Not paved by human hands,
But by Hearts,
That feel for other Hearts,
Compassion.
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Lightly clad
Life, just passes by,If there is noneTo love,For whom to sigh,You don’t much careThe reason, Why?
One life, one dream, one love
How lucky can you beTo strive, to haveThe best arrive,The opportunity,How grateful should we be!
Poor poets,
Looking for answers,And finding none,A poet’s workIs never done.
True and natural
Nature be,Her songs so free,Songs of Seven Seas,The Oceans vast,I love so muchThe blue intense,Of skies I touch,When Nature sings,It’s much more than we,In all its, Incredible,Creativity.
A Poet can see,
Love all that,That cannot be,And still be part of Mystery.
Where do our verses come from?
From our deepest within,From love and not sinFrom compassion for all,As good feelings, they win.To create, to write,Whatever art you may practice,Feeling is key,No feeling, no art work,That can communicate,The artist’s sincerity.