Since Robert M.Smith
Has gone.
Poem Hunter
Not the same!
Its luster and shine
Poetic grace,
Gone!
Feel sort of
Out of sorts
And sort of numb.
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I can’t forget you,
I try.I will never be preparedFor that final,Goodbye.Love is a specialTyrant,And I can’t evenExplain, Why.
To love is to be,
Fulfillment, the shore,Where Love’s sea,Gives you more,Of Immensity.
Whoever thought of putting,
What a splendid idea,Must be nice to be that olive,Bringing drinkers all that cheer,Never loneliness to fear.
On Valentine’s Day,
Ever to be written,Edgar Allan Poe’s ‘Anabelle Lee’Love, as only love,Should be,For they ‘Loved with a loveThat was more than love, ‘He and his Anabelle Lee,The fusion, of souls,The ultimate goalCaptivating allThat life should be,Irreplaceable Ecstasy.
Hickory, Dickory, Crack!
They lie like LoonsOn lunatic Moons.And we have to payThem for THAT? ?
Words that thrill,
Leaving behind,The not so kind,Treacherous Nature,Of the Human Mind!