Inspirations

There’s what we call paradise, Where soul and flesh never dies. A place we can say we’re home! Where love and peace freely roam. - The tears, woes and pains – all gone. Where the screams are heard as one. A life that is so blissful. Where empty jars become full. - The clouds were once grim and gray Reveal hues of golden ray. The book...
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There are times When they put in mind That everything will be just fine And things will be alright Those times are just imaginations Where they can have all the satisfactions Where they can soar the heaven so high While staring at the ocean moving so slow and mild But those times are just dreams And every moment they open their eyes Reality always...
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If there something I don’t wanna sell _Is the genuinity of my love Alway it is for only one damcel _At a time, it shall only throb So forgive me if I decline _Insinuations of such offer No need to drink other wine _Cause I’m not a heart broker - – - - 1-26-010 Greenfullmoon
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  Peachy, orangey blissful day So calm, so freshly blessed by morning dews Clean, cool waters cascading from falls to rivers and bay Sparkling, dashing rays lighting up greens where flowers grew Sweet aromas of roses, lavenders, chamomiles and pine trees Tempting, invigorating scent fluctuating with sea breeze   Serenade of humming birds flying on the sky Children playing on soft pale sand Deer...
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What happened to me? _When you left the pines. . . . . Someone that pleases me _No longer be entwined Don’t take it out of context _What is said to this poem Guess what I like next? _Is to wish you’re back home - – - - Greenfullmoon Jan-11-2010
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It has been a year rife with verses and one that ripened my craft further. A thankful and happy holidays to the staff who strove to improve the site,  fellow versifiers who inspired by being themselves and who enhanced by selflessly giving their expert opinions humbly. God bless our New Year!
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A true friend you shall find _In times when you’re in need Who stands at your behind _But not betray, no greed - – - – - 12/23/09, 11:30 pm Greenfullmoon
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It was the wrong time. The sands, sifted, shifted to a door ajar. The closed music box played “Fur Elise,” drew Therese into its liquid trace. Without the phantasm of plinks, the sleeping flowed crimson bereft of grief. New-bought, the little liberation blasphemed the serendipity of a sunny serenity (advent, silphium, eulogy).
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Everyday is a rebirth of habits, but  in every waking there’s change in sight. I open my eyes with newfound innocence, unmindful of past guilts, unburdened by unfulfilled expectations and promises unkept. I go to the toilet to flush all my worries and mental indigestion which I resolved to forget overnight, but could not. I brush my teeth to erase the bitter aftertaste of things said, and words that I ate out...
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The year of the ox- ymoron. Old news, same differences. The year of the parad- ox. Do not cross there’s a wall you’ll get hurt. The year the wall broke- down like an into- xicated man who’s lost his heart’s balance.
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