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Poetess:
Behold, thy clay-cup, thou hast in hand,
A vessel frail, yet deep as night’s command.
What secrets dost thou hide beneath thine eyes,
Like stars that flicker ‘cross the midnight skies?

O’ Raise thy crown, sweet poet, rouse thy dream,
For I have waited long by fate’s own seam.
Let not this moment pass with idle grace,
But let us meet, heart's rhythm face to face.

Poet:
Ah, gentle muse, thy words, they pierce my soul,
A tempest swift, yet soft as zephyr’s stroll.
I am but wave upon a boundless sea,
And thou, sweet queen, dost reign o’er earth and me.

Thine eyes, sweet orbs, more fair than dawn’s first light,
Do light my path and chase away the night.
If I be king, thou art my heart’s delight,
A sovereign true, with power pure and bright.

_

Poetess:
O’ poet, thou art but a beggar bold,
Thy heart doth seek but riches more untold.
Yet in thy gaze, there lies a world untamed,
A wild desire that none can ever name.

I, thine empress, doth feel a hunger deep,
A longing that from waking dreams doth creep.
Thy passion calls me, like the moon to tides,
And in thy yearning, my own soul abides.

Poet:
Thy devotion, like a perfume sweet,
Doth fill the air where’er my heart doth beat.
Thy love, a flame that flickers, soft and bright,
Doth set my soul afire in darkest night.

Oh, what is this, this strange and fleeting bliss?
What magic lies within thy tender kiss?
For thou dost hold my heart within thy grasp,
Yet still, I tremble, lost in love’s sweet clasp.

-

Poetess:
Before me, thou dost shine, a moon so fair,
A light that bids my heart to bravely dare.
My soul, it opens like a flower to thee,
In the sweet garden where we both are free.

Thou art the storm, the tempest in my breast,
Yet in thy rage, I find my soul at rest.
For though thou burn’st with passion wild and true,
I, like the ember, long to burn for you.

Poet:
O’ darling muse, thou art the sun and sky,
Thine beauty makes the stars themselves to sigh.
Each glance thou cast, a tender melody,
That sings within the deepest part of me.

In thee, I see the world, both far and near,
A dream made flesh, a vision bright and clear.
Thy love, like honey, drips upon my lips,
And in thy kiss, my soul doth sweetly slip.

-

Poetess:
Thou art a merchant of the finest lore,
Each whispered word doth make my spirit soar.
In every breath, thy name is softly sung,
A lover’s hymn, forever on my tongue.

Oh, let me drown in such sweet ecstasy,
For thou art both my ship and liberty.
In thy embrace, I find my heart’s own bliss,
For in thy love, my soul hath found its kiss.

Poet:
O’ morning dew, thou art a soft caress,
Thy beauty drips with nature’s own finesse.
I would thee hold, with passion’s tender plea,
And let thy love run wild and deep in me.

A thousand kisses, soft as velvet’s fold,
Lie waiting ‘pon thy lips, so fair and bold.
For thou art all my heart hath ever known,
And in thy love, I find my truest throne.

-

Poetess:
O’ river wild, whose currents doth beguile,
I long to drown within thy love awhile.
Thy waters deep, where none may dare to reach,
Thy waves doth whisper to my soul to teach.

Take me, O’ river, in thy sweet embrace,
And let thy love become my sacred place.
In thee, I long to lose my very mind,
For in thy depths, my heart is sure to find.

Poet:
O’ wine divine, thy sweetness fills my veins,
A draught that doth remove all earthly pains.
Thou art the dawn, the fire, and the sun,
Thine love, the golden thread that makes me one.

In thee, my heart doth burn with love’s true light,
And in thy gaze, I see the world alight.
Thou art my muse, my song, my dream, my art,
The very essence of my beating heart.

-

Poetess:
O’ breath of life, thou art my heart’s own rhyme,
Together, we shall stand against all time.
Thy touch, a sweet and endless lullaby,
That soothes my soul and lifts my spirit high.

Let us not part, but live in endless grace,
For in thy love, I’ve found my rightful place.
Thou art my king, my heart, my guiding star,
In thee, I see all heaven from afar.

Poet:
O’ moon, thou hast my heart, my soul, my name,
In thee, I find my peace, my endless flame.
Thou art my light, my dark, my fate, my truth,
And in thy love, I find eternal youth.

With thee, my muse, I walk through love’s embrace,
For in thine arms, I find my resting place.
Thy heart and mine, a perfect symphony,
Together bound for all eternity.
A Clash of Words: Twixt Poet and Poetess 21/12/2024 © All Rights Reserved by Jamil Hussain
Ah, how the tides of words, like wind, do sway—  
No right, no wrong, only truth in its play.  
She stirred the stillness, and I, unmade,  
Was scattered in the dance her breath portrayed.  

I spoke as a river, gentle and deep,  
Unknowing the fire she set in my sleep.  
Her youth, a tempest, fierce and bright,  
Burned with the intensity of a star’s first light.  

That morning, she rose as if the moon had wept,  
A dream untethered, from the night she had kept.  
Perhaps in the cradle of wine’s warm embrace,  
She found the secret to her restless grace.  

Her questions like arrows, sharp yet kind,  
Each one a thread that wove into my mind.  
With wisdom veiled in mystery’s song,  
She lured me in, where I belonged.  

"Open your heart," she breathed, "and let it fly,  
Together we’ll write, beneath the sky.  
Our words will echo, our rhymes will bend  
Time itself, till we are the end."
An Exchange of Breath 09/12/2024 © All Rights Reserved by Jamil Hussain
Nigel Finn Apr 2022
"Do me a favour" you say, and so I do
But then one favour turns into two,
And two favours turns into three,
Until there isn't time for me.

"Do me a favour" I say, but you decline.
You say you simply have no time,
To return the favour that I gave,
"Do it yourself; I'm not your slave"

Doing a favour, with none returned
Should feel like nothing's being earned,
But only if you do not see,
I do them not for you, but me.

"Do me a favour" and, once again, I do,
And when one favour turns into two,
And you don't return a single one,
I'm laughing to myself; I've won!
Steve Page Mar 2022
You complete me
in every sound you now mouth,
every movement of your tongue,
every muscle’s adjustment
to effect fresh shape to each phrase,
in every quick, shallow breath
giving sudden pause and turn
to the next silence.

You complete me at this reading.
I had been deaf to the closing,
blind to the ending you now gift me
and ignorant of the next stair
with no balustrade to steady
where you leave the first me
to rise to find, first-hand,
the landing that now completes me.
triggered by Walt Whitman's 'To You'.
"...now I place my hand upon you, that you be my poem..."
Daisy Hemlock Aug 2020
My mind is like a pawn shop.

Most people wouldn't care about all the odds and ends in there.

But if you do, and you can make a fair exchange, anything in there is yours.

So shop around any time,

You never know what you may find
Simon Aug 2020
Trust is not commercial, because trading or exchanging wears upon one's very truth isn't exactly well thought out. It only comes about, when one's very truth isn't (not) exactly commercial. But when trust isn't truth, when one's very wears aren't as thought out as it was to begin with. Scrambling many believes until one most tired (thought out) engagement, began to unscramble back into "trust is not commercial"!
One among us ALL comes across something that never was meant to pan out correctly. Because certainty is a believe meant to unscramble ALL believes back in onto itself! Forcing many priorities too become uncertain of itself....
Druzzayne Rika Jul 2020
I have looked through flowers
They are dying without the attention
So are other beings
Waiting for a notice
A text, a message
A phone ring.

It is surprising,
Not meeting
A sudden situation
missing out on exchange
the needs are simple
short greetings.

You know them
Don't you,
Met in the corridor
The canteen,
In the bus,
In a cafe,
the bakery
The number saved on phone.

You call out
They'll hide
You reach
Be in touch
Approach
Kindness needs to be shown
Or they'd be gone
Far far away
.
John McCafferty Jan 2020
Cryptic clues lead to the jewel
Free to exchange
Man will be paid
Arms stretch afar in this digital age

Informed design as heart crosses mind
Few and far between are inside of a dream
Where have we been
(@PoeticTetra - instagram/twitter)
she whispered to him, softly,
and asked to be laid down.
down on soft ground.
on soft soil.

she remained calm, studiously
watching her breath,
slowly pouring out
the life found
within the compounds
of her barren soul.

as she slithered her
fingers through the lively
green that surrounded,
she shed one singular,
embracing tear.

as the heavy droplet
trailed down her face
and touched the dense
earth, something happened.

something so pure and beautiful.

that one drop gave life
to the land around her,
it bloomed the flowers
and the animals rejoiced.

it cleared the skies and
filled the rivers.
it made the world a little warmer
than yesterday, and gave her
spirit a home, amongst
the others who had
done the same.

it was time.
her sacrifice, although in
short scene seemed unfair,
served a greater purpose.
so he let go, and let her rest.
alone and at peace.

she went.
with a smile
at the surface.

he understood what took place,

the exchange, of life.

-melancholicreator
i'd like for readers to comment on what they think this poem might be about and repost if you enjoyed, thank you!
John H Dillinger Nov 2019
Time is all I have to spend,
though, I'm not sure on the exchange.
I'm negotiable on how I lend,
I'm sure there's something we can arrange.

You see, Time is all I have to spend,
I can't sell it for minimum wage;
but if I really had to,
I guess I'd spend some Time in Rage.

Time is all I have to spend,
So, I put my pen to page.
Time, to me, holds Everything,
It's worth thinking how I engage.
Time is true currency. How do you spend yours?
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