The Poet's heart

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  • Lost Love

    The Poet's heart

    No uttered words the poet speaks
    No skies of golden hue
    No tales of unrequited love
    They were lost when I lost you.

    No words to caress her lover’s heart
    And gone the dreams she swore they’d live
    But alone within the poet dwells
    No uttered words, none left to give.

    No music swells within her soul
    Just silence surrounds her heart
    And the solitude engulfs her world
    When the poet and love depart.

    And lost the beauty she once could see
    And the glory she saw each day
    Now the poet pens her last farewell
    No more love can she convey.

    But what’s the poet’s soul to do?
    To release the love se feels
    For she’ll surely die and wither
    If that love she now conceals.

    She must hide the hurt and heartache
    Just smile to friends and say
    I’m fine…Love doesn’t matter
    And deceive them all the way.

    For a different face she’ll show them
    To barricade her pain
    To hide her scattered spirit
    Form the love she ne’er attained.

    But the pain within shall kill her
    Not soon but through the years
    For the poet knows her anguish
    When alone she shed’s his tears.

    And at night when dreams come calling
    With his voice, his smile, his eyes
    A single tear upon her cheek
    Hides the pain her heart belies.

    For she loved his soul completely
    Was consumed by beauty’s bliss
    Had shared his inner thought’s
    But never shared his kiss.

    And when death comes to the poet
    And to heaven her soul ascends
    She’ll smile before her beauty
    For eternity never ends.

    So will the poet regret the life
    Which stole away the years
    No, she’ll simply recall the love
    She felt in all his tears.

    And when her love has joined him
    And they meet in heaven’s bliss
    Their regrets will quickly perish
    As they kiss their first sweet kiss.

    And the words will quickly flow again
    From my thoughts, to hand, to book
    I’ll not write of god or heaven
    When upon your face I look.

    So the poet’s again a poet
    For the words were always there
    I just didn’t see much beauty
    When your love I couldn’t share.
    So their souls will find the love at last
    That in life they could not seek
    And the poet soon finds the words in you
    The words, she could not speak…

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    The true philosopher and the true poet are one, and a beauty, which is truth, and a truth, which is beauty, is the aim of both.

    Ralph Waldo Emerson, American Poet (1803-1882)

    Thisstarlight’s Poems (11)

    Title Comments
    Title Comments
    The Poet's heart 0
    Mist the mind 0
    You love me in my dreams 0
    Life's little treasures 0
    To the broken hearted 1
    The moments 0
    The improbable possibly 0
    Slice of beauty 0
    Points of perspective 0
    Metaphor your heart in a poet's pain 0
    If love was beyond a dream 0