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Tomas Ionescu Poem
Blossoms sprout in the heart,
the entrails of the start.
Now things woken with life,
for survival they strive.
At last the evils sicken,
life is never a given.
The battering of living,
for being it is hitting.
Alas, now they pass,
fall down to green grass.
It is leaving the heart,
the ending of a start.
Copyright © Tomas Ionescu | Year Posted 2023
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Tomas Ionescu Poem
Some believe when they die,
they really live.
And believe when they fall,
they really fly.
Others belive when they rise,
they really sink.
And belive when they breathe,
they really drown.
Where lies the truth?
Does wisdom soothe?
Copyright © Tomas Ionescu | Year Posted 2023
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Tomas Ionescu Poem
There is a plethora of sun in the west,
mornings cool I like the best.
Going to hike till my feet bleed,
then I the safety heed.
There are many beauties in the north,
I want to leave and go forth.
Eating is a luxury I dislike,
better feel like I starve.
In the south the Hills reside,
there I want to go and hide.
Get away from here for ever,
but that is a bitter endeavor.
Then in the east the sun lays,
on the water a beautiful haze.
Lay there till bleed out,
then I will wander about.
Copyright © Tomas Ionescu | Year Posted 2023
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Tomas Ionescu Poem
Many are down below,
looking up to my window.
They all shout in distress.
Calm, relax, don't stress.
Shouting my name,
signaling help.
Trying to tame,
what they cannot.
This is the end,
my last breath I you lend.
Now I leave you,
the window and the do.
Copyright © Tomas Ionescu | Year Posted 2023
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