Life is so short,
Happiness scant,
Always looking beyond the Stars,
Things are too close or maybe too far,
Like unstable mercury,
You cannot catch,
Love lingers on,
Of life the sole match,
You’ve got to win it,
And then, you’ll know then,
That Love makes Life,
Start over again.
Of dreams once dreamt to no avail,Of Loves that were appealing.Poems are made of inner veils,That cannot hide deep feelings,They synthesize, all that is wise,Console us, help heart’s healing.
A Ship without a Captain?Squashed against a Monorail?A Country,Sad, Irresponsible and Frail?No, this cannot be,The 21st Century,America.
The poet are blessedBy their art,In a world of confusionAnd interests that groanAnd tear you apart,Not knowing whereTo turn,Consolation and peaceHave to comeFrom within,As we learn how to swimIn the muddy waters ofPerfidy, duplicityAnd sin,Where life searchesIts tragic endingAnd honesty,Cannot win!
Poetry’s worth it,Life, not so much.
You would think it was made,Of love, pity and lace.
It is the finestAnd the deepest felt,It makes us survive adversityAnd come together in life’s quest,Love makes our hearts flowerWith goodness, tenderness,It is the blessing of every hourAnd in all of us,The poem, we love best.
