A Love to Last

4 Comments

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  • Hope
    • Paint
    • is doin some Solitary Thinkin-- Lee Ann Womack

    A Love to Last

    Loosened into thought
    I didn't mean to impose
    I just felt comforted
    by your heart how it grows

    Lost into turmoil
    I'm sorry to be
    Such a lonely one
    to accompany thee

    I didn't mean to wreak havoc upon your heart
    to leave bloody dusty battle scars
    it was never my intention to draw your breath
    I just wanted to instill a love to last

    It's not the last connection
    For I am a lonely impression
    of a man too far with misery
    an unknown heart
    it's tomb called lost debris

    Oh how you've made my heart glow
    and beat with your undertone
    understood and listened to
    you made me feel so in tuned

    The world is not such a lonely place
    to know there's someone of my own race
    not just a loving heart
    but one that's scarred and fell apart

    I'm sorry to be such a lonely companion
    I didn't mean to be a heart's tragedy
    I just wanted to instill a love to last
    Your friendship means the world me.

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    latinangel commented on A Love to Last

    08-10-2009

    I absolutely and totally love this poem. It is very touching and beautifully written. Your words struck a chord with me. I agree with Raven friends are supposed to be there for you through good times and bad. That's what we do. You are never alone - I hope you will consider me a friend. Thank you for sharing your eloquent words.

    photochick commented on A Love to Last

    07-25-2009

    omg paint your a true artist your words are that of art and beauty such passion and caring emotions your ease to write from your soul and deep within your heart is simply amazing leaves me speechless and to say your poetry doesn't compare your so wrong your words that you write are far more grand then anything i can ever write great poem paint I will never get tired of reading your stuff

    Tempy commented on A Love to Last

    07-25-2009

    i liked your poems from the start, could tell it came from the heart, even though you feel you fell apart, at least you turned it into art.

    Poetry is not an expression of the party line. It's that time of night, lying in bed, thinking what you really think, making the private world public, that's what the poet does.

    Allen Ginsberg (1926-1997) U.S. poet.

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