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  Feb 2022 Samtoy
Flower Scent
The Poet is the language,the mystery of Monalisa's smile,

the brush of Caravaggio and the finest painting of Vangogh.

The Poet is the sonnet of Mozart anf the symphony of Bach,

a tragedy of Shakespeare and the saddest verse of Pablo Neruda.

The Poet is the blue Danube in waltz and the Swan Lake in Ballet.

The Poet is the renaissance of passion and the remnant of life,

the dilemma of morality,the shadow of deed,and the ombra of sin.

The Poet is the fantasy of each Sunrise and the illusion of every Sunset,

the wave in tide of wishes,carried in a bottle to  dune drunk shore.

The Poet is the believer, dream lover in a hot passionate crazy affair,

the magician who creates fables and fairytales from a deadly reality.

The Poet is the worker who works and works to survive,to cope in this

demanding,sophisticated,stigmatic  concrete hypocratic world.

The Poet is the thief of time,with eyes flutterin on late nights,

Still loyal to the pen,His thoughts  in verse,bleedin fragranted words.

The Poet is an Omnipotent servant,with a will to ask and crave to learn.

A Philosopher,whose always an amateur in the pursuit of wisdom.

The Poet is an eternal slave of His Muse,the beverage of inspiration,

the spouse married to literature,adulterer of lyric,deceiver of prose.

He Knows no lapsus in all that is scandalous,royalty or sacred.

He is the artist, musician, actor,the clairvoyant  of destined paths.

He is the cheap clay's mold,carved in the sculpture of the next century.

The Poet is the unfinished book,the chapter in yesterday,

He is the Nobody of today and the bookmark  of tomorrow.

                      T  H  E        POET     IS       YOU    ! ! !
Samtoy Nov 2019
Its been so long since I left
But now I'm quite sure
I am feeling so well
Cause I found a cure

Messed up with my words
Run out of paper and pen
Now I've got these swords
Inorder to rise again
Its been a long time since I lasted posted here so I am back again guys
  Sep 2019 Samtoy
Emily Miller
My father walked me down the aisle,
But my mother held my arm.
He went with me,
But we went not towards the altar,
But towards the door.

My father walked me down the aisle,
And the ***** rang through the church,
Humming through the elaborate crown molding,
Carved by my ancestors.

He went,
Not beside me,
But before me,
And I watched,
As he was illuminated by the bright,
Texas sun.

My father walked me down the aisle,
But I did not wear white.
My father walked me in silence,
And I shed tears not for a man standing at the altar,
But for the one I would never see again.

My father walked me down the aisle,
And no veil obscured my face.
All eyes were upon me, but not for my pristine beauty,
Instead for my clenched jaw and furrowed brow,
Severe and fierce to distract from my glassy eyes.

My father did not leave me at the end of our walk to sit beside my mother.
She clung to me for support and sobbed breathlessly,
And I carried her with one hand,
My sister the other,
And walked towards my future.
A future family,
Not one person more,
But one person less.
I walked,
One final time,
With him.

My father walked me down the aisle,
And I will never forget it.
Hundreds of eyes isolating my family from the crowd,
Slow and muffled sounds drowning in the deafening beat of my heart,
Blurred faces staring,
Black heels clacking against the cobbled path from the church,
The anguished wails of my mother,
The whimpering of my sister,
And the wooden box that glided before us,
A string tied to our patriarch,
The pin key of our family,
Pulled taut and then snipped with the slam of the hearse doors.

My father walked me down the aisle,
Before I had a chance to grow up.
He walked me,
Out of the church,
Away from the altar,
Never to be walked again.
Samtoy Sep 2019
Inorder for someone to live
Someone needs to die
For life it can achieve
It needs to sacrifice
But even though gradually
They both fade away
Slow as it takes
This life of a candle
Nothing is permanent in this world
Samtoy Sep 2019
The hardest thing to mend
Is falling inlove
With your...
Samtoy Sep 2019
You push away yourself apart from me
You hide your face to me so that I can't see
You felt alone even if I am here
You still look for someone even if I'm near

You are not blind but you can't see my worth
You are not deaf but you can't  hear my heart
Did you take Anesthesia because you are so numb
Why  can't you still feel my true love

The history of my love for you shyness will **** geology
Its so deep that agriculture will transfer to anatomy
No one can measure my love even if you use math
But geology, anatomy, math it doesnt have connections too
What important is that I Love you
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