Archive for beautiful


Posted in Poetry in Motion with tags , , , , on September 16, 2012 by heartcomplex

Tim S Poma
Inspiration can come from a friend
From softly spoken words
Or even ink from a pen
It can be sprayed on a canvas
And dotted with brush strokes
It can come from a strum
Or musician’s hitting high notes
Disguised as kind gesture or thought
Or even in an object that you have bought
But the inspiration lying here with in
It comes from the heart that’s where it all begins


Burn For Today

Posted in Love Poems, Poetry in Motion, Tim Pomatry with tags , , , , , on April 24, 2011 by heartcomplex

By Tim S Poma

Give me your brutally beautiful art
Or I will strip you down to one heart
Ill touch you in the place where we let out loves spark
It will be dark, because it’s hiding under brush like a meadow lark
Find the forgiveness you need to find my key hole
Plug your heart in and let my love take hold
My hand its big like the waves with in the sea
But if you can’t grasp that, your no bigger then infinity
Because you’re light it shines out like the diamonds in the ruff
Look to you heart and make yourself erupt
Spiritual battle is all we ever play
In this game we all dressed to kill in this masquerade
But in true love we just one parade
And it’s not sponsored by Macys for there floats will always fade
In love of life that we call a shared
We even dressed like a lion so calm and tame
Except for when they take his love away
And then we will rip threw the clouds and red tape of decay
And let our diamonds like hearts shine for tomorrow and burn for today


Posted in Poetry in Motion with tags , , , , , , , on April 24, 2011 by heartcomplex

By Tim S Poma

Feelings of inadequacy
Stares me dead in the face
As I tell my self you’re worth the wait
Spinning a wicked web in an artificial sin
Still waiting for the words that will tune us all back in.
As there is a twin that holds me hostage
Who wraps my mind up in chains of bondage
I wondered how long I could stand to be called a man
Even when everything’s going as wrong as it can
Can I help that I’m a handy helpless man
With tons of tools I bury in the sand
All of my talents buried so deep
I pick them up in a little pile of love Id love to keep
And throw the rest to sea
And then you see what is truly left of me
A felling of inadequacy.