I don't write love poems
Because I have too much love
Bursting inside

And poetry
Doesn't contain your feelings
It amplifies them
And I don't want

Them inside of me
To burst out
Unable to stay no longer

It's still me
though I had to change
the name I've had my whole life.

Not legally of course,
but poetically

While I wish my name remembered
as one with written art.
I can't risk possibly losing
those who have my heart.

With time I've come to realize
that people can't be trusted.
They take the good and make it bad
or let it leave them rusted.
They never understand

So I remain anonymous
With simple pseudonyms
To protect myself and others
from pure and raw emotion
in case they can’t withstand

I know some deep pain saddens you now
It has been nesting in your heart for long
Breeding in the silence of your soul
It leaves your body n' mind awfully sick

It intensifies with every deepening night
Leaving the wound in your heart severely bleeding
Something that you haven’t fully divulged
Robbing you off all your cheer and ebullience,

I can feel the smoldering of your heart
How I wish I could fan away those aches
Wipe off all the pain from your body n' mind
Or at least share a bit of it, dear sweet Kim!

Even when you wear a mask impenetrable
Or sublimate your feelings through lovely verse
I can gauge the depth of despair you feel inside
And sense the rising palpitations of your heart.

When your eyes strain to read what is on the screen
You feel, you are deprived of the only pleasure you have
Though you hoped things would improve in course of time
When your eyesight got badly impaired, you sank in despair

Even when distanced, please know I am near
Somewhere so close, as an unseen presence
Staying by your side, to wipe your tears away
Praying for you ever and wishing you all good

You were the darling of this great poetry site
Your presence is sorely missed by all
We wish you to be back with your balmy words
Eager to read your lovely verse, proclaiming love

Life is strange with sudden twists and turns
But never ever give up, nor lose hope
Believe, at any time there can be a turn around
After the bleary night, comes the bright morn

Again the sun shall show up in the East
Darkness will recede and light shall descend
The meadows with dew drops shall shine
 And the woods with the song of birds will ring

Look up to God in issues you cannot handle
Call Him again to your aid when you battle with life
He cannot but yield to the voice of your calling
And instantly heal your heart, now deeply bleeding

that i've been reading your poetry
(on the new front page)
and,

I ******* love
your words; your worlds;
it's like i'm,
    there. right there,
with you.

you see, i didn't do what you do--
         write my story aloud
--when i was fifteen, or even twenty-two

just an inch off the ground
                        i confided in clouds
stayed lost (was a puff too proud)

that was then, sure, but even today
   (it's 11:11, now)
putting any of it down
committing to this word, not that
this sentiment,
      not that
this meaning
       (and not simultaneously that)
              is walking through fire

and so, for leading the way
           let me just say,
                       i love you

and please,
don't ever stop.

I loved to ride my Schwinn bicycle
I guess I was only nine
I ride it down to the pond
where I spent a lot of my time

I also loved a girl back then
She had a dog named Polar Bear .
Of course it was white
Until it was run over
by a school bus whose driver didn't care

I loved living in Florida
The salt air from
the ocean there
When I left the Sunshine State
I left a huge chunk
of me back there

Now I am a hand in my pocket
Always reaching for something not there
Home is where you hang
your hat
But I found no pegs to hang it
Inside of your lair .

If only we could put poems
in a bucket
Then throw onto a raging
fire
Would the flames die out
Or leap even higher .

But it seems words cost us nothing
More plentiful than the grass on the ground
Our lives have become instrumentals
Where there are no words to be found

I want you to know
one thing.

You know how this is:
if I look
at the crystal moon, at the red branch
of the slow autumn at my window,
if I touch
near the fire
the impalpable ash
or the wrinkled body of the log,
everything carries me to you,
as if everything that exists,
aromas, light, metals,
were little boats
that sail
toward those isles of yours that wait for me.

Well, now,
if little by little you stop loving me
I shall stop loving you little by little.

If suddenly
you forget me
do not look for me,
for I shall already have forgotten you.

If you think it long and mad,
the wind of banners
that passes through my life,
and you decide
to leave me at the shore
of the heart where I have roots,
remember
that on that day,
at that hour,
I shall lift my arms
and my roots will set off
to seek another land.

But
if each day,
each hour,
you feel that you are destined for me
with implacable sweetness,
if each day a flower
climbs up to your lips to seek me,
ah my love, ah my own,
in me all that fire is repeated,
in me nothing is extinguished or forgotten,
my love feeds on your love, beloved,
and as long as you live it will be in your arms
without leaving mine