There once was a angel who couldn’t fly, There once was an angel who could look you in the eye, There once was a angel who could shed a tear, There once was an angel…
At the Foot of the Rock, by J. W. Cassandra: this poem I wanted to share sooner but we have internet in our new home as in a tale: “once upon a time…” So, now I can share it at last. The poem belongs to my volume 16, Light-Source, to cycle House of Life. I chose from Pixabay an illustration, made by dreamypixel or Ales Krivec. (J. W. Cassandra: Szilkafal tövében: a verset korábban szerettem volna megosztani, de csak úgy van internetünk, mint amesében: “hol volt, hol nem volt…” Ezért ilyen késve osztom meg. A vers a 16. kötetembe tartozik: Forrásfény, Az Élet Háza című ciklusba. A Pixabayről választottam illusztrációt, dreamypixel vagy Ales Krivec képét.)
At the Foot of the Rock, by J. W. Cassandra: this poem I wanted to share sooner but we have internet in our new home as in a tale: “once upon a time…” So, now I can share it at last. The poem belongs to my volume 16, Light-Source, to cycle House of Life. I chose from Pixabay an illustration, made by dreamypixel or Ales Krivec.
Time and moments make memories and are precious as jewellery.
Darkness walks along her veil following her footsteps.
This poem is for all all those, like me, who hate rains. To me it is a very miserable and depressing weather. There is nothing good about it except the food, hot tea, and fritters.
Never Ending Heavy Storm. Hope it would End One Day… Remained where I was … Others Ran Away. The Storm Remained. They Survived. I died.
” Love comes unexpectedly And goes unexpectedly It left us wondering in thoughts Why did it knock at our livesTo break ; apart or to shine it with What we have got .”
“A place of pilgrimage for dreamers with Pocketful’s of burning ambition…”
In the deep ocean of poetry, My pen is the ship that makes journey to the ocean majestic. I travel through this ocean whenever – I am confused what to do. It is the ocean…
Ode on Grecian urn is an ekphrasis poem dedicated to an urn from Greece that’s telling immortal stories about the pictures that are depicted on it. These stories mesmerize the speaker.
one day i am gonna drown
“And even beneath scars, there is a ghost of a smile.”
They Are Coming – The Poem They say my village’s soil is gold,And it’ll be much before I am oldour affluence will rise manifoldBut I think that the move is too boldthrough factories in every…
What is faith?
