Potpourri

“To control one’s self is to stay on course.” - – - Jan-16-2010 Greenfullmoon
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I exists because God wants me, To wander the entire humanity And guess what I can share to thee? My poem that’s full of melody - – - Jan-16-2010,past midnight Greenfullmoon
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Though our lives are temporary Our Spirit’s shall dwell into eternity And in eternity I will always carry The love for you on earth I treaty - – - Jan-14-010 Greenfullmoon
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White is lifeless where contrast is wanting, when the blankness of words echo the need to talk; to befriend someone– the language of strangers is silence before hello.   But when you look at me like that and show your radiant smile, all the mental walls collapse around me.   I shed my color of white and turn to red–   I’m blushing all over before you.
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They were doing barbecue in the patio The warm noonday breeze wafted the aroma Of steaks, broiled potatoes-in-skin pressing through Screen doors, settling in the hems of curtains The savory smell of burnt fat of t-bone edges Hovered tantalizingly despite the gusty breeze A sudden downpour sent the cook scampering for cover Upsetting the heavy grating, scattering the smoldering Embers hissing a...
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Sleep tight herein my arms While the night's enveloped with warm. Evening lights are bringing charm, Enchanted and bright released with rhyme Tis a wonderful night tis for us, sweetheart of mine
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curly eyelashes which surround each elliptical eyes overhanged by prominent, lustrous black eyebrows leaving a deep expression of solemnity and awe; long, dark shiny hair rest upon yer shoulders endearingly harmonized with the lovely face; enliven the sudden glow of yer red rosy cheeks; not to forget yer kissable lips; lady-like features of a young girl
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how much is enough? i look up and laugh as i could remember unreachable; never. when you came home late, am i wrong to ask? why you didn’t call, have you ever thought about it? probably not. you came home screaming, coz newspaper wasn’t pick, dishes were not wash am i wrong to ask about these entire outburst? you’re already mad before you open my door. have you ever thought?...
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Pen, Pen, Sarah’s Pen She wants her pen always open To write on her cherished diary The things transpired into eternity Oh how Sarah loved her pen T’was given to her by her boy-friend And guess how young when she was then A dose of puberty, she was ten She never lost this special pen Until college when she met Ren But Ren was...
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poems are made by fools like me rhymed words fill each line endeared by your memories; clouds vanish easily yet they’ll never, never die  
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