Fresh lilies cut
On a summer afternoon
Whiteness and purity,
Angelic, dust
...
A kiss, a rose, a tear
How much lives
In this sphere,
When Love's
...
As the Night begins to slumber,
And most dreams start to awake,
I do softly sigh and wonder,
If true love is really great.
...
A World
Where dreams don't shatter
And goodness goes ahead,
Where Lies are not what matter,
...
Because poets can dream
The moon is made of lace
Sea of discovery,
The world of fantasy
...
Around madness
Lie some dreams,
Is it sadness
In reality,
...
How much better
The world would be
If instead of being mean,
Most of us were in love,
...
Poetry can transport you
And take you far away
To a land where love
Fits like a glove,
...
I suppose,
Some feel, or maybe many,
That Poetry is an absolute waste of time,
Not worth a coffee dime,
...
Souls of floating lovers,
In Eternity will meet,
Those that could not,
Would not, love on Earth,
...
If poet's would not dream,
Who Would?
Our invasive computers?
Our impersonal answering machines?
...
Poets are dreams,
Of flesh and blood,
Make believe nonsense,
That never was,
...
You came to me
In dreams from
Far away,
The kind, once
...
To live
Vicariously
Thru Poetry,
And Good Feelings
...
If we loved each other
As much as poets
Love Poetry,
There would be
...
The unstoppable
Feeling
That cannot be
Defined
...
You came to me,
Like in a dream,
Your voice, your words,
The sweetest heard.
...
Yes,
Poets can still dream,
On white pages,
On traveling clouds,
...
What a great pleasure,
Great Poetry is,
It opens your mind,
And in your heart can beam,
...
A poet's dream can reach up high,
Sometimes, even beyond the sky,
Thus go to regions, yet not met,
Where feelings become transparent,
...
Things are not what they seem,
No longer words mean what they mean,
A Surrealistic Dream,
Come true.
...