Poets do not die …

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Sublime verses escape the souls of poets

Traveling to the bottom of the heavens like balloons …

Suspended ceiling are glowing poetry Restless

Reflecting eyes in dewy meadows of emotions

 

In curvature of time , stars are harvested

Orchard imagination displayed in shop windows …

Pulsating veins the poison distilled secretly

Addiction fierce faith , labeled people dizzy

 

Open up pairs of ditches in the legends of destiny

Thousand leagues writing , scribbling words sound …

They are like little disheveled days nights

Filling us with dreams awakened in the morning

 

Golden memories in the parapets joys

Dilute as watercolors , the orbits of the moons …

Between North and South reach your fantasies

From west to east wings fly with simple nude

 

Roam free in the wrong tendencies River

And strike the hearts paced wildly …

With daggers bury small cold sores

Fanciful dreams… lost loves of the past

 

Are molded like clay in poems glow

And moor their boats on the tails of whales …

End up floating through solitudes Love

They get carried away by the currents of the tides

 

Walk to the sound of birds waking

And shake trees to fall nests pleasure …

Write in the light of the stars at the ends of the cliffs

Stepping scorpions in the deserts of crazy

 

The drops of nostalgia hit with hands on glass

The lighted windows of the thoughts …

Begging take shelter within the walls of grace

They nest in arrows stripped of feelings

 

That dump the oceans and forests sweep

And that turns off the sun without the moon rises with its moonlight …

Because poets do not die ! Live in certain phrases

And just fall asleep in your thinking …

 

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