Deepest Passions

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    Deepest Passions

    Do my words make you laugh and make you cry?
    Don't blame my words if they rush to your heart
    They are the deepest passions I posses
    Drawn in the simplest manner I can chart
    Like lovely bird songs echo in the woods
    Some gay, some sad, but all are works of art
    You are the inspiration for my words
    My words, your laughs and tears can't live apart

    Words rush to my lips when I think of you
    Like streams in spring that cross the fields with ease
    I never meant to let your tears come down
    Except from joy and passionate release
    I feel so happy in your hapiness
    And I feel so miserable in your tease
    I hear your laughing in the meadow springs
    And smell your perfume in the morning breeze

    Let me right for you what I never wrote
    For any woman at no time or place
    You are the queen of queens, a song of songs
    That's worth the best of prose and best of verse
    The Queen of Sheba would but fit a maid
    To fold your night gown and to chant your grace
    Which language would fulfill my thoughts of you?
    And which words would fit better in your case?

    Don't blame my words if they rush to your heart
    They bring to you the dearest of my soul
    Don't blame my songs if they let your tears down
    To cheer your heart will ever be my goal
    You are my life's joy even when you cry
    A joy to my world in part or in whole
    A world without Napoleons might be great
    A world without you is not a world...at all !

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    sunnah3 commented on Deepest Passions

    07-27-2009

    wow! that is so beautiful! you are what i call a real poet! so perfectly done!

    fathi1943

    07/28/2009

    I feel flattered. You also have the artistic gift and feelings. I hope to read more for you. Please write with your spirit of the East.

    When power leads man towards arrogance, poetry reminds him of his limitations. When power narrows the area of man's concern, poetry reminds him of the richness and diversity of existence. When power corrupts, poetry cleanses.

    John F. Kennedy (1917-1963) Thirty-fifth President of the USA

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