,The Ocean, fair,Because so Few,Do really Care!
Funny the things that thrill us,
That become part of our existence,That we put up on a throne.Funny how we meet them,In a book, a film, a poem,There we find our Heroes,Made of dreams, not flesh and bone.Funny how we idealize,What we cannot be,Always wanting to be more,Than our reality.
Love climbs up,
And invades us with its skill,It perfumes the lovely rose,That suddenly in us grows,Love sings everywhere it goes.Love is like a sudden chill,That remains and works its will,Can’t forget its ever thrill,Love that’s lost, remains Love still,Love is love and constantly,It’s the All that makes us Be.
There is a sort of
Since Robert M.SmithHas gone.Poem HunterNot the same!Its luster and shinePoetic grace,Gone!Feel sort ofOut of sortsAnd sort of numb.
War can start
But Who can Stop,What Never should begin!