Is there no love in a poets heart?
How does the mighty oak tree fall
Never could a world break apart
I hold it strong with no love at all
Romance, a soft touch, deft and deep
Light-hearted, with sad'ned smile
As I create, no false tears do I weep
Some, perhaps, for a pen-mans' stlye
I cannot love as some might think
No deep-heart empathy for recall
From the cup of others I do drink
For myself, I grow no grapes at all
I tell you all who read this sorry tale
The truth of poets and lovers like me
We rape the truth of those who wail
From the pain of loves' plain insanity
If a woman, should ever I meet
Treads the steps of a merry love
Give a caution to the way I greet
This mood of passion, raised above
To me I will let you give your all
But rational mind in me is fast set
See the breast which rise and fall
No feelings from this heart as yet
Thus while she groans, do I store
Those feelings of love expressed
Maggot-like, deep inside I bore
Taking note of all that is the best
I creep my way into tender soul
Stealing from juices of erotic cry
From passions come the words I stole
Her feelings, impressed for my lie
If ever you read you will know
I love the tale, the romantic pelt
Lovers and poets have little to show
Borrowed emotion, not real felt
Stunted, lonely, no flower can grow
You who know love, feel its worth
Are rich, fertile, happy with seed
But poor love-poet treads the earth
And rears a head among the weed
Don't ever cry or, in faith, pity me
I jape the fool and give impression
But the heart is empty, can't you see
Knows only acts of loves transgression.
A knave of hearts, the name's well read
Take care dear sweetheart when I call
Look on me, then carefull tread
Knowing I know no conscience call
I'll borrow from your passions bled
Leech the pinch and moan the act
Once feelings mine, no words are said
All poets' mood is mine intact!
Free Forum Hosting
Important Announcement
First 