Love Poems About Interchanging Poetry or Interchanging Poetry Love Poems

Interchanging Poetry love poems and/or love poems about Interchanging Poetry. Read, share, and enjoy these Interchanging Poetry love poems! Also, try our sister website's powerful search engine for poems.

Poem Details | by Maurice Yvonne |
Categories: best friend, cute love, desire, funny love, lost love, love, love hurts, lust,

I Think Of You - An Alternative Universe - 6


From childhood it was a world of two...you and I...
I leaned lightly, leisurely against your heart and you let me in.

We were five I use to draw you rose scented flowers
using an ordinary led pencilYouth! The world was ours.

Seven!  I know that was the first time I saw you blush.
I whispered a song for you so no one else would hear.

Oh when we were nine! The potato sack race I entered with Lisa.
 You gave me that lookOh that look!  And you  left without a word.

At eleven years old I had my "magic wink""A Magic Wink" you'd
say sarcastically How it made you giggle to make fun of it.

It was at thirteen we decided to burn the gym floor with our moves.
Our first dance You stole my breathEmptied the room of oxygen.

Fifteen...we started running and my God we ran and ran...
our shoe prints dug into the concreteIt was then I knewForever.

Then suddenly at seventeen in the slip of time you left, dissapeared.
Stunned! I slept through the next two years even in the full light of day.

At nineteen I swam an endless pool but even the chlorine couldn't
clear your scent from my memory as my spirit filled out hard as steel.

Was it on my twenty first birthday you showed up? You showed up
 tried to hug me helloSilent! Cold! I turned and walked away.

Was I still twenty one when I apologized for that dayWhen you asked 
for an explanationI recited false words but we both knewHurt for hurt.

Then at twenty five we still had issues to work outI asked you bluntly 
why you cut me loose in the prime of our youthYou my first and only.

I asked the question that burned in my gutWithout words your eyes spoke. 
You were still in love with meThere was only meI your first and only.

Finally our lips met to never part againLeft to wonder why, I accept our 
lives without an answerMy love was thatWhy would I have let you go?

Older than old nowOne last time you leaveDeath makes this choice. 
Alone again I remember how I never knew why once you left.

Not everything  is explained or understood,
like music by a one arm man playing a violin.

I sport my blank stareNaked is the body of life.
Mystery sings blind the song of the lark!

and I...

i think of you.



March 29 2015
Armand





Poem Details | by Carole Duet |
Categories: abuse, conflict, jealousy, love, lust, magic, poetry,

Poetry Soap

It’s almost time and I must run to watch/read Poetry Soap for fun. It comes on every day at this time and I don’t want to miss a single rhyme. Some are about a long-lost lover written by a secret poet undercover. Some are about jealousy and some about trust with rhyming lines filled with lust. Competition is part of their game with bards and musicians hiding their name. They covet a prize and praise galore laid at their feet and virtual door. But when Poet A falls in love with Poet B you can bet there’ll be flaming words from Poet C. Or when Poet D gets Poem of the Day Poet E will have something to say. Sometimes it’s fun to read the rhymes of hate whenever I can’t sleep and stay up late. Battles of wits, Poets who have fits, Some who sing, Some who sting. Magical flights to lands of old written with passion and pens of gold. But it’s the humble ones I adore whose words are pure, their egos left at the door. Each episode an unending story with poets and their pets seeking glory. It’s addicting like dope. I don’t want to miss today’s episode of Poetry Soap. By: Carole O’Terry Duet Copyright: 9/26/2017 “All Rights Reserved”


Poem Details | by Daniel Turner |
Categories: appreciation, love, poetry,

Caress My Soul Sweet Poet

Love's tend'rest touch, your gentle words reveal
Caress my soulsweet poet, with your verse
Write dulcet lullabies which make me feel
Secure, like infants held at breast to nurse

Turn tears of sadness into peaceful streams
Make whispered breezes whisk my strife away
Put passion in my fantasized daydreams
Paint troubles in to flowery bouquets

And even though I know they're not for me
I steal your soothing love just like a thief
This load I carry lightens suddenly
Because my broken heart has found relief

Your words are like a song, please sing to me
Sweet poet, how I love your poetry



   an original poem by Daniel Turner

 


Poem Details | by Justin Bordner |
Categories: beauty, creation, desire, love, poetry,

Poetry Pillar

When Light needed a body to behold, and color to kiss,
as Darkness dreamnt to die in the dawn of depth,
when Soul lustered to lust for learning, and being learned,
as blood bespoke to bones for building a star of flesh,
when Time needed the umbrage of it's ubiquity to be understood,
the moment texture tempted touch to tease with a thousand sensations,
when laws of love sought a language to express the extremes of it's lips,
as romance rampaged through the ravishings of famished hearts,
when the seduction of sorrow made heros of loving men and women,

When Justice appealed to the instincts of intent for inscriptions of innocence,
as bravery found battle in basic questions of survival and conquest,
when war demanded a metaphor in the terror of it's diligent destruction,
as Faith found resolve in seconds small along with giant gestures,
Death singing melancholoy for sympathy and Life haughty upon it's horizon,
when Angels chose to wear albatross of gold to feel the rue of rogues,
as the most perfect woman ambushed the ideals of rumored beauty,
when God wanted imagination to create immaculate reality
Poetry began, born in the instant of forever Art,
because, the only promise of a Poet, is Passion -

Dedicated to Poetry...J.A.B.


Poem Details | by Sandra Haight |
Categories: poetry, poets, words,

For the Love of Poetry


For love of poetry, spellbound am I
by force, that takes me to the land of words.
Beyond control, this power has its way
that leads me to uncover heart and soul.

This overwhelming power captures me;
like an addiction, I consume fine words
for them to shape the thoughts within my mind;
create great imagery that can be read.

And only fellow poets know this pain
of finding special words to paint a theme.
This search for us becomes a magic hunt
of hide and seek to capture them like prey.

Consuming is this poet’s gift of pen;
the task can be a tiresome marathon
of hours or days, and yet, if lucky can
flow out in minutes on the first clean page.

This love of writing poetry runs deep;
an inner urge that cannot be dispelled;
as captor, captive both, the poet’s goal…
to find some balance in completed works.


Sandra MHaight

~10 Place~
Premiere Contest: Mania
Sponsor: Lewis Raynes
Judged: 11/07/2017

~1st Place~
Contest: What Inspires You To Write Poetry
Sponsor: Julie Rodeheaver
Judged: 09/05/2017

~2nd Place~
Premiere Contest: Blank Verse
Sponsor: Janice Canerdy
Judged: 05/20/2017

~1st Place~
Contest: For the Love of Poetry
Sponsor: John Lawless
Judged: 04/10/2016

~2nd Place~
Contest: New Or Old 3
Sponsor: Eve Roper
Judged: 08/01/2016

Blank Verse: Poetry, distinguished by having a regular meter, but no rhymeThe meter most commonly used with blank verse is iambic pentameter.





Poem Details | by Sandip Goswami |
Categories: life, love, philosophy,

LIFE

I asked to my father
Baba, What is life ?
He politely said to me, " Life is Duty "

I asked to my mother
Maa, What is life ?
She said to me with smile, " Life is Responsibility "

I asked to my teacher
Sir, What is life ?
He said to me with love, " Life is Education "

I asked to my spiritual master
Gurujee, What is life ?
He said to me with confidence, " Life is Devotion "

Today my son who reads in class nine
Asked me
Babai, What is life ?
I have said to him, " Dear, You are my life "

SANDIP GOSWAMI, INDIA


( Father means BABA, BABAI and Mother means MAA in Bengali language  Gurujjee means spiritual master in Indian society ) 


Poem Details | by Raul Moreno |
Categories: love

Love Poetry

If only for a moment,
I could swoop you away.
I’d plan an entire night,
Easing the stress of the day.

Fresh cut roses in a vase,
And a candle lit dinner.
My mind races with thoughts,
And girl, you’re the winner.

Delve into this ecstasy,
For my love’s not a mirage.
After your lovely dinner,
I’d give you a massage.

Take the load off your feet,
And let my fingers flow.
Lets just sail away,
To wherever this may go.

I want to see you chill,
And clear out your head.
Relaxing with no worries,
As the best lies ahead.

With a cluster of grapes,
And a little red wine.
A hint of soft music,
For you to unwind.

Releasing your tension,
I like to see you smiling.
And the layers of fun,
Are just now compiling.

A late walk on the beach,
Unforgettable memories on sand.
I’d be your noble servant,
Every wish at your command.

If you need to get away,
Come spend an evening with me.
Our action’s would write a book,
Of the greatest love poetry.


Poem Details | by CayCay Jennings |
Categories: poetry, writing, , romantic love,

Poem Ingredients

Many ingredients bake writing inspiration This recipe combines a stirring sensation: Heaps of desires never realized as marinated in teary sore eyes; Quantities of wide open spaces caramelized by nature’s appeal; Ageless genuine emotional traces sifted thru heart rendered graces; Equal parts family and romantic love as roasted within, without and above; Measured creamed ideals of peace with blanched pain and battle grease; Diced wishes braised with thrill bearing aromas of tangy heat or chill; Slices of awe from a glorious tree breaded with traits strong and free; I do not forget sour spices of greed dusted with mankind’s violent seed; A mix of fears dredged in anxiety with stress jelled in complexity; and, lastly faith garnished spirit grown in a soul conscious thicket. If able, I mix love with ingredients above before sampling my recipe once warmed up. If savory, I serve it in Soup’s poetry cup.
..CayCay Jennings January 20, 2017


Poem Details | by July Morning |
Categories: love, poetry, , cute,

Poetry, The Language Of Love

Lyric of Love

The song he yearned to sing her wouldn't play,
yet deep within his heart a fire burned.
Such beauty of expression held at bay
for fear his feeble efforts might be spurned.

To love someone with all one's heart and soul
reflects an innate need that God has sown;
ingrained into our psyche with one goal- 
to find a gem to cherish as our own.

So with his pen in hand he scribbled verse-
poetic words that rose from deep within.
To his surprise he spewed a universe
of lovesick rhymes; her heart he'd surely win.

It's said a poet's muse hails from above,
that poetry's the language we call love 


*Bonus poem - Poetic love viewed from a different angle

Katie Lynn

The little girl with burns stood all alone-
an orphan child, about the age of nine.
And in her eyes the light that once had shown
seemed gone forever, never more to shine.

With hearts as big as mountains they arrived-
each little one so cute and quick to please.
They had to pick just one and so they strived
to carefully adopt with expertise.

To everyone's surprise they chose the waif 
named Katie Lynn, whose eyes were topaz blue.
She ran into their loving arms so safe,
the spark of life within her born anew.

She thanked her God that she had been the one,
then sang a song of praise under the sun.

















Poem Details | by James Kelley |
Categories: emotions, immigration, inspiration, language, life, love, uplifting,

Language Barrier

I couldn’t understand the language she spoke,

at least not all of it,

but the emotion pouring past her lips, 

the tears in her eyes, her clenched and shaking fists

enunciated more clearly,

than any piece of English Poetry I had ever read,

and grabbed me, held me still.

                   …In that moment, her soul was in my arms.

In that finite, tender breath of our lives,

she was my mother, my best friend…

but I could not console her

I didn’t have the words;

and my heart sank into the 

concrete between us,

wet with the pain of God’s rain

and her tears

                  …Were my tears

So, I simply opened my palms

toward her crouched form and 

spoke the only words I could 

fathom, that would be accepted

by a stranger on a dangerous street

"I am sorry, It will be okayGod will bless you."

I knew she did not understand…

"Lo siento" 

                  “que va a estar bien”    

                            “Dios te bendecira’ “ 

the words were as messy as the overturned

duffle bag at her feet…and fumbled, slowly

from my lips, as my knees hit the street.

Two strangers, cried in the rain,

knowing nothing of each other’s suffering,

and yet we shared the weight,

together, for those few moments;

the barrier of language was broken.

Love spoke for us 

-James Kelley 2014, All rights reserved.

…Love transcends any language

               


Poem Details | by CHRISDAD KOJO ARTHUR |
Categories: art, beauty, emotions, humor, i love you, love, poetry,

SPEECHLESS SPOKEN WORD ARTISTE

SPEECHLESS SPOKEN WORD ARTISTE

So if my vocal folds can’t collaborate to produce sounds to communicate loudly to your beautiful mind that I have an endless mission of loving you, can’t there be any mere articulation in my vocal tract to do that? What are my tongue, lips, alveolar ridge, hard palate and velum doing? I never knew that emotions could shut my speech tractHow I wish my speech tract could connect to my heart, so that I can give you a cord of love inserted into my heart, for you to put it into your ears and listen to the words my heart says because I am speechlessI had it in my mind to tell you that you are beautiful, eloquent, and charmingWhen I drew nigh, I decided to start with the word ‘lady’ to show some decorousnessBut I realized my lungs couldn’t even initiate the airstream for my glottis to either widen or narrow to cause my vocal tract to produce the voiceless and voiced sounds in the two syllable word, let alone the nineShould I comply with those who say action speaks louder than words, so that I can gesture for you to get the feelings better? I thought I was one who could speak like a parrot, but I am now slides before you like carrotsBut what could make a spoken word artiste speechless apart from the abnormal? OK! Let’s try establishing causalityThe moment I saw you, you blinked your eyes, so probably that muted meSo if you could do that again, it may set me freeDon’t wait for me to tell you that you can cause distractionDon’t go near a podium mounted by a performer, lest, you will cause distractionBecause that image you carry isn’t what you thinkNot even a mermaid, more than strangePlease set me free because you are gradually becoming ‘head of Medusa ‘ , rays from your eyes are communicating with mine and making me motionless like lot’s wife is Sodom and GomorrahI came out of volition but it is now at your discretion to let me go, so please take off your eyes and set me free.

Tension within me had converted into electrical energy and burnt my speech tractSo what I am going through is beyond dumbFrom a distance, I was in haste to meet you, but the moment I set my eyes on you, as though there were a speed rump- I started moving like a tortoiseWhat broke the camel’s back was when your eyelids became a canon camera and gave me flash, I became staticI wonder why I am speechlessI wonder why I am speechlessBecause I am this man who can stand before a lady and produce lyrics more than ‘sarkology’ album, so I wonder why I am speechlessI could make a lady swim deeper in the pool of sweet words, so I wonder why I am speechlessMovement of my negative lips could attract positive ladies, so I wonder why I am speechlessPerhaps we are both negatives, so we repelHow I wish my vocal folds will touch along their edges from my thyroid and open slightly at my arytenoids to create a creaky sound like ‘huuh’ for you at least get the air of love, but none is workingI have thin vocal folds that can produce nice sounds like the lead guitar, so I wonder why I can’t even stammerMy phonetics is not working, let alone deploy my syntax for you to use your morphology in breaking down the words to achieve semantics How unfortunate it is that my speech tract couldn’t let out the words my mind has been saying since the beginning of this piece.

 


Poem Details | by Chris Boskovski |
Categories: august, beautiful, beauty, care, city, dark, dream, farewell, first love, for her, friend, friendship, girl, girlfriend, how i feel, i love you, lost, night, poems, poetry, summer,

I dreamed a dream of You

Yesterday I dreamed a dream,
that had no end.
You in your white gown, and long, black hair flowing.
You were calling my name.
I heard you, but I couldn't reach you!

And when I say your soul was tainted.
You went out in the night life.
You dressed in your black, evening ball gown.
You danced till the Red Sun came out, over the horizon.

You smiled at me.
A flame in my heart burned red hot!
My knees and hands shook with nerves;
Nerves of love and joy.
I blew you a kiss,
but you turned away!
Oh, please don't turn away from me,
for I would die, if it happened again!

Your beautiful and golden heart showed me the truth.
The truth that every gentleman wants to hear.
I've seen you walk the streets,
in the blue dawn of August.
As I followed you, you stopped and looked at me.
You smiled so beautifully, and my heart fluttered into oblivion!

You walked with your friends and I went my way.
I couldn't find a single trace of you that day.
I cried out "Why did I leave her like this?!"
I looked for you, all over the courtyards and town squares!
Yet no sight of your beauty.
..No sight of your golden heart, that I hold so dear to mine.
Where did you go?
Why did you leave?
Why did I leave..that is the question!

I should have stayed by your side,
till the ends of time.

Yet I had left.
Why...?

One gloomy and parish midnight.
I came along a road,
and soon found myself in front of a wayward cafe.
Smiling faces all around me.
I spotted a beautiful face that outstood all the other faces around me.
It was yours.

Your face brought me to sanity and I went over too you!
You spotted me and tried to run!
I caught you in the dirty hallway and pulled you in.

Our eyes met and I fell in love once again.
Sanity re-entered my mind, body and soul.
I kissed you and you kissed back.
You held my hand, and we left the cafe and walked down the street.

The street was gloomy, yet we together brightened the dark street.
We went back to the lit up city streets, of the lands filled with smiling faces,
and we fell in love and slept together.

You lay there in my restless arms and I gave you a sweet kiss,
upon your sweet and soft head.
Your dark hair was sweet smelling and felt of silk.
I closed my eyes and fell asleep with you,
there in my arms and we dreamed together
till the morning came and woke me up,
and took you away from my weak and weary arms.

I dreamed a dream of you.


Poem Details | by Russell Sivey |
Categories: love, poetry,

Love in Poetry

How do I write my love in poetry? Spin it around a needle’s company I succumb to the wishes that’s displayed Straight into my heart, a bed that is made Words that focus not on the worldly things Making love formed by surely everything Almost all my chimed poetry is filled Tinging of the bells on my window sill My poems flow from my pen to your head Allowing even the strange come to bed Obstinate people combined with some change Must read of my love, they will rearrange My lovely other, sits upon the throne Love ties us as one, prepares what is known Russell Sivey


Poem Details | by Mustapha Mohammed |
Categories: love,

Love

Love is like a fire
It often expires
A comfort that revives
Your tender soul alive.

A blind joy soaring
The loveless signs ignoring
It rises high with freedom's grace
To spring a blush upon your face.

Love is sweet like antique wine  
It breaks the fetters of loveless mind.
Love is loving all the time
Love is a spirit unconfined.

Love is a constant kindness
A joyful untamed madness.
Love jealous not
Or is a selfish glut.


Love is a divine quality
Expressed in purity!


Poem Details | by Monique McDowell |
Categories: fantasy, imagination, love, passion, upliftingwords, love, poetry, poets,

When Poets Make Love

My dear poet- 
I am forever grateful to you
For allowing my body
To be your page 

Letting your words 
Ascend on my temple
And descend 
On my feet

How long will I thank God 
For giving me you
As our passionate and artistic sessions
Gracefully formed poetry in motion

Lord knows 
My body yearned 
And needed the eloquence 
Your poetry provided 

Our poetry combined 
Gave birth to volcanic verses 
And flood-like rushes 
Of the most liberated conversation

My poet laureate
Thank you for allowing 
Your art to transcend 
Into poetic actions

Your ability to allow 
Your love to flow 
Like a pen on paper
Amazes me

When poets make love 
Sacred books 
Unlock their meanings 
And the majestic powers of words 
Fill the universe 
With marvelous expressions 

Our collaborated efforts 
Awakened the most powerful of poets 
Who long ago fell asleep
Happily summoned with the stars 
To congratulate our poetic bliss 

When we made love 
Our poetry was forever 
Imprinted in the hearts 
of all poets 
past, present, and yet to come


-Written and dedicated to a very dear poet (R.C.) 

© Monique McDowell 2008  All rights Reserved


Poem Details | by Doug Vinson |
Categories: love,

Love is Blind

Our fellow travelers,
What measure of trust for them?
The moment's imperfections are easily, even instinctively overlooked -
We risk for their benefit, sacrifice for their good.

Minutes stretched, the holy person spoke to all comers
As I heard love's woman,
Hanging on the pierced and tattooed man.
What did she see, he was fractional to me;
Her freely-given look demanded no return,
Love's area of the mind spreading over others.
Was it that he'd only hit her once?

The sightless mother's fingers over the face of her child
Tenderly traced that juncture of skin and hour,
Acquiring an instant in time.


Poem Details | by farah chamma |
Categories: love, passion, poetry,

Like a Poet Would Do

Let me love you like a poet would do.
Let me bite on the lid of my pen, thinking of you.
Let me write you down on pieces of paper and scribble you 
down on the back of notebooks.

Let me make sonnets to you and of you and fill your neck with haikus.
Let me translate you into polyglot texts and use dictionaries to decipher you
Let me spill black coffee on my verses of you and delight
in every bittersweet thought of you.
 
Let me use metaphors to transform you 
into a mockingbird or a blanket or  a fresh morning dew.
Let me love you, so theatrically, so dramatically, let me
be the moron of all the oxymorons I use to describe you.
Let me engage in a long soliloquy trying to fathom you 
and then weep helplessly, existentially like Hamlet would do.

Let me love you like a poet would do.
Let me love you with so much further ado.
Let me lose my senses and declaim my poetry to you,
and then lose myself in a jazz-like catharsis, singing to you
Let me implode and explode into a million little words, 
and a million little worlds loving you,
until I no longer am the poet.


Poem Details | by Sandra Haight |
Categories: love, poetry, stress, words, writing,

Bittersweet

So bittersweet is this creative art of writing thoughts through words of poetry. So many say how peaceful is my heart that it can shape a verse that's part of me. They never see the bitter times of stress my mind goes through for every perfect word: the hunting down of them to bring success, so thoughts within my heart can then be heard. But when I reach the mountaintop, complete a gem that tells my mind it met the goal, the stress dissolves into a joy so sweet, and peace envelopes me, my heart and soul. Sandra MHaight ~2nd Place~ Contest: Bittersweet Sponsor: Kevin Shaw Judged: 09/11/2017


Poem Details | by Robert Ronnow |
Categories: bird, humor, insect, love, men, poetry, wine,

Can poetry matter

In the debate between accessible and difficult poems
Poets' poems and poems for people
Only the single poem and private reader matter

Both kinds and anything between can matter or not
Solid or made of air, a vase or heavy clay ashtray
One word repeated or many like a lei

An acquired taste, like wine, and like wine
Not sustenance, yet men die with their miseries
Uncut without it, news and mere matter

I advise everyone to keep a personal anthology of poems that matter
Or notPerhaps it should be novelsStones, insect wings,
Feathers, Birds you've seen, People loved.






Poem Details | by Mark Anthony Cotterman |
Categories: art, love,

poetry is

Poetry is white lights falling upon rainbows and snow
Casual exchanges blinked upon a shared pillow
Lip prints etched inside an antiquated photograph
The obligatory holding of hands as a lost-craft

Poetry is the scent of morning kisses
Words that blossom, an arrow that misses
Umbrellas unopened on a drizzling day
A trail of lovers unable to find their way

Poetry is an evening sparrow chasing the moon
Two silhouettes cascading into a spoon
Roses blown from a closed casket
The loneliness of waiting for her to ask-it

Poetry is the answer to what if and why
Tissues capturing the tears but not the cry
Rubies polishing a heart to an imperfect shine
The undefined likeness of I, Me and Mine
 


Poem Details | by Jimmy Anderson |
Categories: passionlove,

One Hundred percent Love ( A Collaboration w/ S.K.A.T. Poetry)

“Pretty lady”, let me love you, take you places you’ve never been
All the pain you’ve gone through, I’ll make sure it don’t happen again
I promise to always comfort you, your burdens I will bear
There’s nothing I wouldn’t do to prove to you I truly care!
As long as there’s a sky, and those stars continue to shine above
You will always see it in my eye what I feel for you is 100% love!


"Sexy Man," you are what I want plus more
Your comfort mopped my tears right off the floor
I love the way you caress and touch me
Arousing the inner beauty for all to see
My world you conquered when push came to shove
I give you my thoughts, my emotions, my lust, and my "100% love."


Poem Details | by Fiona Callaghan |
Categories: childhood, first love,

Dear Victor

Dear Victor

The day you walked in I was just ten years old and for the first time I felt the gentle butterfly flutters of a young hearts innocent attraction
I wasn't the only oneWith your floppy golden hair and aqua blue eyes your arrival caused quite a stir and class distraction
Vivacious, popular among boys and girls alike, open in a way we weren’t used to
Your candour brought forth such delightful laughter and certainly more than the odd blush from me! 
Many a lesson trying not to gaze in your direction
My one and only lashing of the belt for tracing a handwriting exercise in my haste to escape the classroom to join you in the afternoon sunshine
The teacher having left the door tantalisingly ajar so that those still inside were tormented by the sight of shirt tails flying in the breeze and the sweet smell of freshly mown grass
The valentine card I sent (well, had someone sneak onto your chair!) had pride of place, hidden under your pillow at homeYour older sister taking me to show it there, both of us giggling and shushing each other as we went
Any mortification at being unmasked as the sender lost in the sheer giddiness of this sudden turn of events
Never boyfriend and girlfriend, too young for thatWe stole playful kisses during postman’s knock at parties (somehow it was always you who came knocking) and when just a little older, we danced all the slow songs together
New school, new classes, new facesNo falling out, just a natural drifting away
I still liked to catch a glimpse of you amid the throng in the corridor just to know you were okayMy day made if I caught a smile.
Though no longer close, the news you were leaving left me sad and a with quiet sense of lossI never got to say goodbye.
Every year I wished you a happy birthday in my heart - mine and yours being only two days apart.
A chance meeting, an acquaintance not seen since school, tossed me a casual remark - had I heard? Scant details barely registeringNo? Really? I mimicked their casual tone.
Walked away angry, reeling, such tragic news imparted with such lack of feeling
No tears were shed for youHow could they, it wasn’t real, couldn’t be trueJust malicious gossip that had somehow filtered through.
Twenty years on, another chance encounter, this one moss edged and worn
No longer able to deny the truth there etched in stoneFinally the tears flow
I’ll never know what truly unimaginable pain caused you to take your own life nor, selfishly, do I want toI only know that the torture of vicious bullies led to a young life being snatched away.
Forever dear VictorI’ll treasure always my sweet memories of you.


In memory of 
Victor Wladysiuk
9th October 1975 - 10th October 1991

 


Poem Details | by Paloma P |
Categories: desire, dream, love, moon, romantic, sea, sun,

Surrendered Dreaming

I knew you long before
    pursuit's intention shone,
felt you in sun's fiery warmth
       & shooting star surrender,
heard your voice on soft
  burbled whispers of sweet zephyrs
    and nectar'd songs of hummingbirds,
saw your depths of magnificence
        in sapphire ocean tides
     cresting 'neath effulgent moons
savoring breaths of crystalline
   snowflakes on crisp sea air,
I knew strength in your convictions    
   for it braved every fantasy's illusion
     acquiesced 'tween dulcet desires,
whilst the strong presence of your charms
     envelop'd every night's dreaming


Poem Details | by Chris Green |
Categories: love, poetry,

Forever again


I stood in the corner with stars in my eyes, such magical thoughts on display A poetic verse coming as no surprise, It's funny the things I might say While counting each petal I pulled from a rose and leaving the mess far behind I reached to the heavens, the tip of my toes for something that fell from my mind With sparkles and sprinkles in colors so bright to carry the less of the load So tied up in knots that were pulled ever tight and scattered about on the road I pulled out my pen and the cleanest white sheet, a canvas of paper in hand To write down these thoughts if we ever should meet, just hoping you would understand I folded it neatly and tucked it inside, then scanned every face in the crowd When spying such beauty, you just couldn't hide, my heart started beating quite loud I summoned the courage and called out your name, your smile it grew ear to ear You ran through the people, I just can't explain that something so special was near I loved you forever but that time has gone, still you were my wonderful dream With every sunset and every dawn, your beauty a part of my scene You grabbed me and kissed me with stars in your eyes, just hoping my thoughts I had penned I gave you the poem so you'd realize, I'll love you forever again


Poem Details | by Chris Green |
Categories: love, poetry,

My heart holds my pen


Soft flurries of affection
find my eyes lost in the prism
of the beauty that engulfs my world,

for to inhale is to fall into
the scent of sweet essence floating
the breeze exhaling from your skin

You slumber, silence caresses gently 
while phrases of euphoric devotion
gather within of this angelic vision,

a smile appears, perhaps dreams of us,
morning glory vistas full abloom,
as I reach for pad and pen

Words pour on the page, 
my fingers dance in rhythmic patterns
now wrapped warmly about my thoughts

and I wonder quietly to myself,
where is it they are born,
how do they flow so easily

From this mind that constantly spins
in whirls of enchanted visions,
heavenly views and frantic desires,

where each vowel, noun, adjective or verb
in feathered shapes of ink, somehow
scribble silhouettes of my love for you 

It is now that I notice, while
sitting in the frail sunshine of the dawn
whispering from an awakening horizon 

that my hands are empty, my fingers barren
for it seems as I write of my love for you, 
it is my heart that holds my pen


Poem Details | by Teddy Kimathi |
Categories: culture, deep, emotions, friendship, imagery, life, poetry,

WE SHARE A LOVE: A COLLABORATION WITH JAN ALLISON

Teddy lives in a world of strife,
Where fight for existence is stiff.
He writes poems that show his daily struggle,
As he tries to understand why there’s no mingle
Between different tribes and clans;
God, well maybe has better plans
His eyes are black, and his skin brown,
Like the Mother Earth he has grown.
Poverty and corruption is the norm,
As crime gangs day to day always form
His world I say, is so different from mine

Jan tries hard to make folks smile
Forget their troubles for a while
She writes poems that may make you weep
Other poems she pens you may wish to keep
Her eyes are green, her hair is titian -
The color’s out a bottle - that grey CAN be beaten
She lives on a little Island surrounded by the sea
where the air is fresh and there's no poverty
Unemployment is low, there is little crime
Her world is so very different from mine

We share a love;
A love for letters, words,
And verses,
Knit together to create a deep message
That forever echoes deep within our souls.
 
Difference in race, nationality and ideology
Are all fused together in rhythm and sonnets,
Making us citizens of the world,
Enjoying the anarchy of love.
 
We are miles apart across the sea
But we share a love called poetry.


Poem Details | by JeanMarie Marchese |
Categories: love, passion, time, me, blue, me,

Certainty and the Shade of Seven More Months.

He's infuriatingly...

pretty...

and I follow myself over his smile to find my eyes, promising uncertainty and chewing on
my bottom lip with the hunger that resides in...

love...

He rolled me over and kissed my dreams, his mouth became my salvation and I nailed myself
to the bedpost as we made love, my legs became morning while I screamed midnight to the
dawn...

and I had never seen such a beautiful sunrise, I had never seen the beginning color herself so
strangely...

I told him, as our eyes appeared shallow, as the light dimmed and he breathed summer on my
neck...

“Blue is blue, Dear, don't try to shade it with red.”

But he explained to me the art of bruises, he informed me the results were beautiful, and
he held up a mirror to my unmarked skin, places where the black and blue and...

purple...

has dissipated...

while he sheltered my chest with his hand, covering my heart with his palm, and told me
the results still beat...

in.me.

I cried, tears of the rain that once fell in April, and he held me, time slipping between
us, beads of sweat that spoke eternity and seven more months, and I spoke silently so he
could hear me, I whispered his name...

“God, you're beautiful,” he said on the second I realized the sadness had left me, that
she had found content and was studying the games we never played with the fascination of a
child, I touched his cheek with the surreal movements that occur when one has fallen and
been caught and smiled at the thought of us...

I sacrificed my pain that night, I handed it straight over to midnight when the day broke,
I blended the sunrise with blue and watched the sky turn purple with him right beside me,
I counted the minutes to eternity and he laughed at my obsessions as he told me I was...

beautiful...

as he drank my belief off my left shoulder with a kiss...

and I looked at him, in the light, my eyes deep with the memories of the sea, as I kissed
him, with a certainty I never questioned as tomorrow started forever...

and he would live inside me
for seven
more
months.




Poem Details | by Chris Green |
Categories: hate, love, poetry,

Regardless of whom is


Regardless of whom is… 


Aching, my pen moves, lines hold in place
words found wandering about my heart
Ink dries with tear drop accuracy, streaked
forming in versed collections of envisioned truth

From the gallery they call, teeth bared
ready to rip the pain from any pore,
handing down punishment, sentences
that do not fit the stanza

Still I write, poetry, 
combing thoughts of fine woven moments
presented in decorative motifs
with strawberry jam and blue button accents

Dangling in the midst of green tailed hate,
baiting the wide mouths of insistence steadily
challenging belief and validity
with a tarnished tea spoon IQ

Fingers tremble behind rolled down sleeves,
three-quarter dreams fall head first into 
basement personalities dancing in
ugly nightmare robes, sneering

And I scribble, pristine fonts of flowery flow,
enchanted lines of wisteria wrapped creations
Weaving along vine covered fences  
even as eyes peer through morning glory gates

I know this fear, you feel it too, the watching,
from every corner, tiny squares of horrific masks,
eyes floating in mud garden baths
dripping blood the color of…the color of, well, blood

But I must write, hoping you see, praying you read,
sending these phrases on braided thread
spun of love, stitched of affection, patterned desire
regardless of whom is…



Poem Details | by James Marshall Goff |
Categories: inspirational, lovelove, i love you,

Forever Love

FOREVER LOVE

 Margie........my one and only........Margie

 love's music echoes timeless
 spring fed      it flows forever

 Pop would get up early, make Mom's hand-mixed
 favorite black and green tea, and when ready,
 he walked down the hallway tinkling her teacup
 with a spoon, gently waking her.

 When he came home each day
 he'd whistle the tune......
 "Margie......how I love you....."
 alerting her that he was near.

 On occasion, his mood would be jubilant
 upon arriving home,
 whistling......
 "Sweet.....Georgia.....Brown!"
 just like his favorite basketball team,
 The 'Harlem Globetrotters'

 Mom was Dad's whole world,
 I could hear his expectant excitement
 in the tone of his remarkable whistling
 whenever I pushed him down the hallway
 in his wheelchair, knowing his one and only
 lifelong love would soon be in sight.

 He couldn't mix and brew her favorite tea
 anymore, or wake her with her tinkling teacup,

 but until the end, he could still whistle!

....and man! 

                       could he whistle!


Poem Details | by Dale Gregory Cozart |
Categories: imagery, love, morning, nature, poetry,

My Sanctuary Sonnet

I find sanctuary in this sonnet
when as verdant hills rhymes do fall and rise
with aspens quaking in the windless skies.
One such will have blue birds flocking on it.

The trees shall be my muse and bid me write
while I in white gazebo am ensconced
with flowers vased, each color a nuance
in my lyrics, a-blush at first then white.

As I meander through a cloudless dream 
the shades ever change in the wake of love.
Each line will fit my lyrics like a glove
while blue birds harmonize in morning's gleam.

Eyes of love are each an estuary
in the sonnet of this sanctuary.