Showing posts with label corps. Show all posts
Showing posts with label corps. Show all posts
.jpg "Ben Heine Torso in forest - 2014")
Tender Flower
of Mankind
.
© 2009 - Ben Heine
A poem by Peter S. Quinn
Oh love is so sweetly during,
Each honey flower bud
Like spring in the morning
That has its seeds florid
To bring in freshly fragrance
Like feelings in to the day
Of the instant abundance
That comes in its fair play
Oh love of every devotee
That is revived like spring
When blossoms come to be
Like heart in love to sing
When new daybreak is in light
To give its clearest vision
For a day to come in bright
With all its shade precision
Oh love that arrives and grows
With verve touches to give
That never again goes
If it's with roots that live
Like carnations in posy
Of pinkish whitish and red
The days of sweet love rosy
Not to go pale in spring's bed
of Mankind
.
© 2009 - Ben Heine.
Oh LoveA poem by Peter S. Quinn
Oh love is so sweetly during,
Each honey flower bud
Like spring in the morning
That has its seeds florid
To bring in freshly fragrance
Like feelings in to the day
Of the instant abundance
That comes in its fair play
Oh love of every devotee
That is revived like spring
When blossoms come to be
Like heart in love to sing
When new daybreak is in light
To give its clearest vision
For a day to come in bright
With all its shade precision
Oh love that arrives and grows
With verve touches to give
That never again goes
If it's with roots that live
Like carnations in posy
Of pinkish whitish and red
The days of sweet love rosy
Not to go pale in spring's bed
.
The Colours
of Her Soul
.
of Her Soul
.
.
Something
so Exotic
A poem by Peter S. Quinn
You are the wondrous ways
And everything within it
To you my feelings play
Wherever it seems fit
Today is not tomorrow
And nothing is the same
Each way to ways borrow
It is our lives game
Something so exotic
To places a moment on
A world full of anecdotic
Until the years are gone
Nights are little wild
Into my life today
They used to be so mild
But now their full of play
You are my woman now
We need to be two
Why we managed and how
I haven't got a clue
But everything has turned
And makes now more sense
Old bridges have been burned
And brought away the tense
You are the wondrous ways
And everything within it
To you my feelings play
Wherever it seems fit
We have no way to know
What makes a story good
It's quite like yes and no
What's done and what should...
so Exotic
A poem by Peter S. Quinn
You are the wondrous ways
And everything within it
To you my feelings play
Wherever it seems fit
Today is not tomorrow
And nothing is the same
Each way to ways borrow
It is our lives game
Something so exotic
To places a moment on
A world full of anecdotic
Until the years are gone
Nights are little wild
Into my life today
They used to be so mild
But now their full of play
You are my woman now
We need to be two
Why we managed and how
I haven't got a clue
But everything has turned
And makes now more sense
Old bridges have been burned
And brought away the tense
You are the wondrous ways
And everything within it
To you my feelings play
Wherever it seems fit
We have no way to know
What makes a story good
It's quite like yes and no
What's done and what should...
.
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