Who can predict
The sharpness of life’s knife?
At times so sad and quick.
So profit of good times
Yes, those tender,
Happy moments
When all is well
And love does spell,
Its lovely song in rhymes.
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You are what you feel,
There’s no escape,Lies don’t go far.
Relationships,
Those are the rare ones,Very few regrets.We communicate thru language,But there’s so much more than that,There is all the human baggage,We all have under our hat.
This week,
With Rachmaninoff,I have his piano concertos,Playing in my head,They push me forward,Help me get ahead,Help me stay alive,In an ugly world,Of Love, deprived,I go around humming,The great melodies,All those that are near,Think I have lost my mindAnd therefore they fear,My ‘contagious desease’:To Love Music, ArtAnd Live as I please.
Secret Loves,
In pain,The hidden fear,That does appear,Each time they cross,Each time They’re near,Lover’s forbidden lane.Forbidden Loves,So far and yet so near,So painfully discreet,Only their souls can ever meet,Together they will never be,Their loves,Like in a fantasy,Demanding to be free,Will live,But in their lonely minds,Forever, tragically!
Today,
I have deeply looked,Into the face,Of my inner liberty,And found tranquility.The World may crash,Indeed it will,Nothing for me to do,For I’ll be happy,Even then,As long as I have you.
I always wanted to have Wings!
But to be moved or inspired enough,To be uplifted from Earth’s tired stuff,Today I found My Wings,Delirium and all those things,My Wings were born from your Poetry,Oh how, oh how, It speaks to me! ! !