Life causes so many problems
That ruin and upset my day,
So I try  to escape through poetry --
Just hit the road and get away!
But it seems every street I travel
Only leads to 502 BAD GATEWAY

I've grown so tired and weary
Of the same old message each day,
I can't reach my friends, the road is cut off
By barricades blocking the way;
Other streets bring me back where I started . . . .
That **** 502 BAD GATEWAY

So please HP, fix this problem,
Don't let my poetry go astray;
Without my dear friends what would I do?
Please reunite us without delay . . . . .
And permanently close that wretched street
Named 502 BAD GATEWAY

There's so little that I ask from Life --
I seek neither wealth nor fame;
But if Love were offered in their stead,
Gladly my heart would lay claim!

I want to be queen of some man's heart,
Enthroned on Love's high altar,
Knowing, despite Life's uncertainty,
His Love would never falter

I want to be needed by someone --
Not for trivial charity ---
But like a flower's nectar is needed
By the famished honey bee

I want him to shower me with gifts --
Tangible things, though unseen:
Tenderness, devotion and fealty. . .
. . . . . a crown of Love for his queen

I want to share this abundant Love
Sitting idle in my heart ---
Love is the main actor on Life's Stage,
And so it must play its part  

Love, sweet Love, is really all I want --
All other needs I'd deny;
Just to be loved, worshiped and adored . . . . .
O well, I can dream, can't I?

How pleasant the woodland's sweet echoes
When two birds sing in harmony;
So my heart shall find its contentment
When Love sings a duet with me

Just look at those wildflowers swaying
To the wind's silent rhapsody;
I, too, shall dance with wild abandon
When Love whispers its symphony

‎I'll not dread the ominous storm clouds
That Life sends my way ceaselessly;
I'll always find light in their lining
When Love braves the tempests with me

Each evening I hold the moon hostage,
Relating tales of fantasy;  
But O, the stories yet to be told
When Love writes the dialogue with me

Then my heart will reveal Love's dictums
Through verses of sweet poesy;
And I (and the moon) will be thankful
When Love guides its footsteps to me!

Was his love just a dream,
Did it ever belong to me?
Or was it a breeze whispering to the trees,
Those words spoken so tenderly?

Dreams can distort the facts
And make common things seem divine . . . .
Was my heart afire with burning desire
In a realm of my own design?

Yet, I still taste his kiss,
And feel his hands stroking my face;
But loving him so, I don't want to know
If this is love Time will erase

Was his love just a dream?
Time's reply was harsh and unkind;
Joy and bliss have flown,  I still walk alone . . .
He only lived in this fool's mind!

If he were a bird, I would let him perch  
On my shoulder, right next to my ear;      
His downy feathers would caress my face,
And his songs only I would hear

If he were a frog, I would hold him close --
And shelter him in my pocket;
Or, wrapped in ribbons,  he might feel at ease
Worn near my heart, like a locket

If he were a bee buzzing 'round my head,
I'd let him make a nest in my hair;
And in evening's hush he'd rest on my lips  
And leave honey-filled kisses there

In a jovial way,  I'm saying Love is blind
To the diversities dealt by Fate;
Our mortal frames are inconsequential ---
True love recognizes its mate

Another day has folded its wings
Yielding graciously to the night;
And somewhere out there Love is hiding,
While lost hearts seek their guiding light

I've seen dark nights when clouds drape the moon
And celestial orbs dim their light,
And yet there's no darkness that equals
The void when Love's hidden from sight

Love enjoys playing this merciless game,
(Of course, I can only surmise)
But Love remains mute when I beckon,
And deaf to my heart's wistful cries

Ah, but with what mastery it moves,
Taunting hearts, leading them astray;
Much like that vile serpent of Eden,
Love teases, then slithers away

Defeated we confront the folly
Of our efforts as day unwinds;
Sadly, Love's pranks can prove fatal for
The heart that seeks, but never finds

Love is an alluring game of chance
That hides behind its dubious schemes;
As for the lovelorn, we must seek our bliss
In the secret confines of our dreams

Love has flown, and I'm left to ponder
The dark facets of Life's mysteries,
While a tangled web of emotions
Keeps me tethered to Love's memories

I'm grateful for solitude's shelter,
Amidst crowds I hold my head low ---
I keep my heart's anguish well-guarded
From  prying eyes. They've no need to know.

And for sudden cloudbursts I'm grateful,
My tears are concealed by the rain;
I can bravely hold my head up high
Without fear of revealing my pain

I'm grateful for hours that pass quickly,
They say Time heals a broken heart;
Yet with each dawn Time breaks its promise . . . .
. . . . . the healing has yet to start

I'm grateful when sleep numbs my senses ---
For a while my mind is at ease;
O Time, I need your healing essence . . . .
My heart is sick with memories!