How would we share, without each other?
Poets, Artists
Creators, Brothers.
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It’s a sad and unfair life
Those who deserve to be punishedSurvive,And those who have nothing done,The Innocent and dearly Beloved,Are so many times,So sadly and prematurely, gone
Bolts of Fire,
To no sireWill they render,One single ounceOf who they are!With honorAnd conviction,Their writings riseRespecting lifeBeing kind and wisePoetry and love,Their Spirits’ pride.
I know nothing,
Where you come fromWhere you have your home,An yet, I have learnedTo love you by your wordsBy the feelings shown,I keep you in my heartWhere this love was born,Said the strangerTo a poem,Written by author,Unknown.
Poetry!
ThoughtsFeelingsFrom the heart,BlazeLife!CreatedIn a sort of tranceWith no formula,To even give itA head start,A miracle,A mystery,In which the poetJust plays,Gratefully!His humble part.
In the Solitude of my gray loneliness,
In the veiled mist of the phantom pond,I miss you,Nothing is clear any more,A thick cold trembling fog,Has settled in my heart,Nothing moves,As I continue to miss you.A black dense sense of nothingness,Takes hold of my existence,An ill omen for tomorrow.But tomorrow will never come,You have taken my life and my light,And I so desperately,…
When you’re in love,
But when unloved,You just wither away,Night never becoming day.