Only truthful hands write true poems. I cannot see any basic difference between a handshake and a poem.
Only truthful hands write true poems. I cannot see any basic difference between a handshake and a poem.
The heart hid still in the dark, hard as the Philosopher's Stone.
It is time it were time.
Poetry is a sort of homecoming.
Lack pounds of happiness -- you mirror them to death!
Love blots out its name: to
you it ascribes itself.
Reality is not simply there, it must be searched and won.
© 2020 Inspirational Stories
© 2020 Inspirational Stories