Deep, Slow, Tears

Poetry in emotion

So. . . . Sometimes I feel your poetry just flows off your pen, More gesture than etiquet, Letters that try to shape Love Adore, Pain or distaste or spec events, Fine among your own circle... This is one of your public much better, In every sense:- then still, A mystique lies like a puzz without a clue, A common romance tool play?, True; but the clues or theme have, To appear at least between the lines, Hints fair to most readers since, Word play In public is all about communication, A verse that relays a saline river cause recent, Or eg eg eg and this would be I sense, First rate top class 5 star, An anchored due note of Love's despair, Even if it relates to, A beautiful sand-like sculpture admired, That was Always gonna be washed, Clear away by the next High Tide. I sense Your Talent and aim to aid, these lines can be easily erased and, dismissed into the ether tide, But I hope you sense my
Message, Mystery exists in every romance and a poet, plays and gives air to such sense, But to open Love or Hate secrets or sores, Your key has to make sense fit. Always test the type openly matches the purpose. If put out to read it has to carry, It's true clear intent even if unsaid. The avenue laid out homes in accurate, even where true meaning has many side rooms. Doubt has to be easily sensed. Always. Your true ability will shine thru and shines in the total volume of work bared here, just regularly your brightness falls on cloud or has a mist in play. And one or two liners have their place, but serve short talent if they appear dominant.