by Free Byrd |
Categories:
love, write, heart, heart, love,
A love that burns under an Icy roof
Locked inside I hide the truth
The flame begins to melt the cold
My heart is yours alone to hold
She is the woman of my dreams
of my thoughts when I cannot sleep
though her heart is part of mine
it is a secret that no one may find
She is the wind to my souls sail
adrift with the key to her ocean
The ice begins to drip below
This frozen ceiling is our flames foe
A love that burns under an icy roof
The wet coals can be the only proof
For this love is most forbidden
And in our hearts it must stay hidden
Read more: Forbidden Love - Poems about Love http://forums.familyfriendpoems.com/topic.asp?TOPIC_ID=44046#ixzz2GZI7FuLU
by James Fraser |
Categories:
love,
Through warm scented mists
her pert shape silhouetted
a hunger lures I
like an asp, I taste the air
approaching lavender gems
"Approaching Lavender, a song by Gordon Lightfoot"
by James Fraser |
Categories:
desire, love, passion, senses,
Exiting the bath my eyes tell no lies
Beauty personified, tanned I spy
Wet porcelain skin catches the light
She, all woman, curvaceous delight
Near I am, to me she turns
That look, that look, like a lure
In captured trance, I advance
Closer, closer to one so pure
Hands touch hands, grasp
Wetted she against clothed I
To her nape I kiss, I asp
In wander I am, caressing thy
Pertness now she in touch
A hungered desire now sensed
Kissing, gripping hands clutch
Naked to bare, two against
.
by John Freeman |
Categories:
confusion, life, love,
“Tis pain not concern, life in earth hath become off as vague scorn.
The poison of asp drips ahead of her tongue…her honeycomb hath dried…
Life sourest as wine gone wild of natural fermenting,
wrong of love she chose extreme delusion ere her love of truth.
Loose the yoke, chaotic, psychosis, strife let life's people renew.”
by Brian Strand |
Categories:
art
An
essay
in the style
pre-raphelite-
art
P
R B -
tale of a
decameron
night
Lorenzo & Isabella by john Everett Millais of
P R B
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pre-Raphaelite_Brotherhood
http://www.liverpoolmuseums.org.uk/online/pre-raphaelites/lorenzo.asp
by Fm Rt |
Categories:
analogy, crush, i love you, imagery, love, sweet love, true love,
To kiss so lovingly the morning mist
And watch intently shadows of the flame
To know the way the moon and the sun kissed
Is to meet the eyes of he with no name
And see within those worlds a fervent need
For souls, false souls, to fall, to crush, to gasp
That flashes in the back of but one greed
But is there not when it one tries to grasp
And like the asp that bites with a stinging pain
For what love could wear both a cloak and mask
And grow wings neither lovely nor mundane
Loving spectres is a Sisyphean task
For love is purest when it hits its mark
And lights great warmth in Hades dark.
by John Thomas |
Categories:
familyjoy, may,
Oft’ I look and tempest see
Though tranquil be the turne’d page’
For though there’s shelter in the lea
There’s naught but peril in the rage,
Though not an Asp there be to sight –
Her admonishments Medusa like,
And Man may flee and Man may fight
Yet petrified he be in spite,
But in that ever changing book
That’s not yet wrote its chapters,
There’s joy and magic in her look
And in the hearts she captures,
Thorough tempest and tranquility
A joy of love my daughter be.
by Natasha Turner |
Categories:
love,
Can’t help this fatal attraction
Give me all your attention
A pinch of affection
Prick me with your love injection
Your hands around me move like a tide
Your lips taste like fine red wine
I want to taste every drop
until no, I can’t stop
Give it to me
ASP
It gives me thrills
It rocks
Thrill me
ASP
There are no rules, no direction
All I want is your affection
Prick me, pierce me
With your love injection
It tastes so great
I just can’t wait
Taste me
ASP
Dip your love
In my heart
Love me
ASP
29-04-2018
Asp - Poetry Contest
by Anthony Biaanco |
Categories:
growth,
As choking weeds of blame are bled
the garden begins to slowly grow
despite urban glass - suburban stones
with sweet rains of love it must be fed..
…but a weed never completely dies
they breathe to inflict a constant pain
strangle the petals and steal the rain...
deep rooted hate and brambles that bite.
.
A garden in its prime will mimic clouds
black blossom lips midst white satin shrouds
Just when we think we've captured Eden
the asp of drought arrives to bleed beauty out.
In our fragile minds the constant battle
between devil's claw and heaven's petals.