Say they’re frail,
That their tears are,
To no avail.
Poets are much stronger,
Than you think,
They have a special rendezvous,
With Destiny,
With Understanding,
A secret link.
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Born in the USA,
Public toilets are a problem,And we are considered racists,No matter what we do or say,Is that the American Way?Does politically correct mean,Playing the insane card?Accepting everything and anything,Going backwards instead of forward?Enough is Enough!Of false liberality,All dignity charred,Extinguishing, all individualityControl, absolute controlOf your lost soul.
The ups and downs,
Who can predictThe sharpness of life’s knife?At times so sad and quick.So profit of good timesYes, those tender,Happy momentsWhen all is wellAnd love does spell,Its lovely song in rhymes.
Written glory,
Poetry,Must speak to AllAnd hug us, tightly.
If we stop hating each other,
And make the World a better placeFor each and everyone,Giving, not taking,Is how Life is crowned and won.
Moods, dreams,
That’s what Poems reflect,Always different,Always Introspect.
My poetry is made of tears,
They accentuate my lonely fears,But calm, me when you are not near.My tears are mine and mine alone,They’re sadness that no one can own,They’re part of loving you so much,A Love that only tears can touche.