Wednesday, February 27, 2013
What is love, but an emotion,
So strong and so pure,
That nurtured and shared with another
All tests it will endure?
What is love, but a force
To bring the mighty low,
With the strength to shame the mountains
And halt time’s ceaseless flow?
What is love, but a triumph,
A glorious goal attained,
The union of two souls, two hearts
A bond the angels have ordained?
What is love, but a champion,
To cast the tyrant from his throne,
And raise the flag of truth and peace,
And fear of death o’erthrow?
What is love, but a beacon,
To guide the wayward heart,
A blazing light upon the shoals
That dash cherished dreams apart?
And what is love, but forever,
Eternal and sincere,
A flame that through wax and wane
Will outlive life’s brief years?
So tell it on the mountaintops,
In all places high and low,
That love' is the reason to be,
And will never break or bow.
Slim regrets and
Fatal forget-me-nots
I like to write what
Sounds thought provoking
However, much like
the wizard of Oz,
My secret is my lack of power
Behind the veil you find
A man
No different from any other
In fact, my life is no tragedy:
I still have a father and mother.
So what am I, really?
A sham, a fake, a crock?
Fact is I am a man
Who can find a word
That rhymes with sock.
Morning
My bed is like a sailing ship-
when I'm tucked in, I take a trip.
I leave behind my busy day
and sail to places far away.
I sail past beaches, gleaming white,
with palm trees swaying in the night.
I watch the waves break on the shore,
and then I see my bedroom floor!
I blink my eyes, I scratch my head-
my ship is home, I'm back in bed.
My ships goes sailing every night
and sails home in the morning
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