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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There is,
In writing poetry,Involving secret treasuresOf deep intimacy,Expressing to all measure,The Soul’s affinityWith feelings that reach pleasure,And invade you secretlyIn this creative wagerWhere Emotions felt are free,But posses you totally.
Where is Justice?
And Truth,Where is She?In all the Things,We are told did not happen,In all the Things,We were not supposed to See?But they did happen!All the murders of 6 million, innocent,No crime committed,All decency of man died in those campsAnd to this day, they won’t admit it,But they knew, they all knew,And they didn’t care,My God, why…
There are Umm poems,
That are always delicious,Worth the read and worth the write.
I simply write,
Not birds in flight,I cling to them,They warm my lifeWith feelings deep,So many memoriesI must keep.We travel close,My words and I,They are my hankyWhen I cry,An so I tryTo pay them backWith all the loveThat they deserve,I care for themAs for a child,So sweet, so tenderAnd so mild,I write them downAnd we, converseAs friends would…
To be moved to the roots
To still feel fully alive,Only Poetry does that to me,It’s truly been,The Love of my Life.
The Past, a blur,
The Future, uncertain,The World, a black curtain.