Poems about Reality
The world had taken on an unusual feel;
it didn’t really seem to be there;
instead, it seemed to be almost surreal;
twas a reality devoid of where.
How could anything possibly matter;
all things; destined to be thin air?
Life had become about useless chatter;
played before others,
I saw a scene of spectacular beauty;
wondering if it was real.
It was like a scene from a movie;
that’s why it had such appeal.
Did such a place really exist;
or was it just a dream instead?
when I awoke, would it persist;
or, just like my
Scrapbooks collected and stacked high;
of lives, long gone and forgotten;
new generations keep wondering why;
some of them noble; some, rotten.
Lifetimes of memories gone to the grave;
what possibly could be their reasons?
Centuries of peoples did history enslave;
were they all to be lived for man’s
Always unleash the power of thought;
for words are such feeble expressions;
deep in the mind; the power of ought;
words are such poor confessions;
Words are silent shadows of thought;
thoughts affirm what’s deep inside;
words, whispering what they brought;
but depth of meaning, they hide.
Words are
…A soul was the seed that was planted;
it would come to fruition quite soon;
another new life, had been granted;
and emerged from its energy coccoon.
A child was born; but that wasn’t life;
for real life was concealed within;
born to accept all the joys and strife;
Standing in the sun with auburn hair;
her beauty had nothing to hide;
perfect soft skin and a smile to share;
a portrait of the beauty inside;
Beauty displayed by the body, outside;
concealed that greater within;
for tho attempts, true beauty, hide;
inside is energy; outside, just skin.
The
…What about destiny becoming the past;
I thought destiny was future projection;
but how then can destiny ever last;
does my thinking require correction?
How can today progress to tomorrow;
can tomorrow ever manage to stay?
In such a way, can we dismiss sorrow;
allowing only happiness our way?
What
…What is most important to think about;
for we have so little time to think;
must we waste it all, groping with doubt;
while reality totters upon the brink?
What describes the world all around;
is it sight, sound or touch?
What is the greatest comparison found;
just right, too
