English Poetry

1.Man is really man when he doesn’t mimic
For he cannot find himself in another
Whatever he may be; strong or weak
He should covet his own for he carries gold
Gaining from achieved men both born and told,
Man is up to it, in himself and by being himself
To strike oil and not vie another’s endowments
Man is man if he lives within his means not on man
I am me, and never will be the other guy who does it great
I should do it my way for no one else does it better.
In a scramble to be the other guy, you squeeze yourself
And his performance remote-steers your emotions
For at times you feel inadequate and at others, jealous
Why subject thyself to self-pity, man is not man by other men
Even in the world to come, you will never be the other guy.
  By George Charisma 
2. You still can’t see though my poor disguise
Look beyond the fake smile
 And look deeper into these dull sad eyes
You will see every pain filled emotion
With blood stained stories I keep locked away
 In the pit of my stomach and the back of my mind
They begin to sway
 I survive my sadness behind my fake smile
Which I deceive you with and show you once in a while
My smile lies and it disguises my cries
 Which stay buried deep down inside
My false smile hides embarrassment that I have become so weak
By letting these roller coaster thoughts
Control my well being and leaving me with sad eyes
Only hidden when asleep
If you want to see my truths
 Just look into these eyes of sadness and woe
 Can you see past my fake smile?
My smile full of lies
The false being I have become
Behind my fake smiles are sad eyes
    by David Bull

3.Within the still of the sinister night,
and moon light bright,
when all have drifted so far into the deep realm of unconsciousness.
When heroic and vile knights, sub come to innocuous slumber,
She calls to me
“Lay thy feet upon thy sands”, “sit with me hand in hands”,
she whispers softly,
and crooned sweet sound of serene words,
like a poppet I leap to see my maiden
One who is defies that which is foul and unearthly
One who is mystical,
One who feigns my soul with sue-ding love,
With long radiant and dark night-hair,
Combed with a comb so rare
How am I resist a beauty unearthed?
For my mortal flesh longs for such ardent affection
We sat there on the beach,
In silence, with words spoken from no man’s tongue
But she spoke to me,
Bathing in the moon light as the water splashed my feet
The essence of love perfumed the night
And I found myself lost as such a sight
her beauty, her pulchritudinous appeal.
Her alluring azure eyes draws me to death of an irresistible kind.
I don’t know her name,
Or from where thy sweet maiden came,
Or if time will permit me to see her again,
What mystery does the sea holds?
A rare fish in the water of many
Calls to me deep within the night
As my body long for her
My mystery love
Taking me tonight

 by Ken Gulliver

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