Self
We all want love,
Don't we all get that,
From God up above?
To really love self,
Has to be truly felt,
Or the message is gone,
So all you do is play along.
On the fringes of life,
Never knowing why,
People are not close,
Maybe you're to morose?
Wanting to be,
What you know you can,
Never thinking you have fans.
Confidence is easy for some,
Some of us are always on the run.
Trying to fit in,
Where there is so much sin.
Poetry is not a turning loose of emotion, but an escape from emotion.
T. S. Eliot (1888-1965) American-English poet and playwright.
| Title | Comments | Submitted |
|---|---|---|
| Title | Comments | Submitted |
| Feelings | 4 | 08/26/2009 |
| Nature Doodle | 5 | 08/26/2009 |
| Self | 0 | 08/26/2009 |
| Mind of a Poet | 1 | 08/26/2009 |
| I Love to Dance | 4 | 07/10/2009 |
| Lonely Boy | 1 | 07/07/2009 |
| Disillusion | 7 | 04/17/2009 |
| Anticipation | 9 | 03/31/2009 |
| Friday Night With the Girls | 6 | 03/27/2009 |
| Just a Dream | 2 | 03/27/2009 |
| Hot and Bothered | 12 | 03/26/2009 |
| Daughters | 6 | 03/26/2009 |
| Someone to Care | 1 | 03/26/2009 |
| Pain in Body and Soul | 6 | 03/26/2009 |
| Out in the Woods | 3 | 03/25/2009 |
| Rainy Day | 5 | 03/18/2009 |
| Tropical Paradise | 4 | 03/18/2009 |
| Spring Again | 3 | 03/17/2009 |
| Spring | 3 | 03/17/2009 |
| Where Are You? | 6 | 03/03/2009 |
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