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 Oct 2019
Traveler
Good night my love
Alone I lay
The heart grows heaver
With the end of day
A wandering mind
In a maze of rhymes
Gathering poetry
From vanished times
Lovers eyes
Slit the night
A poetic mind
Possesses sight
To see the wrong
In an artistic light
Where the beauty
Of pain sadly ignites
And there a spark
In the dread of dreams
A mirror reflection
Of what could have been
While alone I lay
In my dark room
Rocking and a rolling
And a howling
At the moon
...........................
Traveler Tim
 Oct 2019
Àŧùl

If beauty is to be a person, it is you.

Looking at you I feel so young,
Over to my lost years I'm taken,
Visit I do my teenage fantasies,
End the ones never would.

Yes, I float in love with you,
Of ethereal foam is my heart,
Up in the cloud nine, you're mine.
My HP Poem #1775
©Atul Kaushal
 Sep 2019
Bijan Rabiee
Of one essence in creation's mold
Our souls are organs
Of a cosmic whale
Swimming the ocean of Time
In search of destiny divine.

When an appendage
Is suffering in pain
Others must apprehensive remain
If some members show no pity
For another's afflictions
The appellation of Human
They can not retain.
 Sep 2019
Victoria Jennings
A kiss so sinfully delicious
That the devil himself
Cannot bare to watch.
By celestial shores is there burnished gold
More fair than I see in my lover's eyes,
Or seraphs whose pulchritude to behold
Nears my queen's opalescence of the skies?
For though I know days will fade into night,
And nights will evermore melt into day,
But my love, like as hues of the sun's light
That ever glows the same, so shall it stay
With constance like as tides of gushing time
That neither man nor birds of skies above
Can dare grasp, but watch 'em roll clime to clime.
So, as far as lives time, so shalt my love,

   For like as water doth abound the sea,
   So doth her love upon a heart of mine.


©Kikodinho Edward Alexandros,
Los Angeles, California. 9/1st/2019.
#Shakespearean sonnet #Unto she who will never read it.
 Jul 2019
JcA
You wrap a bow around the present. Every moment with you is a gift. So here is my heart. I don't care the risk. I am yours in every sense.
Happy birthday, love
 Jun 2019
David Adamson
A long time ago I tried to write
A love poem to a girl of my dreams.
I was burning and I was burning
For her. Instead, it seems

I wrote something about amnesia
And forgetting how to feel.
I wanted to win a dark mistress’s heart
Only the burning was real.

Or a different story:
The gulf between objects and desire.
Like the soul in Emerson’s tale,
We can never touch our beloved with fire.

Or loss. A long-legged beauty
Disappeared into echoes that I can’t explain.
Still burning with thirst
I wrote about ashes and pain.

Then I met you on a blooming campus path.
You had sinewy curves and a powerful flame
In your eyes that left me burning
To give your pleasure a secret name.

But it turned into a different plot.
You told me I set something inside you free.
It was new and I was still learning.
I told you, “Come burn with me.”

I think I know what the problem was.
I needed to learn a language from you,
The wordless speech that tongue teaches tongue,
Eye glints to eye, that skin lets through.

And our bodies coiled together
And your brown skin and my pale skin
Entangled in the heat of unity.
The burning flowed from outside to in.

There has to be a word for this,
Something enduring, strong.
Come close, I’ll try to whisper it.
Though I might get it wrong.
Dedicated to my wonderful wife, Vickie.
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