IT IS ABOUT A POET AND ITS VERSE. A POETS CAN TALK MORE LOUDLY THAN ANY MOB. |
HOME TORTURE Her enchanting eyes, Her melody voice; Her hairs movement in the air- And dear full swing of hand- To make new sketch in the wind; Her play, for catching the butterflies Her tone in the sorrow voice; Quiver tweets in happiness Always new verse and call How you are happy at all? But that all was before us She don't want to go home, only rush She was tortured by own They want her to stay home tide And don't be stronger for get your right. 2014 SADDAM HUSEN THE POET AND ITS VERSE No legion or religion can hold my vision Any legislative can't cease my verse Born free I am a motion No language or nation can bind my fluctuation. I am petals of dear flowers I have fragrant of sweetness But I lived it for other For little happiness And for world peremptoriness Balm for Your Soul Every feeling is real It is new but effectively true Now track my every wreck This vital virtue could not control by any rescue. Feel my ultimate jealousy for your standing by others end whether he is your friend I just want a walk, hand in hand with you. You are unrestrictive elusive you are not here yet luring Fast stimulation for your curing Violent-nascent, hollow-shadow, hard to spend moments few. UNTITLED Let me meet you In Life's sorrows and joys all my nights and days With you - in every cheer and strife to live Life with you as my rising sun and dazzling moon You and I alone filling the void sharing one another's vision Head on your shoulder Palm in your hand I share my dreams no feasible fear for being departure upper from all earthly uncouth bonds let snatched all foes and ends wreck. |