He was the world's greatest poet
He wrote his words not in ink but blood ,not on paper but onto the heart
He was a true poet,the greatest

He wrote rhymes so lovely onto my heart
Lines that were so beautiful,so deep he engraved onto the centre of my life
That which beats to keep me going

I loved him
His name was a sweet melody
Rhyme & rhythm....all of it
His touch..his touch was like a beautiful piece
So fulfilling, so full of emotions & meaning
He was the world's greatest

So great,he was so great
He wrote onto my heart...wrote to hard...I fell too hard
Even the greatest poet hit a block
He wrote no more...inspiration lost
He left..left me with a heart full of his work
A heart in which he had engraved so many promises

He promised forever but left before tomorrow set in
Still he was the world's greatest poet
Because--Poets use their work to express emotions in a moment.. When the moment passes...its now a piece with memory
I was in a moment.. A piece..and now a memory to him
Yet he lives still for me in the present as the world's greatest poet

Dear Emma Watson -
Shall we make love
The object of
Our spiritual quest
Together?

Surely an altogether
Better option
Than pairing you off
In a commentary box
With one John Motson
Discussing twenty two
Pairs of socks
Chasing a piece of leather?

If spiritual questing
Is not for you
I will make do
With tightly tied pairs of shoes
Existential emus,
Sylvia Plath and Ted Hughes.

Whilst hoping you find
Your Sherlock Holmes,
Miss Watson
I will content myself with
Cataloguing my collection of
Black and white combs.

I also have plots on
Which I need to work -

Wednesday Addams's love of
Moon dried tomatoes

Or Erica Roe
Somewhere in Portugal
Growing sweet potatoes
For sale.

Don't let anyone tell you
There ain't no perks
To being an Omega Male.