Into,
The most secret fibers
Of the human soul,
Poetry finds its
Finest hour,
And like love
Can rescue,
Benefiting us all.
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I have no age,
And to none,‘Who are you,That you are forever, young? ‘‘I am Love,And have been aroundSince the world begun’
How often,
Do we think, ‘things will change’,That some how, Hope can be arranged,And then something happens,Not for the better,Just an eye-opener,That makes you realize,That Change is just a word,That has to do with the weather,Not with human exchange,Something, that no matter,How hard we try,Simply cannot be arranged.
I feel today, lonely and forgotten,
So what does it matter if I’m alone?So is a stone, so is a stone.
Poetry is like a prayer,
It can be a guiding light,In the darkness of your night.Poetry is like a Rose,Open petals do compose,Musical, poetic thought,New Worlds, creativity,All the secrets of the Sea.Poetry is at its best,When Love makes a loving nest,To respect all living things,And embrace the joy Love brings.
Feeling alone,
It does something,To the soul,A shrinking feeling,A chocking feeling,A trembling faun,A still night,Without a dawn,A lonely feeling,Like I’ve never known,An emptiness,A sad duress,Hopelessness,With no healing,And no home.
We live happily in the world of rhymes,
Thinking that out words can make a difference,Dress the undressed minds,With sentiments and poetic flurries,Images that in time,Will make life more livable,Us, less worried,What fools we really are!The bloody scurried crimes,That haunt our past and present,Are still carried out with violent fury,‘Man’s inhumanity to man’,Our poems cannot bury.