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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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What is poetry?


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.
Not every citizen can become a poet. If almost every one of us, at different times, under the influence of certain reasons or trends, was engaged in writing his thoughts, then it is unlikely that the vast majority will be able to admit to themselves that they are a poet.
Genre of poetry touches such strings in the human soul, the existence of which a person either didn’t suspect, or lowered them to the very bottom, intending to give them delight.


There are poets whose work, without exaggeration, belongs to the treasures of human thought and rightly is a world heritage. In our electronic library you will find a wide variety of poetry.
Opening a new collection of poems, the reader thus discovers a new world, a new thought, a new form. Rereading the classics, a person receives a magnificent aesthetic pleasure, which doesn’t disappear with the slamming of the book, but accompanies him for a very long time like a Muse. And it isn’t at all necessary to be a poet in order for the Muse to visit you. It is enough to pick up a volume, inside of which is Poetry. Be with us on our website.

Read books online » Poetry » Poetry~ by M.M.K (best ereader for pc .txt) 📖

Book online «Poetry~ by M.M.K (best ereader for pc .txt) 📖». Author M.M.K



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but never find,

she Repeats, repeats, repeats.

"I wanted to be a stay at home Mama."

Her southern drawl leans with her tired body.

My world unravels at the seams of the skyline as she trembles.

She is the mother of four daughters.

She raised them alone.

All the pretty girls were fed,

asleep,

safe,

loved,

and

She whispered her love,

As she walked into the night,

to give them everything.

She built a life for us,

with her heart and we never knew.

It has been twenty one years, And now she begs for rest.

My paradise is shattered.

Emotions have ravished its tropical shore,

Tearing out the trees and permanently

Crushing the stars,

Tearing up the moon and its Dancing beams of silver light.

My inextinguishable sun burns on.

You taught me to love, and my love for you

Is the glowing sun in the remains.

It cannot be extinguished.

You are tired.

You have given too much of yourself.

Your sacrifice is seen.

I will build a sky for you now,

Place all the stars in place,

Calm the roaring winds,

Silence the crashing waves.

It is time for quiet.

It is time for rest.

Song of Surrender

My mind is at War and the Demons within are winning.

They were born for battle.

They do not kill, but only take prisoners.

Their shadows haunt and surround.

They whisper of my doubts, fears, and weakness.

Their voices wrap around my chest.

My heart fights to escape, it sings its song of surrender.

The Demons refuse to relent, as they watch me beg.

Trapped in the War against myself.

 

My mind is an Ocean.

It can be clear and calm.

No storm can change its serenity.

On the worst of days,

It can drag me under its icy depths.

My illness is the water filling my lungs.

My sickness is the storm that will be my demise,

If I do not fight.

 

My hands are reaching,

I find no comfort in this Mind of Demons and Waves of Torment.

 

I disconnect,

As I begin to drown.

I listen to my Demon’s sweet Elegy.

 

With whispers of love.

My solider brings me back.

He holds me and pushes the Demons away,

I sink, but he pulls me back to shore.

I am safe in that warmth.

That moment of peace,

Tells me everything I need.

I am outnumbered by this sickness,

But I have an army to help me fight.

 

 

 

 

Imprint

Text: Writing belongs to M.M.K, and may not be distributed in any other way.
Images: I do not claim that any photographys belong to me.
Publication Date: 12-11-2010

All Rights Reserved

Dedication:
For all those who inspire: the writers, the readers, and for everyone I cherish. “All men dream, but not equally. Those who dream by night in the dusty recesses of their minds, wake in the day to find that it was vanity; but the dreamers of the day are dangerous men, for they may act their dream with open eyes, to make it possible.” - T.E. LAWRENCE

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