Not interested in money,
From flower to flower,
Flips, does she,
In her life’s dance
She’s a conformist,
Not a sinner or a spinner,
Not even worried
About what’s for dinner
Just goes from day to day,
Nonchalantly, free
How lucky we would be
If our lives were as simple
As the life of the Busy Bee.
Who is killing it,To get on top?Watch out,Great danger ahead,Manipulation and LiesCan be disastrous,And mental sanity block!Those who are not in powerWill try everything,To get it back!
I read the other poets,And nothing seems to go,The words are dry and musty,The rose perfume not there,The essence of your presence,Is not found anywhere.I’m lost among the shadows,The memories, how things were,How will I live tomorrow?If you’re no longer there.
Can also give a tear,But best of all,It makes you feel,That human warmth is real.
For precious light, sereneSo rarely felt or seen,I delve into sweet Poetry,The Arts that have no scheme,I look for Nature’s beauty,The peace that’s born within,And try to hide,From human tide,Where only tempests win.
To love the same things,To fill the other’s soul,With tender, soft caress,With Happiness, you blessMakes Love,If not Heaven, not much less.
Y que la felicidad no existe.Poets, dreamers without smiles,They know that life is sad,Happiness, a passing fad.
