I didn't mean to fall in love
But I did
And you didn't mean to hurt me
But you did.

I remember this hill to well
Why are you leading me to it?
It was  wear my heart was once broken
Dark memories still lie there for a memorial.
The ghost of the dead love still hunts my heart.
There still remain charred pieces where the wood of love once burnt
I vowed never to pass by this path again.
Why are you leading me to it ?

Meet me.

Meet me where the sun rains
and the rain shines,
Meet me, where the summers are freezing
and winters are melting.

Meet me where the winds are still,
and rivers flow upwards,
Where puddles are deep,
And oceans are shallow.

Meet me where the seas are fresh
and the lakes are salty,
Where in cemetry there's party
and orchestra there's mourning.

Meet me where the moon is yellow,
And the sun is grey,
Where age is constant,
And kids don't age.

Meet me at the end of the world,
I'll be waiting,
In a green field,
On a white horse
And you shall know though nature changes
My love will be forever unchanged.

Love is a beautiful seed
growing in a field of weeds
Love is a rose in a garden of thorns
Its pickers  endure ****** and scorns
Love blossoms hope in all seasons
Though sometimes fear  give reasons
Love is a plant that forever grows
Even in pitch darkness it glows
A rose crushed produces a sweet balm
Love tested is like a well written psalm
A plant  flourishes  in a fertile farm
Our hearts is the soil where love work its charm
poetry is far more beautiful than prose
So let's our love endure forever unlike a rose

We lit a flame in an opaque  world
Not from wood but from a  candle
For woods sparkles bright
But produce ashes that cause blight
But candles melts to produces a stronger wax
Such is our flame burning to only reproduce a greater love
We lit a flame that first set our hearts on fire
And the fire spreads and then put our whole soul a blaze
Our flame is not shaken by violent winds
But it sways side by side dancing even to its violent  rhythms
Hand in hand ,heart in heart we lit a flame
A flame that does not burn down but builds up
A flame that that light our own souls and other souls too
For such is a candle it burns not for its own sake

mediocre and
faded
the average poem
no longer strikes chords
in the heart's harp
use extravagant vocabulary
weave your words tight
until they seem uncomfortable
the original meaning lost
between the claustrophobic corners
covered in lace and pretentious boasting
try but don't try so hard
that no one but the classic readers
would be able to understand
the words you've worked so hard to convey
do not force a poem out
or it will stick your fingers and
it will create a mess
similar to a teenage boy
it will be long and uncomfortable with itself
unknowing of how to adjust
into this thing that is supposed to be
mature now despite wanting to be simple
do not rush poetry
find quiet inspiration
in silent observations
of yourself, of nature
rushing poetry makes it fast
too many unfilled thoughts
racing around in one space
not meeting each other
despite being so close together
tell a story with imagery
with delicate words of morality
tell a story with flashbacks
with soft lips and with stained shirts
tell a story with love
make your poems with care