A poet writes of dreams and pain...of love of life and death
Forgotten hearts and souls that search, Quixote and his quest
The finer lines that tether souls and keep them within reach
The hectic part that goes so fast and words that cry and teach
That life is given equal chance to those who beat with grace
That hearts can meet their mate to dance when passion leaves it's trace
When love is called to come again and justify two hearts
Whose days had passed and gone away, forgotten with the thoughts
That once again love can call and win this war of souls
When future stock is called upon to take these two to hold
When love comes out from deep within the blindside of the heart
Takes hold of trembles, shivers, shakes and makes a brand new start
Then poets write of just these times when love is Camelot
When Lancelot and Gwynn are bound to warm and fuzzy spots
When Hepburn and her Tracey are the ones that make the moves
Then Rhett and Scarlette bound the stairs to upper, warmer rooms
When fair haired teens are Romeos and Cinderella schemes
When poets write the words we all wish for in our dreams
Writers give us hope and pain, then identify the muse
We read and fit ourselves to words, character and truths
It gives us faith in future form , it gives us all a love
It gives us change, it gives us worth, it fly's, pulls and shoves
These two so sure, so pure and winged with life upon a whim
Hearts that soar above our world, embraces love within
The poets of the earth are here to give us all a chance
To kiss the kiss of perfectness, and 'Valentine Romance'.
A wonderful revival of the love game, and a bit of perfection.
This one reads aloud very well. I might commit it to memory.
It is an encompassing span of why, and the reasons, we love. - Bill
The first word in romantic poetic thoughts must begin with your breathe, this is a gorgeous write that pulls and tugs at the heart and brings out love that is buried deep. Well done dear Valentine.
hugs and kisses
Fee
When Hepburn and her Tracey are the ones that make the moves
Was real hard for Tracy in this relationship - his belief in the sanctity of marriage prevented him from divorcing his wife - alien principle in today's bed hopping Holywood.
Forgotten hearts and souls that search, Quixote and his quest
Hmm, intriguing line. Can the quest for love be akin to charging at windmills? I suppose if the object of our love was unattainable, I guess so - but then the object would have to be defined as a windmill in the first place. Enlighten me, Susan! Be the Sancho Pansa in this instance and come to my curiosity's rescue!!
A wonderful tribute to poets and poetry, not to mention love, Susan. I really enjoyed this -- it's perfect for Valentine's Day.
Very well done!
Love,
CJ
In the predawn hours during a solitary ride on her ranch, Montana Freeborn collides with Seth Phoenix, centaur-turned-man and the embodiment of her psychic visions.
Love is universal and not limited to the most perfect among us. In this collection of romantic short stories and poetry, love comes to those who are decidedly imperfect, who possess very real human flaws, scars, and challenges. Awaiting us as we are.
I loved him. At age twelve he touched my heart with his music. At age twenty he captured my heart when our eyes met as he sat on a stage and sang Four months later, he fractured my heart with his refusal to allow us to stay together. At age seventy
Love and Romance at it's finest!
Warmly, WArrior Sheeeooxx
P.s. Oh, Sue- That great Pisces poem, Paul's ( from my messg. I forgot to share it) Birthday is Feb. 24th 1965~
Mine is in April~
This one reads aloud very well. I might commit it to memory.
It is an encompassing span of why, and the reasons, we love. - Bill
hugs and kisses
Fee
Kisses, sweet hearts, and roses, my dear!
Ron
Was real hard for Tracy in this relationship - his belief in the sanctity of marriage prevented him from divorcing his wife - alien principle in today's bed hopping Holywood.
Forgotten hearts and souls that search, Quixote and his quest
Hmm, intriguing line. Can the quest for love be akin to charging at windmills? I suppose if the object of our love was unattainable, I guess so - but then the object would have to be defined as a windmill in the first place. Enlighten me, Susan! Be the Sancho Pansa in this instance and come to my curiosity's rescue!!
Regards
Dai
Love Tinka
God Bless,
Michael
Very well done!
Love,
CJ
You rule Susan!;-)
Love,
Eileen