Each Coin Has But Two Faces

Each coin has but two faces
So do we have in human beings?
Times changes scores off
Many a human beings
Look into their eyes
And
Find desire of being wanted
And loved,
Some love your hands
To palm their cheek,
Only if by accident it may be,
Yet some say look
What you have lost
Then push you
To them get lost,
Beware the world is changing,
Population of 7 billions
No one can trust
Can ye?

Undoubtedly I Do

You give me the incentive to create,
So why shouldn't state
Once in a while we all procreate,
But never do it in haste
Tis left for one to be chaste
And
When you do decide to create,
Do so but never hesitate
For once in a life time
Women a miracle demonstrate
In their first mate
A creature called the child,
A father of man

It Is My Privilege

It is my privilege
To be a friend
Of such privileged folks like you,
Well wishers of the kind I have
Are so minuscule few.
The world would have been
A far better place
Hope all this knew
When we have
Lovely poets like you.
The world however remains
In the forests of madness
Where can we find
Even such acquaintances
Such who can love
Till eternity’s far end,
If eternity does ever
Anywhere really has an end.

Mistake me not
For I am a shaking-speare
And
Can spear more vigorously
Than ever Shakespeare
Could have dared to be
But then he was Shakespeare
And me is me,
A simple Shaking- speare as know thee,
For what I shake you can't imagine
I shake the love so worldly
And
That’s why I call myself Loved, Loverme and Lovely honey,
Coz,
I smack for the love of all so many
That’s why I’ve become
A poet for those
Who haven't
Yet loved any

Of Happiness

It takes a life time to know
And
Learn all about happiness
Also
How to remain so
Most of us run
From pillar to post,
To find out what happiness means,
No one searches one’s inners
To realise that’s where happiness lies,
In between mind and me
My desires and wants
My lust and sex...
All we need to do
Is just to be happy
That’s what I mean to be,
Do you really know?
What happiness means to me?

One day in the last couple of weeks I came upon a random comment from a fellow web poet that relayed his desire to one day be 'published' which after reading on he meant in a traditional book form, printed pages bound and sold in bookstores and shelved in libraries. I responded back that legally, posting your work on the www is considered by most countries as being 'published' as if you were going the traditional route.

Am I Fading Away

Time is always speeding,
It does twist and twirl
Almost every
Single moment

I came here to play,
Not my time to while away
I had to so as to avoid
From going astray

But in the bargain
I’ve learned many a lesson
Not to become
An emotional prey
For those who dare,
Do say
Leave a word of praise.

Time has thickened my skin
I don’t really always want to win
Who reads me or not,
Doesn’t now my stomach knot

The Burning Flame

You keep kindling the fire,

Lest it blow out,

You keep in check no doubt.

The flame also burns,

Within all teens,

I was once a flame,

But still in life

To remain aflame

Keep kindling

Thy lower flame

Again and again

And

As often as you can,

Come over to play

The same game,

Man and woman

Have played

Since aeons passed

And

Shall for eternity hence,

Love thyself as you alone

Can keep alive,

What in love

Jayne wishes to inform you all that she is indisposed this week, mostly and probably will not be able to help poets that she has promised to help, this she apologises for, but will address them as soon as she comes back. She sends her love to you all, Ann.

There is no need to criticise a thing because of it being personal, who says we shouldn't write things personal? Isn't it a free world, perhaps if one is tied hand and foot to the protocol of poetry as stipulated by the...by whom I do not know.

"Poets are soldiers that liberate words from the steadfast possession of definition.  ~Eli Khamarov, The Shadow Zone"