My poetry, if I may call it that, is blank verse. It has no official form or rhyming schemes, but remains precious to me, for these are some of my most intimate thoughts, emotions and conclusions that found a way to mean something, even on a small piece of paper or the screen of your computer.
I hope you will appreciate them as much as I do.
True Love
If I were love, what would sustain me?
Is it the people I prey on or love in return?
Love is complex as well as simple
It is a level of balance, hope and truth.
Love can bring world peace, but is the cause of war.
All can love and all can hope,
It is balance and truth that is our flaw.
When we lie out of love, is it still love?
When it is love for ourselves and what we hold dear,
that brings pain and discord,is our love pure?
Love is patient, love is true
Love is not petty or jealous in any way.
We find ourselves at an impasse.
We contradict our actions with love
And what is done in love’s name.
Is what we feel truly love?
Or is it just a taste of what true love could be?
