Why?
Did I not tell you
How much I loved you
That very night?
Instead I lost you,
And nothing after
Was Ever right!
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Poetry is all about feeling,
And Love is the deepest feeling,At which, Poetry can arrive.
I never did,
That deep fulfillment,That sometimes love can give,Making the Earth rounderAnd all around it live.I never had it, did I?The warmth within your hands,That thru touch would introduce me,To non-existing lands.I never even knew you,That you might understand,That my love for you,Was like the trickling,Of the hourglass’s, sand.And still I love you to this dayEven if…
Maybe, I write too much
Maybe,I waste my timeBut I don’t belittle,Or try to harmIn any way,With what I say,It’s just that PoetryIs my deep passion,In a very special say,I write to liveAnd I live to write,I suppose that LoveHas always been that way.
Beauty goes to Beauty,
Not all in Life is dutyHearts should often be,The better judge.
I saw you there,
I could love,No one else, but you,Your Soul appeared,In one big Smile,That sent me drifting,Down the Nile,Into a Sea of happiness,That only I could see and bless.All this was but a Fantasy,A dream of false Imagery,I know so well, you don’t love me,And yet as sad as this may be,I love you so, and always…
God, sometimes sends us Angels,
And open our minds,And subdue our wrath.In us is a promise of joy,A Light of Life,A tremendous strength,We must employ,For the Good and the good of All,Listen to Life’s promise,To it’s miraculous Call.
And then the layers start to peel,
And then some things just lose appeal,
And then you wonder, how to steal
Some kind of logic
From Life’s Wheel,
That turns and turns
In the same place,
As ruts run deep,
And out of grace.
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Beauty is precious and rare,
And spread her grace,In every place,For Beauty was made to share.
Most great works of Art,
Like giving birth,It’s Life they sustain.
Poetry is the banner,
Maybe the greatest discovery,Since man invented the wheel.
Loving,
And passion,A poet is no more,Than that.Each poet,Owns his fashionAnd reality,And really wantsNo moreThan that.Life could become so scary,If poet’s words, his passion goesFor Poetry is everything,A poet wants or even knows.
In the World of the Absurd,
Our political, anti-heroes,Ride the River Horse of Corruption,But Danger lurks Supreme,Red lights flashing,Lighting the infernal stream,Promising to destroy All and Everything!
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.