The Flight,
The Night of Love,
When does it happen?
How does it happen?
No one can really tell,
But purple petals dress the air,
Into a thornless Rose you stare,
The Ocean opens wide its arms,
Enfolds you blindly with its charms
Your lightly flying thru the air,
You leave the Earth so far, nowhere,
You lose your heart and then your mind,
And then you say a silent prayer,
Forever promising you’ll care,
As two become just only One,
Then Life has finally begun.
When isToo much, too much?Too much thinkingToo much lovingToo much feelingToo much tryingToo much cryingToo much accusingEach other of racistBlubberToo much protestingFor nothing,For unbridled change?Where does it stop?Where does it end?In heaven or in hellWhen its so overdoneAnd its justToo much!Bordering,With insanityStaying out of touchWith realityOverboard, terrifyingBecoming a menace,A maladyNeither the 21st centuryNor the people…
It seems that only,Poets and Fools,Are still able to feelAnd behave that way.Pity!How painfulAnd sad,This is to say!
When Spring was youngAnd new,Is painful from the very start,No longer is it true.My days go by,In one big sigh,As empty as can be,Sometimes, I just sit down and cry,My heart, an escapee,For nothing of that love remains,Today, a memory.
If in Creative writing,You lovingly, succeed.
You receive one day,Full of beauty and melody,With the fragrance of surprise,Pleasant image to the eyes,That speaks a language,Never shy,But upholds sentiments,That just won’t die,And sometimes, only sometimes,May bring some tears,You have to cry.
It’s all the same,Tell me in who’s bad name,Do we get the right to kill?Our History of Blood,Going on, going on,Still the same!
