He is a man always left on his solitude
with his might set, like a sharp sword.
His hands always exhausting pens,
with papers filled to the brim.
His heart gush and groan wide
with his head affirming, from side to side.
His words forces of wide thought
scheming words of all sought.
His dreams scanned in booklet,
this man rain all in droplet.
He exposes the secret of nature
and give details of all creature.
He mimics the ways of the philosophers
but not of vivid terms, it differs.
He write of many immortal shadow
setting transparency of emmence sorrow.
His mind fight with his desire,
his heart embellishing what he has acquire.
When he turned activist of the state
his works even the little hate.
His words read the heart of many
causing his plight to be plenty.
He was killed because of his poem.
He is a poet who died by his poem.
Love is a strong desire for something
When we first find love it was hard
To let it slip away because we are in love
We want to take it to the house top
Because we’ve been love by someone
Friday, February 18, 2011
Wednesday, February 16, 2011
BRING GREAT MIND TO YOU
Wow! finally you are here a place to source for any info. concerning about the living legend of our time how have made footprint in the sands of time
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