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Oh! dad anyones

you are
more than what you are
a star
born star
each one...

in poetry the poets
never or rarely give one
you all hearts have won
and
I still live in hope

someday some moody poet
shall come by my way,

to say
Loved

how come so long
barren you did stay

my inner feelings for your dad......

I know how one feels
when one loses...
I lost mine decades since…

Compositions

Who am I?
I’ve never really known
I find myself in those moments
That bring me to my essence
Melancholy and innocence
Dark and Light
One in the north, one in the south
Through the east and through the west
On the surface it’s so hard
I myself seems very far
I find myself in those I love
All of them different, but all of them me
So who could I be?
I am not you, I am not you
Composed of such variety
Who is this, my entity
Difficult to pinpoint one source
Who is this, something more?

Carefree

Experienced darkness

enveloping blackness

I'm a blank canvas

death would be bliss

Memories haunt

enemies flaunt

dreams taunt

life I no longer want

Lost in a maze

a disturbed gaze

happiness no trace

hell I can face

Be happy for me

I'll be finally free

hold me in your memory

imagine me carefree

If Life Were Only Poetry

Oh, if life were only poetry!
I would fill my love’s cup
With yonder bright stars.
And make of her life
More of heaven then earth.
I would take from her flowing lips
The sweet charms of nippy kisses.
I’d watch her eyes flicker as a busy bee
As she takes in the nectar of a garden rose.
Oh, if only I could fill her cup
With the passions from my heart.
To endlessly write of her loveliness;
Yet, dwell in ever word penned.
Oh, if life were only poetry!

poets strugglers

poets strugglers

you are more than what you are

a star
born star…

in poetry the other poets
never or rarely give one

you all hearts have won
and
I still live in hope

someday some moody one

shall come by my way,
to say hello poet !

how come so long
barren you did stay

my inner feelings
for your dad
I know how one feels
when one loses one ...

I lost mine decades since…

Enedentian Epic: Canto III

Before the world was given hue,
ere mountain rose or forest grew,
and young was river under sky;
before the frost capped mountains high,
when young was leaf and new was root 5
and youthful brooks run round the foot
of hilly country, wide and far,
and lightened by the roaming star;
when wind would whisper with a voice
and grasses in response rejoiced, 10
the maiden's song, creation's strain
still could be heard. A sweet refrain.
Creation's strain, the maiden's song

The Void...

The void was wider than first appeared
Bigger and deeper than he had feared
Emptiness there, was all he could see
Sick to his soul, spewing debris

Who would know, what was happening then?
It was something quite beyond my ken
If only I had known... if he had let me in
Then I might have saved him from his sin

He disappeared, then came back one day
Wanted to know, if he’d been away
I couldn’t tell him, ‘cause I didn’t know
He’s my brother, but I didn’t see him go

BEYOND THE MOUNTAINS: Portuguese/ English

Trás-Os-Montes

faz um milhão de anos
parece
que deixei os vales
altos
trás os montes
altos
acima do mar
onde a lua amarêla pålida
faixas de vermelho escuro
sangra noite
e a chuva entristece dia
Há lugares nêste mundo
onde vai a natureza
a chorar a sua tristeza
lugares que seguem
o coração
onde quer que vai

Antique Mustard

'Antique Mustard'
Is the colour of
bile
It's going to be
revived in
vapourous vintage
magazines of
style

I never liked it
only said it was
"Devine"
so you'd be
inclined
to behave like a
rampant dog

The pre-paint sex
was splashed
on our walls
mingled with the bile
secretion

It's a primative pleasure
to look at the walls
and secretly want to
smell
them

how happy can Loved be ?can you imagine

how happy can Loved be can you imagine
for siding me
the world of poets have taken my advice,
more compose freer verse
and avoid being routine-sh terse
many no longer adopt
ab ab ac ac
and what have you,
if Loved didn't exist
nor would have Shakespeare too

So be yourself and express
what you need to say
poetry is just an emotion
a flow of feelings
a desire only to ease tension
as more share with you gradually
so thank
Lovedly

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