Poems About Love
The Paradox Of Time
What were we doing; when time came about;
certainly not passing the time of day?
Time has turned all thinking inside-out;
leaving us little time to pray.
I cannot conceive of a world without time;
only in heaven could it exist;
where thoughts, conceived; become
The Kingdom Of Propaganda
The heavenly kingdom depends upon truth;
love is God’s spoken memoranda;
confronted by prodigals, defiant and aloof;
cast to the kingdom of propaganda.
The earth was a virtual hell in disguise;
a melting pot where devils reign;
the kingdom of propaganda and lies;
where the
A Time To Mourn
There’s a time and place for everything;
or so the Scriptures tell;
a time to laugh; to cry; and sing;
even a place called hell.
All our lives are divided into seasons;
each one of them has a purpose;
only the Master understands reasons;
in
When The Sun Rises
When the sun rises; and the darkness ends;
life turns another page in its book;
evil whispers to both enemies and friends;
suggesting all past is forsook.
While evil still casts a great many shadows;
running to escape the light of the sun;
rapidly the sun
Happenstance
Life is a most mysterious form of dance;
our free will seems open to question;
on the corner of destiny and circumstance;
free will is the Master’s suggestion.
God created all life with free will;
in heaven we had our own choice;
we all would be in that
The Subtlety Of Difference
Those confused, living in this physical illusion;
are often led to a mistaken inference;
causing them to make a flawed conclusion;
not considering the subtlety of difference.
We often speak of the river of life’s flow;
as tho each life is the same composition;
but
The Eyes Of A Fool
In my old age, I’m just a man in love;
breaking every life rule;
destiny awaits me; in a kingdom above;
as seen thru eyes of a fool.
Teased by thoughts of lingering romance;
tho my body is breaking down;
I’m simply too
Lonely Within
I find myself living in a lonely season;
and it seems that it never ends;
suddenly devoid of purpose and reason;
a cloud of depression descends.
Why am I still hear; what is my purpose;
why is loneliness meant to be?
When will reason suddenly surface;
granting me
