Mine is Poetry,
I find Her, rather nice
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Oh, the artist within,
Life without Art,Is like a kettle, with no spout,You’ve never been able,To fully feel it,Or pour it out.How lucky are those!Who are hit,By the creative dart,Life, heart and art!
We could have made
Being together,You’re open heartWith my, forever,You’re brilliant strains,That with love’s melodies,Ran thru my veins.We could have loved,Largely, foreverNo boredom setLove at its best,Two souls that touchCouldn’t be better.However,No one controlsAnother’s feelings,And broken heartsAre often known,For never healing.
Today I did not write,
Do I have a right to counsel?To teach, to try to reach,For the Light of the stars?To preach, love and understanding,Thru Peace, not Violence?I think I do,We must always be true,To our best convictions,The liberty of heart and mind,Should have no restrictions.When will Life earn,The respect it deserves?Will it be when no human creatures,Are left…
Life is not fair,
So much is Fraud,At all of us, hurled!
I sit in front
Of something,That is my lifeIn frightening whitenessI try to calculate the futureBut the past is all I seeAnd the wavy whiteness isLike an all invasive, SeaThat becomes oppressiveAnd terribly distastefulFrustrating allThat’s near to me.Time is no longer waiting,Now only darknessDo I see,Life’s a film in black and whiteDirected by circumstances,And Destiny,Never yours,Never really free.
The long silences of Love
To speak their feelingsOf love tender and so sweet,Eyes that speakTheir own incredible languageThat describes love at its peak.