And out of solitude and fright
A poem may be born
With love in sight,
It’s like giving birth
Alone
One, cold and lonely
Night,
To the child in you,
That never was able
To take flight
But in a desperate poem,
Found its true Life.
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Love and politics,
And yet, both are disturbing,And can produce a fall,But Love usually is sincere,While politics is Not,Love sometimes is a rose,While politics and politicians,Are just plain Rot.
Sometimes,
They abandon us for othersFidelities, hardly, knownBut it doesn’t matterI’m accustomed to being,Alone.
In the Mad-Poetic world,
Was a Poet never heard,For it never was his hour.He had gone and warned the World,Of impending, danger, power,But the people kept on dancing,Just like fools, around his tower.Poets, Idealists and Lovers,This old World has never changed,Poets, stay in Ivory TowerAnd pretend you are deranged.
A Poet can see,
Love all that,That cannot be,And still be part of Mystery.
In the loveless, lonely night,
I love you.Even though you’ve gone away,And my life’s a broken Play,I still love you.As the sea gull loves the Sea,And the mountain air is free,As the morning loves the Rose,Petals soft as softness goes,As all life loves Harmony,As strong as True Love can be,I love you.AlwaysIn my desperate loneliness,In my hidden fantasy,In what’s beautiful…
Pushed by the Winds of Inspiration,
A poet strives for perfection,Trying to artistically unfold.