Grips me
And owns me!
Strange,
When I read it,
It flows thru my heart,
Lighting a fire,
That’s filled with desire
Of Never being
Too far apart.
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Love is made of flowers,
But sometimes gardens out of reach,Will make us slowly die.
The strange land of Poetry,
His land should be sincerityAnd Love, true camaraderie,No lies no falsehoods ever,Makes all lives beautifully better.
When with you,
GlowingAll over, the placeThis LoveHas no face,Just Grace,Its calledPoetry.
I miss you,
Like Romanticism misses pain,I miss you,As I softly cry in vain,For I know I have lost you,Forever!And even though, I miss you,More than Ever,I know we will never again,Be together…
No matter,
Or turn itPolitical butter,Won’t, earn it.False and rancidAll the same,Political corruptionIs their gainAnd our pain,OverpricedIntolerable device,This political curse,Corruption!
Tis better to have
Than Never to have loved at all,For without love, life nothing givesAnd all is dim and sad and small.