(2014)
#BlessingsSoul #Garden #Sun
A poem is something We truly believe in. It may be... A struggle for the mind For the heart a comfort
The poet’s voice echoes Plenty of voices Living in different times Resonating in lines Flowing under life stories
It’s embedded in a smile Truly spontaneous, heartfelt At every little while. It’s vivid in a warm hand—holding Always present over longing
That voice’s come pretty clear Like reaching every point near Encircling us sweetly In comfort, silently. It’s sent flashes of light
Found across a beautiful seashore Brought by waves of scientific lo… It spreads its shine wonderfully In angles of light and glee. Its shape wasn’t crafted round
You’re a firm Tree, and we love T… We’ll keep gazing you with glee. Solemnly standing Your branches are green no more Your whisper in the breeze
From green to yellow Singing tunes so mellow They’re falling down the ground Spreading music around. They’ve relished the Summer days
The day had been so cloudy The sky painted grey News media had broadcast: “The Phenomenal Woman” Had passed away.
Dwelling in the realms of verse Protected by God’s Mercy Love speaks in a way diverse. It pays homage to courage, Inner strength, soul pilgrimage!
'Twas the start of their day’s wor… A fresh encounter with dreams Nurtured by their teachers’ care Beyond parents’ love, more than fa… “Please, show me your nice drawing…
Stemming from an impulse Or a great wish maybe Now the poet sees himself Crowned his art and knowledge Around a distant ocean.
For a while she paused Out of awe, her eyes closed Journeying across miles Cherishing lovely smiles. Her mind lingered on...
It all comes from the heart And the enlightening of the mind Composing lines of art Under mysteries of the kind... It may be a relief from grief
One feels one dies... before dying One undergoes pain in this living One feels the dream fades away Yet one believes in a unique Ener… That proves one isn’t astray.
At dawn, when we suddenly awake, We feel the innocence of Blake. As the day unfolds, on struggling… There comes reflection, like roads… Upon reading stories of woe