It opens your mind,
And in your heart can beam,
A shining light,
A lesson learned,
A beauty seen,
To be and not to seem,
Even today, great Poetry is,
The right of words to dream.
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If I had a magic button,
And substitute instead,A Red Rose with a dew-drop tear.
It’s so unfair, isn’t it?
So many times are put aside,Not understood, told to beware,And said to be unfit,To guide, to give, to shareWhile demons in waitingWith forked tongue,Are allowed to skin us, bare.
Illusions,
That may haunt a life,Forever and a day,Dreams that follow,And never go away,Praying to become Alive,Maybe, Someday.
Not all poems are created equal
Two brooks, next to each otherWill meander in different sense.No love is like any other,Be it bland or intense,But in this world,So full of horrorLove seems to beThe only thingThat makes any sense.
Is Poetry
Some might say‘Yes’, not worth a dimeBut breathing, thinking’Loving too,May not produce,Great wealth for youYet necessary are,And so is PoetryFor those who dreamAnd live,Reaching, for the Stars.
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.