If this prison of a heart could ever be unlocked she would be the key.
She's purest of joy I've ever known, 
The goddess of love.
cupids dance at the edges of her heart, allergic to lies honesty is her pride.
Suffocated by ropes of sorrows, she untied them and climb to lands of joy.
Her smile awakens the smell of roses, an inspiration for poets to compose with sincerity.
She's clearity in fogs of uncertainty.
If I am to be a pirate then She's the only treasure I'd ever need.
Enticing,alluring, comely, angelic serein and mesmeric lady

She's a lover, the light in the dark, a kind gentle heart I cannot touch.
urges surging feelings emerging,
I am conflicted I know not of love while she is core of it.
I see her everywhere but nowhere so
I search.. I long.. and I yearn..
for her but she is far from my reach I can only hope that our hearts are in synch.

Some are bathing in money
Some can't bathe at all.
Some are given a head start
Some are forced to crawl.

Some have their own maids
Some live on the street.
Some have personal chefs
and some can't eat.

Some sleep in their beds
Some sleep in the snow.
Some are rising to the top
Some are stuck below.

Some work hard and make millions
Some work hard and make none.
Some have so many options
and some wish for just one.

Divide and conquer?
No, divide and fall.
Try giving, not taking
There's enough for us all.

156

You love me—you are sure—
I shall not fear mistake—
I shall not cheated wake—
Some grinning morn—
To find the Sunrise left—
And Orchards—unbereft—
And Dollie—gone!

I need not start—you’re sure—
That night will never be—
When frightened—home to Thee I run—
To find the windows dark—
And no more Dollie—mark—
Quite none?

Be sure you’re sure—you know—
I’ll bear it better now—
If you’ll just tell me so—
Than when—a little dull Balm grown—
Over this pain of mine—
You sting—again!

I thought that I found it.
The beauty I was searching for.
I thought that I found it.
The freedom I was fighting for.
I thought that I found it
The happyness I could only write about
I thought that I found it
And that it would stay forever without a doubt
I thought that I found it
But the truth wasn't even a little close
I thought that I found it
But it just happened to be a black rose

I saw the old man circling the tree trunk
Weather beaten skin, bent gnarled hands
and piercing blue eyes

He seemed to study every knot and crack
in that ancient timber

Then without a word turned and picked up hammer and chisel

The wood chips then began to fly and like confetti on the ground lie soon in heaps some ankle high

Occasionally he would stand back and look but never once a rest he took

Mallet strokes both hard and soft some from under some aloft fell there with unerring skill always busy never still

Long into the night he worked now by the light of an oil lamp and so the tree stump 'neath his hand then became a work of art

At long last he stood and turned to me and said three words " that'll do lad"

I approached to see just what he'd done and there I saw the perfect rose every petal and leaf in place the slender stems in the breeze did sway

With no plan or picture he had made the start
And created the perfect work of art.


So what is creativity? Well that's your next challenge.

No love poems because they've been done a million times. This time something unique

They ask me why I spend most of my time sleeping,
it’s because it’s in my dreams where I get to see you,
it’s the only place where you’re mine and I’m yours
and nothing else seems to matter.
It’s the closest thing we have to forever.