Most of it tries
To light better feelings,
And spiritual unity, knit.
Feelings flounder, reel, suggest
But in the end,
Love and unity,
Poetry Blends,
Our hearts feel better
As Poetry crosses
Time’s ephemeral, trends.
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Once asked,
My answer was,I believe inBeauty, Art and Love,Of which there never,Is enough.
Poetry,
You feel, you write it,All, no partsNothing ever stays inside,A poem is a one way ride,With truth and beauty,At its side.
After all these years,
In search of answers,I return with empty hands,And an even heavier heart.The meaning of Life escapes me,So much fight, so much pain,For Nothing!Lucky are they who,Have some happy moments to remember,Who think All is not in vain,Who in Life’s goings and comings,Still manage to stay sane.
The essence of language is Poetry,
Makes not out of words a mere mockery,Opens Worlds that are heard in sonority.
The joy that writing brings
That can compare,Nor that we best can share.Writing is an ArtOf inner soul and flight,Of unimaginable mightOf feelings that have wings,Of inner songs that singOf new dawns that arrive,Of human tendernessWhere words can sweetly nestAnd all great Love you’ll findIn Wisdom’s deep caress,Imagination’s sight,Its Wings forever bright.
Searching for answers,
In one infinite Ocean rhyme,Called Poetry.Finding only,Empty shells,By the SeaNothing gained,Nada,After so many years,I can’t even cry,My questionable, tears.