Robert Mestre

Love is
love that
love would
love to
...

There once was an old Irish Setter,
So ugly that no one would pet her,
Then one day she was struck
By a huge garbage truck,
...

My eyes have cried
a million times,
now as dry
as dessert sand.
...

I saw the Devil yesterday,
Children dead, their parents slain,
People silenced for what they say,
Leaders applauding sorrow and pain.
...

Haunted droplets of silver rain
Falling from the sullen eyes
Of shattered dreams and pain
Within a man misunderstood.
...

Poor Poet
Peter Peters
Pens Prose
Per Pesky
...

One summer day I walked
Along a wooded path so far
That time was left behind
And above my head were stars.
...

As I sit here bathed in candle light
In contemplation of what now I write,
I wonder if I can ever compose
My fleeting thoughts into written prose?
...

Innocence.
Stolen and replaced
with callous hands
and drunken breath.
...

Do you love me?
Yes I do!
Then tell me how.
I will for you!
...

How can you describe a Poet?
Within this poem I'll try,
To define the un definable,
Though this meaning may be shy.
...

This happened many years ago
in a town called Angels Bay,
That there took place the suicide,
Of broken hearted Anna-Mae.
...

my crazy world
broke
by periods
of sleeping sanity
...

What words are there to convey,
These things my heart longs to say,
That you have not heard a million times
In countless stories, and endless rhymes.
...