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One of the ancients,once said that poetry is "the mirror of the perfect soul." Instead of simply writing down travel notes or, not really thinking about the consequences, expressing your thoughts, memories or on paper, the poetic soul needs to seriously work hard to clothe the perfect content in an even more perfect poetic form.
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Reading books RomanceThe unity of form and content is what distinguishes poetry from other areas of creativity. However, this is precisely what titanic work implies.
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Read books online » Poetry » Tomorrow Maybe by Laszlo Kugler (reading the story of the .TXT) 📖

Book online «Tomorrow Maybe by Laszlo Kugler (reading the story of the .TXT) 📖». Author Laszlo Kugler



Tomorrow...Maybe

 

"Tomorrow I shall set her free"

I said while jumping off a tree.

 

Another day, another night.

I approach'd her to hold her tight.

 

She waved me away, shook her head;

Turned a deaf ear to all I said.

 

Not even looking round to see,

I went to hide back up my tree.

 

 

May my dream come true tomorrow,

And remove this dreadful sorrow.

 

She then smiled sweet as best she could.

My heart stood still, became as wood.

 

She touched my hand, then caress'd my face;

A touch as soft as silken lace.

 

Her smile...a sweet Irish maid's smile,

Brought joy to me...but for awhile.

 

Day morphed into a starless night.

Yet still I prayed with all my might.

 

 

Hope grows stronger every day.

Perhaps 'I love you', she will say.

 

The leaves around me have grown thin.

Yet still my pain remains within.

 

I watch as she toils below me

In her garden so fair and free.

 

Tulips scarlet, and violets blue.

Why can't she feel my heart so true?

 

Oh, to love her with all my soul!

A worthy prize of any goal.

 

But here I sit so helplessly

While wishing her to notice me.

 

Summer will leave... cold winds will blow.

Bringing the rain, and sleet and snow.

 

If only I a human be

Perhaps then she would notice me.

 

A pixie lad Fate had me born.

A rose is she, but I a thorn.

 

A green-eyed human maid is she

So, Maggie cannot be with me.

 

 

Two worlds apart ...two souls are we.

Yet still my love can't set her free.

 

She views me as if but a dream.

An apparition it would seem.

 

Now too old to believe in me.

A wee winged creature in a tree.

 

She shuns such games she once held dear.

Her childish views now less than clear.

 

A plan have I... a plan so sweet.

Tonight I'll show her as we meet

 

That I'm as real as she is fair.

I now will tell you... if I dare.

 

At midnight when the moon is bright

Out she'll step to the silvery light.

 

When flowers like the Night Datura,

And the Lily Casablanca

 

Greet Maggie with open petals,

It's then on cue...lest courage fizzles.

 

Swiftly I'll place a magic kiss...

A faerie's bite... I dare not miss.

 

 

She'll then be mine...the spell will pass.

I then can whisper to my lass,

 

"Oh, how I longed to set you free!

Now hold on tight, come fly with me."

 

 

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Publication Date: 06-13-2013

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