To imitate..
you have to learn how to wait,
your fear is very clear
...
The melody, you and me
say it again and let it rain
LOVE TO ME,
...
(A great one while calling his barroness by these names...)
It was a scent...BUT not just any,...
her scent filled the air
...
Amazing lady you..
like you has never been..
like him has never seen..
and no one will know,
...
your heart beats shaped in a sorrowful poem..
filled by the heat of a hot ZONE, ..
...
(for whom forced me to leave that orphan) ...
(I hear an orphan's tear while covered with his fear)
ohh, , on that list
...
last night where the soul's sorrow was a mate,
last night where she found one start,
...
(a simple cheerful poem..changing the dusty wheather.) ..............
...
(occupation of the minds IS more dangerous than occupation of the lands)
you win yourself the moment your mind is free
...
30/03 raped land's day..more than 60 years of occupation..many decades passed while an old lady caries her stolen home's key, wondering if this is realy what do they call civilization... a lady and a key grew old while they long to kiss that door.....to inhale that fresh air from that green land..
...
</>Dive deeply through the passages of my mind..
paths leading into the depth and warmth of my soul's home,
...
(A prose which was written few months back)
....................................................................................
(for some of my friends whom I lost sadly today) .....
...
My home based on love, patients
honesty, and sincerity, made my whole
slowly, slowly as snail reach my goal
...
note: iam still under the attack of the Rats WHOM THANKFULLY push my poems to be advanced in top 500.....and by the way..they come to the trap by themselves...many have been caught....26/9/09...
I close my windows, my doors and for you a trap I left in WHICH you will be caught,
...
SAME RACE............................
Able to face
...
Why to wonder for the rain
why to wonder?
it is clash of the clouds
...
Between that sweet taste and your name in her mouth
few moments there were.
...
ONE DAY I THOUGHT OF LEAVING
,
IT WAS A MOMENT.. I CLOSED MY EYES,
...
Sipping Feelings, Spiritual Red
To imitate..
you have to learn how to wait,
your fear is very clear
with my heart I can hear,
with my eyes auscultate,
speed of light to a crawling
can't be rate
day by day, shedding tears
when you bear, deeply love accumulate,
your dreams were a bed, her dreams as a kid
only love her bread,
to be loved with a will
colored patience,
raising head,
to be you, eating thoughts,
sipping feelings,
spiritual red,
To be high or to fall, to be alive or a dead,
in between is a piece of a thread,
To be unique, you have to be as the greek
with a history, never fake
To be you, united be soul and mind
all of you, no one break
To be an ocean you have to be many seas,
many lakes
To be a true, always be only you.
Your poem was full of emotion and i enjoyed reading it very much ^^ but the unneccessary capital words somewhat forced your message in a way of a turn off. Since this poem has a great and powerful message, you did a very impressive job in setting forth emotion to bring this piece alive. =)
your writing is so gracious and full of understanding...you leave me speechless as always with your amazing imagery that inspires me^^
Tamara I read and think you are a great person that I could have met in my lifetime...that is done as we meet on the street of poemhunter.
Alot of feeling and true life events in your poem. It must have been quite difficult in some parts to write. Amazing how you stayed as the one orphan. Very impresive poem and well done.look forward to your next one. keep up the great writing.
Interesting style the way you play with rhyme, reminds me of dada poems which does not sems to make too much sense but actually makes lots of sense.
POETS HAVE ONE THING IN COMMON. LOVE FOR THE PEOPLE AND THEY ARE LIKE SOLDIERS IN WAR.THEY RESCUE EACH OTHER, HELP EACH OTHER AND DIE FOR THE WHOLE COMMUNITY.THANK YOU FOR BEING A POET.
Occupation of the minds are more dangerous than occupation of the lands
right on good job on the poem