We think so much,

The verses growIdeas appear,And feelings flowFrom secret sparksDeep in your heart,The poem startsTo take its shape,The poet knowsThere’s no escape,The birth is nearCan’t be refrained,Freeing the poem,The poem freeJust Joy remains.

Inspiration, a mysteryIt comes or it comes not.Like love,Is creativity,No formula for either one,You cannot force love’s secretNor love, just to be loved,Love, is its own deep secretEven Poetry,Cannot decipher, LoveOr why, we’re love dependentAnd need it to survive,To be much more than happyAnd really feel alive.

With a love ready to share,With all the loving care,That inspired all the poetry,Of every love affaire.I would have lovedTo have loved you,By just holding your hand,Or looking into your eyes,No words to understand.I would have lovedTo have loved you,From here to eternity,The problem always was,You never did love me.And yet, I still love you,As…

Hate is hate,Maybe not innate,But there’s much too much,Taught, taken advantage of,Love is love,In so many different waysLucky those,Whose lives it sways.

If you don’t want me, I won’t go,For loving you is all I know,I’ll stay around, just like a Tree,And shade my sadness, silently,You see what you have done to me,Now I’m your slave and you are free!

Love’s feelingThat absorbs you,That enfolds youIn a trance?You really can’t!The most you can doIs feel itAs emotion,That relentlessly,Enchants.

Sensations, desires,FeelingsThat don’t expire,Talented choirThat echoesIn the distance,Bringing us closerTo LoveAnd Life’s fire.

Of life, of pain, of love,Past and future,Is uniquely theirs,As if God had given,Certain chosen PoetsA sixth sense,To write, to love, to careFor others.

Maybe, , ,You won’t be comingAt all! ! !PainHurts the painOf my very lonelyFate,To have found youLost you,My destiny, stalledNot being toldThat you were,But an internet fold,Not real,A fabricated dreamWithout whichI am now,Nothing, at all!

In a spotCalled, ‘Primavera’Was the last Spring,Of our life, together.Life courts death,So unattended,And so cruelSpring’s rebirth,Not,Always intended,For us, human fools.Who don’t realizeThat our lives,Are fragile flowersMade of crystalThat can shatterAt any momentWithout notice,Without rule.

I am always amazedAnd deeply sincere,When reaching outThat I am able toCommunicate,And may have somethingMeaningful to say?For that,I am fulfilled,And eternally gratefulFor to live in doubtAnd not stand upFor truthAnd for what should be,Come what mayIs living,The Coward’s way!And I will always contestAbuse, the hypocritical veilThat others use,To impose and makeTheir power stay,And bleed the…

Fulfillment, the shore,Where Love’s sea,Gives you more,Of Immensity.