the touch of a broken love

*

*

 if love is beautiful

as the words that written

why the beauty was so vulnerable

*
 
if love is painful

as tenderness as sliced by a knife

why the wound was not bleed

*
 
your feelings are so tender

but hinted of disappointment

your words are so sweet

but painted by anguish

*

please explain … oh poet

whether the words just the expression of feelings

whether the tenderness was the cry of soul

or just an emotional moment when touched by a broken love

*

oh poet

if the poems were the picture of your heart

how miserable your life is

***

– mei –

*

at the touch of love, everyone becomes a poet
(Plato)

***

photo: http://www.desktopnexus.com/

*

for you….

gone with the reverie

if you are an idea

I will kiss you

if you are imagination

I will hug you

if you are words

I will fondle you

but you are just reverie

passed in instant

dragging my words along

left me staring at a blank paper

***

– mei –

no poetry for today

there are
thousand of words sitting in head
but none willing to stand up
to be marched in verses of poetry
while
the imagination is getting tired of waiting
and it went along with a day passing
today
they were unwilling to coöperate
really disappointing
nothing could do but wait
till they meet in a mood
when?
O… so sorry
no one knows
perhaps later, … tomorrow
or
the day after tomorrow

***

– mei –

be positive – Mahatma Gandhi

Mohandas Karamchand Gandhi,

Keep your thoughts positive
because
your thoughts become your words
)

Keep your words positive
because
your words become your behaviour
)

Keep your behaviour positive
because
your behaviour become your habits
}

Keep your habits positive
because
your habits become your values
}

Keep your values positive
because
your values become your destiny

English: Signature of Mahatma Gandhi. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

– Mahatma Gandhi –

)

***

– mei –

something to tell

I think that I am a dreamer, which follow my imagination

which dancing with the sense and mind

wishing of something to tell

I think I belong to the words, and make them my world

  playing with the lines of a poem

wishing of something to tell

but often my imagination seems friendless

the words are seems so endless

and the lines of the poem so far away

for there is nothing to tell

and sometimes when I am feeling so helpless

when I am almost to surrender

then I remember that I am a dreamer

so I have to be had

something to tell