A stone thrown in a pond,
sets ripples out far beyond.
the water churns and swirls around,
a magical movement, has been found,
...
My eyes are simple
It only sees the beauty
The curves of Mountains
The splashes of the breeze
...
As the moon ready to pass the baton
And sun is ready to rise again
The birds clear feathers
The bees ready with buzzers
...
My lips are sealed, I cannot speak
for the enemy has made me weak
entered through my eyes, reached my heart
and now rules my brain, tearing me apart
...
Sky clear, leaves dancing
No dews on tin roof either
The weather is thether
Feathers are clear to fly
...
There once was a man called Liam.
He said, 'See the science museum! '
It was rather will,
But not very ill will,
...
I give heart and soul to poetry,
each verse an expression of my identity,
words flowing freely, a symphony,
elevating my spirit, a feeling so heavenly.
...
Bring back those golden days of yore
when simple joys brought us much more
when laughter flowed and tears were few
and skies were painted in azure hue
...
A Stone Thrown In A Pond.
A stone thrown in a pond,
sets ripples out far beyond.
the water churns and swirls around,
a magical movement, has been found,
but eventually the rhythm slows,
the stone's effects start to discompose,
the pond is still, calm and cool,
waiting for the next ripple's rule.