Love Masks Poem

Good poetry is written verse evoking thoughts and emotion. Life is poetry, making poetry all around us. You might have to overturn a few rocks to initially find it but eventually poetry can paint a recognizable beauty on everyone and everything we meet. Poetry is a trained eye so look around you.

If you have an aversion for the sappy, please disregard the following poem. I take my poetry both seriously and privately. Make no mistake about it, I enjoy watching a football game clutching a cold beer but I prefer vanquishing poetry to a private existence without witnesses. It goes without saying, my poetry has wanted to leave its dusty three-ring binder for years. Tonight I heed its call to be heard. So take flight lullabye lyrics and turtle doves for this is your curtain call. As I invoke the masses, this Blog entry will be considered either personal growth or red-faced foolishness. A word of extreme caution about my poetry style before reading, it sounds like Doctor Seuss after sucking the life out of a helium balloon.

LOVE MASKS Love can be a sole search futilely lasting forever. It can be a soul search, a beautiful endeavor. Love has roomed in any of many different places. It has bloomed in the faces of different races. For the lonely, it is relentlessly yearned. -the many masks of love. Unfortunately, like gold it's hard to fathom or find. The fortunate I'm told bump into love rather blind. To many, the true meaning of love is clear and crystallized. Too many times the gleaming confuses, even hypnotizes. Scrutiny might not fully reveal it. Mutiny its power and you won't truly feel it. -the many masks of love. Most people endear love without second-guessing. Best to adhere patience without ever pressing. Often it is professed, then commitment recanted. Others confess faking it and taking it for granted. Love can be born of understanding and zealous. Love can be burdened by possessiveness of the jealous. -the many masks of love. Love can involve diligent work much like a chore. Cowards dissolve its meaning, doubting what it is for. Occasionally, it shimmers bright with obtuse trying. Sometimes it's a glimmer in the dark then a recluse hiding. In bliss it is taken to heart without making a fuss. I regret once mistaken it, taking it for lust. -the many masks of love.

Joseph Tornatore 1998