A Poem About Nothing But Love
A Poem About Nothing but Love
By: Tyner Twine
"I edited a few parts from my original poem.
As tribute to my first love's requiem.
Nevertheless, this simple soul song is the same,
Written all for love and not for fame.
A poem of love I wrote on hot summer day,
remembering the love that has, for so long, faded away."
Would someone care to explain
Why people write poems in a way
That adorns with jewels something so plain
That expresses emotions beyond the insane
I lift my quill and dwelt on the thought,
And realized the reflections I made and forgot...
There I lift my pen
THEN PAUSED and reflected:
How should I begin to write,
About lads and gals with love at first sight?
Though I have tried as hard as I might,
To close my eyes from love's delight,
He won me over without a fight,
Now all I see is love's pure light.
I wondered... Now I shall write:
Have I become some kind of fool
Who let Love ruin my poems and rules?
Who let Nostalgia come and play
With distant Beloved's memories on a working day?
Have I been foolish every night,
To think his arms are holding me tight,
To wish that he'll come home to stay,
That he'll make love to me every night and day
I think these thoughts and was appalled,
How | felt too warm and oh, so galled
In thinking that these thoughts might stay,
and be my ruin at the end of the day.
Love, oh love, is a cruel thing for fools if I might say,
Though it is delightful it has a price to pay.
Fool, fool, fool! With love as her tool... I am.
Beguiled and ruined.
Oh ~ why can't they just write about trees?
Or how honey flows and comes from bees?
Why can't they just write about the Sky?
See the clouds and the mist and the birds that fly?
Why can't they just write about life?
How calves are born and how they die?
How flowers bloom with the light of the moon,
How the sun rose up and set too soon?
Oh, a foolish poet's heart of clay,
Be molded with the warmth of fate's faint sway!
For life changed drastically above,
As the fool that I am
Writes a poem about nothing but love.
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