Something someone’s heard
What is the meaning
Is it large or small
Or doesn’t anyone know
How to describe it at all
What is love
Is it a gentle kiss
A tender embrace
Or is it someone
You could never replace
What is love
(date written unknown)
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A breeze ruffles the water
that twinkle on their crestsfor seconds into the day long.Sitting in silence by the wateron a sunny afternoonwith no one else aroundfeeling at peace with the worldas the day stretches on.Feeling refreshed and relaxedwith no disturbance in sightyou gaze at nature in a different light.One of peace and harmonyfrom the small speck I am.12 September…
Sometimes we sit in a chair,
falls a vacant stare.Our mind searches our memories,and worlds within there.It searches the faces of old friends,who are no longer here,looking for happy times,we enjoyed long ago.Then for a brief few moments,the memories surfacefrom the back roads of our mind,and those happy times and old friendsare back with us once again.
No matter what image
Our being lies beneatha layer of sinew and bone.We are what we arefor what our soul might possess.We gather our bountyfrom another’s eyes that gazeon the fruits of our laboursand the barren baskets we filland the songs that we singof the joyous and sorrow.We are what we arefor all to commend or condemn.We walk tall…
Sometimes we give a measure of who we are
We give them friendship,our courage to carry onand our respect for who they are.We never ask for anything in return,we do it because that is who we are.We hold up no flags or bannersto announce our presencebecause that is who we are and always will be.19 January 2010
Yesterday I broke the chains
Severed the links that had threatenedto suffocate me from the pleasures I had.So closes the end of an erathat had eaten away part of meand would have left mean empty husk.I have wanted to do itfor a long, long time,but each time pleading voiceshad dragged me back.Now the end of an erahas left me free…
I know some of my poems can be a bit absurd.
he is a bit absurd too.Anyone who plays Cowboys and Indiansat the age of sixty somethinghas to be a bit of a fruit and nutter.However, saying all thatI really play Preachers and Indianswith a couple of sermonsthrown in for good measure.They gave me the tag of Dodgy Dave,the wife says it is because I dodge…
Is it mirth, or melancholy?
Joys above,
Are there many, or not any?
What is Love?
If you please,
A most sweet folly!
Full of mirth and melancholy:
Both of these!
In its sadness worth all gladness,
If you please!
Prithee where,
Goes Love a-hiding?
Is he long in his abiding
Anywhere?
Can you bind him when you find him;
Prithee, where?
With spring days
Love comes and dallies:
Upon the mountains, through the valleys
Lie Love’s ways.
Then he leaves you and deceives you
In spring days.
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Goddess the laughter-loving, Aphrodite, befriend!
Let me have peace of thee, truce of thee, golden one, send.Heart of my heart have I offered thee, pain of my pain,Yielding my life for the love of thee into thy chain;Lady and goddess be merciful, loose me again.All things I had that were fairest, my dearest and best,Fed the fierce flames on thine…
Why am I sorry, Chloe? Because the moon is far:
Because thy face is fair? And what if it had not been,The fairest face of all is the face I have not seen.Because the land is cold, and however I scheme and plot,I cannot find a ferry to the land where I am not.Because thy lips are red and thy breasts upbraid the snow?(There is…
If we must part,
Not heart on heart,Nor with the useless anguish of a kiss;But touch mine hand and say:‘Until to-morrow or some other day,If we must part’.Words are so weakWhen love hath been so strong;Let silence speak:‘Life is a little while, and love is long;A time to sow and reap,And after harvest a long time to sleep,But words…
I took her dainty eyes, as well
And so I made a Villanelle!I took her voice, a silver bell,As clear as song, as soft as prayer;I took her dainty eyes as well.It may be, said I, who can tell,These things shall be my less despair?And so I made a Villanelle!I took her whiteness virginalAnd from her cheek two roses rare:I took her…
I the deep violet air,
There is no sound heard,But afar, the rareTrilled voice of a bird.Is the wood’s dim heart,And the fragrant pine,Incense, and a shrineOf her coming. Apart,I wait for a sign.What the sudden hush said,She will hear, and forsake,Swift, for my sake,Her green, grassy bed:She will hear and awake!She will hearken and glide,From her place of deep…
Who is this mortal
To woo an immortal,Cold, cold the moon’s lightFor sleep at this portal,Bold lover of night.Fair is the mortalIn soft, silken white,Who seeks an immortal.Ah, lover of night,Be warned at the portal,And save thee in flight!
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Asked by sensitive
Hearts.
Love is,
That spell you fall under
Emotional thunder
That life giving wonder,
We can’t live without.
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Poetry and Art
No force on EarthCan kill the powerOf self-expression!Because,The creative mind,Is always Free,No one can controlIts Liberty,That’s our Victory!Over tyranny.
What do we love,
It’s not only their face,It’s not only their eyes,Above all it’s the Soul,That shines, identifies,And silently signifies,Love’s mysterious, flowing tide.
Poetry makes you Free,
No matter how much, Tyrants will cloud,Poetic words will still think out loud.
Thinking, thinking,
Living in a worldOf rhyme,Wondering, wondering,Mind that flows,Wish my worldWere just a rose,For as far as this World goes,More you know,Less answers, flow
The Evolution of Truth,
A painful cleansing,A thirst for purification,Edification,A person becoming a person,A Holy Journey towards Light!Illuminating Souls,That dancing with delight,At it’s Presence,Drink the sweet nectar,Of Peace within Peace.All becomes whole again,There is a rebirth,Of the Soul, Of the Flesh,A deliverance of the Mind,A Freedom never before felt,The ultimate liberation!The Truth,So difficult to Find,So difficult to Tell,As man’s…
When the Poet’s soul is moved,
It gushes forth,Obedient, to no rule,It’s some undefinedForce,That does it.Like the unravelingOf a golden spool,Could it be Love,That does it?
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Over and over again,
Undying till,
The last breath,
If ever you are,
So blessed,
That is what Love Is.
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Delving deep into the sense of being,
There, an open Sky lies, seeing,Much more than the flight,Of a single bird.
I can never write
It would be likeBetraying myselfAnd so very, veryUnreal.
Southern Fried Chicken
Is where, Franco-AmericanRelationships,Impeccably, combine!‘Bonne Appetite’ y’all.
What can be expressed
Goes far, far,BeyondAll imagery,Nothing can compareTo its fantastic flairAnd depth of feelingAs it surrounds,The human heartWith a kind ofSweet sincerityOnly found,In deepest Love!
We know so much,
The Tribal flux,Looks for no acquittal.Today we are no different,Than all the Others,The Country is living,Its saddest hours…