Most poets are inspired by
A muse in their daily lives.
A spark of a love that carries
The weight of an anvil
Dropped in bliss.
And though the flowers may blossom
Bloom, and die
My love for you shall never be a lie.
End of poem one.
An angel she appears to be
But with me she shares her devil
A secret lying in wait
Delivered to me by fate.
An edict brought forth
That thou shall love.
End of poem two.
Eyes are windows to the soul
With pathways to the future laid by
Gods.
The makings of design
Told and retold a million times
Such complexities for the mind.
Yet not all of us are born blind
To the hidden truth left behind
Love is eternal
And blind.
End of Poem three
I once knew a man
Fit as a fiddle
Yet for all his meddling
He could not solve my riddle.
To the ends I may travel
And to the ends I may return
But for all my deeds
I’ve yet to learn
End of Poem four
A rose may prick
And a rose may bleed
And mother nature we do not heed.
Was I talking about a flower?
Or something about the more divinely hour?
In either case
End of Poem five
Bogdan's Review Blog 