That consoles the broken heart,
That’s so human as an Art.
If you know please answer me,
For as much as I have tried,
Don’t exactly know, just why,
She is Beauty’s ever pride.
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Curious
Come fromAncient LandsCan express,What nothingElse can,From the innerSpirit,To the deepestSecrets,Buried way belowIn memory’sSands.
I miss the very sound of Love,
The looks of love, those never said,As emptiness took place instead,The pain and suffering linger on,As silence wins and dreams are gone.as
Humans as such
You might assume,That they always need a crutch,Cannot be trusted very much,Need to carefully guard their lunch,Always ready, to kangaroo punchAnd have sawdust,Instead of a brain.
Roses,
Trying to cope with being alone,Roses, as you sway,In the dying light of day,Memory winds play,A saddened song.Remembering,Past images, display,Moments, times foregone,Then, without request,Time stops or rests,And Life loses,What is its best:‘A tender smile,A pressing hand,The Look of LoveA passion grand.’You close your eyesYour heart just cries.It’s hard to breath,The wind is cold,Pain does not…
Limitless feelings,
Deep, living feelingsThat cannot but bless.Love is Poetry,In each life caressedDeeply, incessantly,Reaching life’s crest.You can’t help your feelingsAnd you can’t fade them out,The flame is ever living,It’s what love and poetry,Have always been about.
Thinking and feeling is dangerous,
Being ‘blank’ is more advantageous,And sometimes, your greatest wealth.