Wrote it since I went trrough certain situations. But all is good now.
Four types of lovers,
That may exist,
No matter what,
The situation is.
Lover one, may he be called,
As he is the perfect lover,
For he is the most loved,
The most luckiest,
And a tower of love,
This, why do I say?
For, once upon a time,
There lived a young man,
Who fell crazily in love,
With a beautiful young lady,
And this young lady,
Was equally crazy,
Over the young man,
Nothing could tare them apart,
For they were,
Meant for each other,
And so they lived,
Happily ever after.
Lover two, may he be called,
As he too, is a wonderful lover,
And so is he loved,
As a lover to a lover,
But not, would I say the luckiest,
But, would I say the happiest,
For he too is similar to lover one,
But the only divider would be,
He is gay.
Lover three, may he be called,
As he is the player,
For he knows only but to play,
For he knows not to love,
He is the man on the run,
After he's done with catch one,
Does he move on to catch two,
And so on and so forth,
Does he go,
For this is his pleasure.
Lover four, may he be called,
Woe unto him, that is he,
For him, you would never wish to be,
For woe and sorrow overflows him,
Like a river that never runs dry,
For he is the ultimate sacrifice,
For all lovers,
In sorrow and pain does he live,
His unworthy and wasteful life,
This why do I say?
For, once upon a time,
There lived a man,
Who fell in love with a young lady,
But knew not how,
To express his feelings,
To the young lady,
So lost his love,
And sadly moved on in life.
Twos later a second love,
He loved more than his first,
All he did was love her,
And all he was cursed was,
Not to be loved,
But give up not did he,
So for the first time did he,
Express his love to the young lady,
That in return,
Didn't seem to like him,
And so the curse lived on.
Still after knowing,
That the pretty lady,
Had no interest for him,
Did he love her more and more,
But was loved in return,
Only in his dreams.
Could not bare the pain,
That tore him apart,
Day by day,
So thought himself,
To end his life,
And live in his dreams,
For happiness did he find there,
So end it did he,
And finally found,
His happiness,
That long lasted.
So ends the story,
Of the four lovers,
There ever was,
End ever will be.
Poetry by Angelo
Read 915 times
Written on 2005-06-29 at 09:17
Tags Anxiety
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The Four Lovers
There always are,Four types of lovers,
That may exist,
No matter what,
The situation is.
Lover one, may he be called,
As he is the perfect lover,
For he is the most loved,
The most luckiest,
And a tower of love,
This, why do I say?
For, once upon a time,
There lived a young man,
Who fell crazily in love,
With a beautiful young lady,
And this young lady,
Was equally crazy,
Over the young man,
Nothing could tare them apart,
For they were,
Meant for each other,
And so they lived,
Happily ever after.
Lover two, may he be called,
As he too, is a wonderful lover,
And so is he loved,
As a lover to a lover,
But not, would I say the luckiest,
But, would I say the happiest,
For he too is similar to lover one,
But the only divider would be,
He is gay.
Lover three, may he be called,
As he is the player,
For he knows only but to play,
For he knows not to love,
He is the man on the run,
After he's done with catch one,
Does he move on to catch two,
And so on and so forth,
Does he go,
For this is his pleasure.
Lover four, may he be called,
Woe unto him, that is he,
For him, you would never wish to be,
For woe and sorrow overflows him,
Like a river that never runs dry,
For he is the ultimate sacrifice,
For all lovers,
In sorrow and pain does he live,
His unworthy and wasteful life,
This why do I say?
For, once upon a time,
There lived a man,
Who fell in love with a young lady,
But knew not how,
To express his feelings,
To the young lady,
So lost his love,
And sadly moved on in life.
Twos later a second love,
He loved more than his first,
All he did was love her,
And all he was cursed was,
Not to be loved,
But give up not did he,
So for the first time did he,
Express his love to the young lady,
That in return,
Didn't seem to like him,
And so the curse lived on.
Still after knowing,
That the pretty lady,
Had no interest for him,
Did he love her more and more,
But was loved in return,
Only in his dreams.
Could not bare the pain,
That tore him apart,
Day by day,
So thought himself,
To end his life,
And live in his dreams,
For happiness did he find there,
So end it did he,
And finally found,
His happiness,
That long lasted.
So ends the story,
Of the four lovers,
There ever was,
End ever will be.
Poetry by Angelo
Read 915 times
Written on 2005-06-29 at 09:17
Tags Anxiety
Save as a bookmark (requires login) Write a comment (requires login) Send as email (requires login) Print text|
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