News Topic:Poetry

"May I recall the reveries The graveyard of memories About to laden by soil slumberous But denied by their stubbornness," writes the poet.

"Why I love world, that'll finish one day? Why I collect wealth, that'll slip away All, made of clay, and got mixed in it That's the truth, I should know," writes the poet.

"The grievances, I had sought The heart still twirling around dream. Do healers possess such a herb? I could heal wounds of broken heart," writes the poet.

"Imaginations, as lethal as poison, I know Those are just my mind's creation In their absence, is, but life a throw," writes the poet.

"Of being the sign of eccentricity, Their lunacy could be the reason The one way path of mind, putting Them in the knowledge prison," writes the poet.

"The time shall come, there The noble gathering, once The unfamed will be crowned, By efforts of wooden logs, Ready to invade empire of Venom," writes the poet.

"English, the tongue is not to me my father's descent, Yet I admire it the most, worship it the most," writes the poet.

"Human, in present day, In life after death, he doesn't believe, As if he's never gonna be His prey, To this foreign-land, he'll deceive," writes the poet.