Random Poetry


The river flows and he moves not,
No matter if the sun strikes hot.
Fully awake, his love he awaits,
And in his mind linger many debates.

The farmer’s clock suddenly chimes noon.
His heart despairs not, she’ll come soon.
His desire is stronger than his appetite,
But sadness glooms in the absence of light.

If patience is a virtue,
Then to him many respects are due.
Lightning strikes, yet he stays, bold,
Sitting under the moon’s nightly cold,
Because next morning he might just strike gold.




It is not bought, it is deserved.
But once acquired,
It cannot be sold, it must be kept.
Do you accept?




That cynic man,
That twisted guy,
Who made this Earth,
And the untainted sky,
Who made man walk,
And made birds fly,
He made men lie,
And babies cry,
He made you sly,
And made me shy,
That twisted guy,
Who’ll make me die,
I have my doubts,
I must ask, why?




I’ve been here before,
To this land I adore,
This place you deplore.
It’s this kingdom of mine,
Where all have a free mind,
Where I come every night,
At the decline of light!
And what joy I get,
From this marvelous sight!
Smiles stuck to faces,
Lies flock from all places!
It’s an escape from your world of misery;
At my arrival problems vanish quickly!
But you’re not welcomed with your bag of dirt,
Because then someone might just get hurt,
So if you want to join my nightmares,
Then you’ve got so much time to spare!




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