I wrote these my self on myspace a wile Ago and people say thay are good so i want to here what you think
†love sorro’s
♥"wings of a dream"
†On the Wings of Dreams
I’m flying free
with a dreamer’s dream,
To a land without fear, darkness, and doubt;
Where shadows and hauntings
of all time and space,
Are rainbows with colors that endlessly grace…
happiness, hope, and all joys to embrace.
♣A land with no storms, without pouring rains,
where changes abound and great comfort remains;
Where all hate is replaced,
all questions erased;
Where new memories are shaped,
with wonderous light…
of romance and love, before out of sight;
A dreamland of heaven without jaded thought,
where butterflies are free,
their colors uncaught;
With milk oceans to see,
fresh air to breathe;
Countless flowers and trees,
fragrancing the soft whispering breeze.
No more webs of deceit,
where lovers have fought;
No battles of hopelessness,
Where all love is lost.
Maybe our dreams hold the land of our thoughts,
Or maybe our hearts have learned lessons well taught.
♠It is the stairway to heaven,
this dreamland we seek…
Hopefully for all is more than a peek…
at a future end to the ultimate pain,
of great loyalty and love…
lost and estranged.
This dance of life I endlessly write,
is an end to the pain, and every soul’s light.
To a life fulfilled at the end of our time…
To dream second chances for new love we can find.
Here’s to all of us ending our heavenly climb,
†With the company of romance and lovelight sublime.†
[2 Poem]
Falling Apart
Turning and turning in the widening gyre
The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
Things fall apart; the center cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
The best lack all conviction, while the worst
Are full of passionate intensity.
Surely some revelation is at hand;
Surely the Second Coming is at hand;
The Second Coming! Hardly are those words out
When a vast image out of Spiritus Mundi
Troubles my sight: somewhere in sands of the desert
A shape with lion body and the head of a man,
A gaze blank and pitiless as the sun,
Is moving its slow thighs, while all about it
Reel shadows of the indignant desert birds.
The darkness drops again; but now I know
That twenty centuries
of stony sleep
Were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle,
And what rough beast, its hour come round at last
Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?
