How Many Ways
Were I as witty as Wilde
No doubt a better poet
Would I be and these words
I write would wind their way
Better around your heart:
Some men can be happy
With any woman as long
As they do not love them.
With you I found it easy
To love you and by happy.
How many ways
Can it be said
Still missin' you
Some men think women were made
To be loved and not understood.
Learnin' to understand you
Was the best part of lovin' you
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poem by MacGregor Tagliaferro
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Blazin' Love
Sylvia Plath said; 'I will be
the very best me that I
always want to be with you.'
That says it all about love, right?
To be with that someone who makes
one want to be a better person.
A Jack Nicholson character said,
'You make me want to be a better man.'
You made me want to be a better me.
Virginia Woolf said, 'If you do not
tell the truth about yourself
you cannot tell it about other people.'
That goes to the heart of what
I have always said about love;
you have to love yourself,
which inlcudes bein' honest with yourself,
before you can love another.
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poem by MacGregor Tagliaferro
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Halycon Days
Dear pretty muse, open your eyes,
How can I sleep when you lie near?
Were I with you all night I could,
From sleep be free and never need.
Alas, my dear, you are not near:
And sadly, I must lie alone.
Unless you join me, in my dreams
Then these days can go on and on
Halcyon days never endin'.
You shall find wherever you sail
Me all the while attendin'
To and lovin' you without fail
You, in infinite ways inspire
These words, this vision, this desire.
Come with me so that we may cling
To these days we cherish and sing.
For without this, without desire,
We will always want for love's fire.
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poem by MacGregor Tagliaferro
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The Lack Thereof
Amid the mystic fields of dreams
I wandered, and came on a grave.
Breathlessly still was all around
Yet breathin' with an easy heart;
And there beyond, in wooded grove,
Were visions, all so much the same,
That they became one. A girl drew near,
And on me gazed with wanderin' eye,
And would have passed, but that I called,
Clappin' my hands above my head,
‘My time is now! ' and I followed
After the beautiful spirit
And bade her stop and look at me.
And so I called her lovelier
Than any else, only because
She only then before me was.
And, while we stood and gazed, a change,
Diversely strange, was seen in her:
She became ever more and more
The one I loved before, ago;
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poem by MacGregor Tagliaferro
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