Poems About Love
All of life began as an empty slate;
where all possible stories are written;
a veritable feast with an empty plate;
and nothing, on earth, was forbidden.
All new trees, devoid of their leaves;
the color of green; then introduced;
death, born; and then, all life grieves;
once dead, allowed
Sometimes we obsess over the valley of death;
fear takes us on a neverending ride;
the thought of taking our very last breath,
makes us seek, a knowledgable guide.
How can a valley of death bring us peace;
is the King of Glory in sight?
The place, God promises sweet
We often think of love as an ocean;
something we all can fall in;
we’re rarely consumed with devotion;
tho that is where love needs begin.
Love may come in different incarnations;
many are drawn, by another’s beauty;
others bound, through divine supplications;
even some others, prompted by
We’ve been told to raise up a child,
in a way pleasing to the Master;
implying, on their own, each are wild;
and in need of a personal pastor.
Some have taken it almost a threat;
if anything’s wrong; they’re to blame;
leaving many parents, living in
Love is the oxygen that empowers the soul;
when inhaled, it makes life worth living;
a deeper connection to the Master, its role;
it’s far less about taking, than giving.
It’s the soft gentle breeze, in the heat of the day;
and the passionate kisses, warming each night;
Love comes about, as a tenuous breeze;
commanding very little attention;
suddenly asserting itself, like a sneeze;
its revealed, from another dimension.
What is the cause of such mutual affection;
is there some deeper connection of minds?
Overcoming all our basic fears of rejection,
it seems a cornerstone of divinity’
Birthed in perfection, we became proud;
seeking to enhance our growth of power;
joining evil, while wrapped in a shroud;
not allowing perfection to flower.
Often, dishonesty creeps into our midst;
bringing about a loss of trust;
some, like Judas, are frauds, we’ve kissed;
but love, isn’t replaced,
Is the horseshoe able to feel the pain,
administered by the blacksmith’s hammer;
or, does life, alone, sense loss or gain;
from all of life’s hardships or glamor?
Does the hurricane hurt, blowing down trees;
or drown in the the flood waters, ensuing;
is there a force that
