"casanova" poems
I don’t need a Romeo or Casanova. If I need anyone, then I need someone who I can talk to. Someone to share real life. Someone who’s present, here, and not over there. Someone who can be honest with me, and I with them. Someone who’s got words worth listening to. Someone, who’s interested in what I have to say.
Is it too much to ask for friendship first? Does that sound unrealistic or old fashioned? And why does the expectation of new relationships have to start out like a **** movie? Why can’t men be friends with women instead of wanting pieces of their body first? I’m a person, with feelings, hopes and plans, not an item of lust.
Why do women fall in the trap of wanting to find a man who'll provide everything, make them happier than they've ever been before? A man like that can't be found. A man is human, not a mystic angel. He doesn’t exist to make a woman find happiness.
On the day she finds he contains no magic to elevate her emotions into happy ever after, and he discovers she not got much to lust for, the only thing left will be - friendship. So what is left if friendship can't be found?
If love can grow from a friend, and lust grow from love - then I might be interested. Friendship is what matters, anything less, can go to hell...
Nov 13, 2014
Nov 13, 2014 at 2:53 PM UTC
I need no introduction.
I am seduction.
I lead you astray,
I let you play.
I bring satisfaction.
I need dedication.
I am Eve.
I am Don Juan.
I am Casanova.
I am neither male nor female.
I am ****** emancipation.
I am all that you want and more
Hear me moan,
better still hear me roar!
Oct 9, 2014
Oct 9, 2014 at 7:10 PM UTC
Quincy Valero
Everybody’s best friend
Jet black hair
Shiny brown eyes
A boyish smirk
Standing six foot something
Coming out of catholic school agnostic
Attending state college
Every word that came out of his mouth was a riot
A funny story of a bad situation he was in that he can laugh at now
An awkward moment with a girl he tried to get in bed
God awful train rides with a clueless conductor
Quincy Valero
A wanna-be Casanova
The irish-italian self-proclaimed “Don Juan of Dumont”
Roaring down the suburb streets in his bright yellow mustang
From Bergen county to Trenton
Edgewater to Ewing
Bumping R&B; from the 90's
A main girl
A side chick
And a few back pocket broads
Leading them on
To where?
I’m not even sure he knows
Quincy Valero
My best friend since I’ve been here in Purgatory
My lifelong cellmate
My hetero life mate
My brother of second thought
Our token white boy
He’s had his ups
Wild ragers until day break
A four way with me and two girls in my four door sedan
He’s had is downs
Falsely charged with domestic abuse
Community service, endless court room hearings, suspensions and a whole bunch of nonsense
Quincy Valero
The quintessential example of the modern day male
Stays up all night
Sleeps all day
Opportunistic
Egotistical
Miserly
*****
And hungry
Always aching to put in his two cents
And leaving everyone in a howl of laughter
An Adderall popping
Seasoned drinker
A professional *** smoker, coached by yours truly
Fast talking baritone voice
With a half serious tone
Yes, Quincy Valero
The tight plain white t-shirt wearing
Chino sporting
Nostalgic, slightly racist, sexist, anti-semitic
Bust usually honest, friendly and apologetic
Good hearted dude we all love to hate
And hate to love
Bed-headed
Pajama bottom ***
Talking about his Svedka regrets
And we laugh and laugh and the stupidest things
Then remember events that seem so long ago
And then make plans for tomorrow
Yeah, one of my best friends
My oldest friend
That’s Mr. Quincy Valero
Mar 12, 2014
Mar 12, 2014 at 11:56 AM UTC
JEFF the Brotherhood, Metric, and Phantogram
FIDLAR, The Broken Social Scene, The Zac Brown Band
King Khan and the Barbeque Show,
Matt and Kim, Vampire Weekend, Creedence Clearwater Revival.
Jimi Hendrix, The Flaming Lips, Artic Monkeys
Florence + the Machine
Death Cab for Cutie, Bon Iver, Band of Horses, Parlovr
Kings of Leon, The Strokes, Yellow Ostrich, Cage the Elephant
*** Pistols, The Ramones, Red Hot Chili Peppers,
Bob Dylan
Young the Giant, The ** Ugly Casanova,
Modest Mouse, The Doors
Coldplay, the Beatles, Led Zeppelin, The Rolling Stones
Nirvana, Foo Fighters, Smashing Pumpkins
Titus Andronicus, Bob Marley
Queens of the Stone Age, Mana, The White Stripes:
all gnarly
Jan 23, 2013
Jan 23, 2013 at 5:56 PM UTC
I am utterly convinced
that my spirit is a ten-cent *****
letting any passing nemesis
**** it in the mind
with almost no tension.
It must enjoy the sensation
as its host clearly shows
in the streams of tears
that flow through the eyes,
the spirit's ***********
It must moisten its knickers
at the viewing of torture,
as its host sits in an icy stupor,
with the times of grotesque
spectacle-sobs on tile flooring,
nicks on the wrist, what have you-
the only times of breathing.
My spirit must have stolen all the
charm it takes to captivate
the enemy into arousal,
as the host stumbles awkwardly in
public, pushing all potentials away
with vehemence and convincing itself
of its inferior quality to
even the vermin of the sewer.
My spirit has made me the loathing host
to the parasite of my own being,
my mind the main casualty,
ridden with **** from villainy both
outer and inner, decay from traumas
more persuasive than the tongue
of Casanova.
I hope it's happy.
Apr 29, 2010
Apr 29, 2010 at 10:46 AM UTC
You think that you can walk up to me with that sly grin?
You think you can whisper my name like that?
You think you can sit back and stare at me when I walk?
**I
AM NOT
YOURS.**
You think you can gift me things?
Like that makes up for the things you did?
You think you can talk to me like nothing happened?
I'VE GOT NEWS FOR YOU.
I don't know whether you want to say you're sorry.
I don't know if you miss me.
I don't know if you want me back.
Or if you want to be on good terms before you leave--
but I don't *give a ****
I'm not interested
I will tear you apart if you try to be sweet toward me again.
Apr 15, 2016
Apr 15, 2016 at 6:17 PM UTC
A Long time ago,
I was far from home,
Far from good food,
company
and familiar sights.
I was washing my bike,
Hoping for my neighbor's
sweet daughter
to come out
on her Balcony
Light up my day
with her sweet smile
My neighbor
My landlady,
Had a family of six
Beautiful daughters,
Who had no father
This churned my heart
I went soft for this family
But had no Intention
to ruin
Disrupt their peace
Nor interfere
In their daily lives
I kept my feelings
bottled in steel
but smiled
Good naturedly
at them all
and stood guard
against
any male that threatened
their gentle citadel
They treated me
with snacks
and their gentle
smiles like I was
the Orphan
and I was well fed
with my sacred
relationship
But their smiles
created pangs
in my young heart
which good breeding
stifled with iron hand
Until one day
I espied
my contractor
make eyes
at the oldest
This enraged me
Lit a fire
(I thrashed the man
Ah, the strength of youth
Knows no bounds)
into an inch of his life
till he begged
for mercy.
This fell on the ears
of my superiors
who in their enthusiasm
to please
their clients
had me transferred
2000 kms
from home
I waved goodbye
with tears in my eyes
my six angels
and their guardian
who had grown
to like me as well,
That day I swore
that no girl child
would come to harm
under my watch
without her will
and some times even
with her will when
her delicate youth
made her stray
into harms path
I would slay the dragon
of temptation
at the cost of
my reputation
among friends of
being a Casanova
I wear my disguise well
To Please God and Man.
Dec 26, 2011
Dec 26, 2011 at 2:32 AM UTC
I don't think you understand what I went through.
Every time I said I loved you.
I wanted to say I didn't.
But I was scared.
Scared you would hurt me, like the night of our 2nd date.
Yes.
The second date.
Now I'm no Casanova, what you did wasn't romantic.
You hurt me.
You broke me.
You injured me.
Both mentally and physically.
Yet, no matter how hard I try to forget, I can't.
You can always forgive but forgetting isn't that easy.
What you did was wrong.
WRONG.
I still have no clue why you did it.
Why your eyes glimmered at me.
Why you smiled.
Maybe it was that stupid smile.
Because I knew from the first time I saw it, you were trouble.
I guess I liked that.
After a while I thought you actually cared.
Boy, was I wrong.
You lied to me.
Said you were joking around.
It was just for fun.
Nothing bad would happen.
Well, that was WRONG.
Everything about you is wrong.
I don't know how else to put it.
Now I'm no mathematical genius, but there's about 7 billion people on the planet.
You had the audacity to break at least one.
If not more.
And while I'm no longer important to you.
You still play a role in my life.
You still are in the back of my mind.
Contradicting everything I do.
Despite the fact I want to forget you.
Why?
Because what you did was wrong.
I'm still not over it.
No matter how hard I try.
I've moved on to something better.
I'm finally with a boy I'm crazy about.
I love him more than you'll ever understand.
So please.
Just leave.
For the first time I'm not scared to say it.
I don't love you.
Jun 19, 2017
Jun 19, 2017 at 11:18 AM UTC
Tell me what you see when you look at me.
My eyes? My pert, soft buttocks? My beer belly?
Do you even see anything at all?
Maybe, you don't even register me. Maybe, I just walk past you and you walk past me and we both just ignore each other.
There is no special recognition, not a hint of longing or regret.
Just a casual, accidental bump because you were on the phone talking to some random ***** named Trish.
Or, maybe, just maybe, what you see, sets your libido on fire.
You can't bear to look at me because it's like looking at the sun;
You think that if you stare too long, your eyes will burn and you'll go blind.
You're afraid that one more fevered look in my direction will be the last one it takes to make you jump on me with such lust as to make Casanova weep. I dunno,
Maybe it's not as bad as that.
Maybe what you see makes you remember those long weekends spent by the lakeside, reading poetry and discovering what it means to love yourself again.
Maybe you just take a quick peek to get you through the day even though your heart wants to stare forever.
Hell, it might even be the genuine article:
That be all and end all,
The one true form,
That greatest thing:
Love at first sight.
Or, y'know, maybe you were just looking at that hobo behind me, vomiting into a bin.
Aug 16, 2013
Aug 16, 2013 at 8:28 PM UTC
O LOVE! O LOVE! WHY ARE YOU EVER DEVOID OF LOGIC?
Alexander K Opicho
(Eldoret, Kenya; [email protected])
Mankind in its pathetic folly entice you in a dint of stupor
Knowing not your true colour and texture
Endeavoring to achieve glory in your mastery
With the so limited human capacity
In grey faith that you are a cradle of bliss
But O love! Why are you ever crooked?
Young men and women in strength of their sinews
Toil day and night in ******* of humanity
Praying and whining incantations with the hope for optimal love
Ornamenting their bodies with diamond and bronze
Fibre and silk ornamented to helm of providence
In the foolish quest for love equillibria
But in full stretch of your vice, you impish love
You catapult all away to the shifted goal posts
O love! O love! Why are you ever ruthless?
You hate the learned but you favour the strong
You hate professors but you favour the soldiers
You hate the rich but you favour the agile
You hate the lawyers but you favour the footballers
You hate the pastors but you favour the ruffian
You hate the whites but you favour the Negroes
You hate the groomed but you love the ragamuffin
You hate the chaste but you favour the mistress
O love! O love! Why are you ever illogical?
Love, I revere you for wickedness and irrationality
In all of your history you scored sum *** laude
In the duo as blend of your domain, Look;
You never dwell in a genuine companionship
You like where the couth will interject;
Amidst fornication between married and single ones
Amidst adultery in the triangle of foul compassion
Amidst miscegenation between black and white
Amidst infatuation between the whole and the lame
Amidst conjugal appetite between the old and the young
Amidst concupiscence between house master and houshelp
Amidst immorality of married master over the wallowing servant
Amidst libidos between literate teacher unto the peasant pupil
Amidst disordered passion among the sly lesbians
Amidst impious ********** among the suave gays
O love! O love! You are the most wicked force!
Love I am told; your colour is red
You may be red or you may not be red
But all in all, you deserve poetical veneration
For your herculean ability to bend the most wise;
In your force you made sagacious Shakespeare to bend
In your force you made Princes Diana to bend and bend
Bending downwardly stooping for Afawoyed the moor,
In your stupefying dint you made Napoleon de Bonaparte
To bend and bend downwardly stooping for Josephine
Josephine a famed she-Casanova in the gone Paris
Among the then humanity and the then animality,
In your impairing machinery you set sons on their fathers
In the roman empire of Antony and Ceaser
In the scramble for Cleopatra, the Egyptian queen
Beauty of her aquiline nose heavily hovered perhaps
In the eyes of the Roman beholders
The father and the son only to sent the empire
To the love forlorn smithereens!
Dec 3, 2013
Dec 3, 2013 at 5:08 AM UTC
His gaze adrift through countless windows
Dreaming far beyond his eyes will ever see
The birches wept amongst cold shadows
Reminiscing of spring and leaves of green
By a southernly breeze the moment swept
He stood wondering, why do they still weep
For that moment swept, was indeed a lifetime
Charles Casanova 10/5/14
Oct 5, 2014
Oct 5, 2014 at 8:27 AM UTC
Sappho of the South
Sweetest lips upon my mouth
From Tomboy Casanova
To Soft Butch Jehovah
Stone Top, Touch-Me-Not
To chapstick and Birkenstocks
She’s my Strapping Queen
The only flicker of my bean
Oh, Lavender Menace
I’m on my knees in minutes
Stud-finder
Cunt-diver
Love-guider
Me-inside-her
Lover’s lips upon my mouth
Lovely Sappho of the South
Jun 14, 2025
Jun 14, 2025 at 1:07 AM UTC
You are a model
a bartender
an accountant
a casanova
a catch-22
a poet
a pitiful romantic
and
a tormenter of my heart.
Oct 18, 2012
Oct 18, 2012 at 1:24 PM UTC
Alexander K Opicho
(Eldoret, Kenya;[email protected])
As its social phenomenality
Grows with zeal and verve
Humanity of love befits
Beautifully Elaborate explanation
To enable both young and the elderly
To have clear and useful
Knowledge and insight
Of what is love;
Shakespeare in the prime
Of his bardness decried it
A foul protégé of individual beholder
Christ confused it for self-immolation
In the succor of the universe
Leo Tolstoy thought that
It was minimal ownership of land
Umberto Eco in his scriptorium
Declared it man’s impaired judgment
Kenyan cubidmaestroes deem it human foully
To create a leeway to keep change of a Casanova
Mahatma Gandhi called it caste blindness
Mandela called it zero apartheid
Both in Luther King sang the song
Of nonviolent revolt
But me I will boldly clash
With the precedent civilizations
To call love foolishness of a man
And shrewdness of a woman
As for both man and woman the very love
In un-fangled in truth that it can’t pay bills.
Jan 8, 2014
Jan 8, 2014 at 8:49 AM UTC
Cords are becoming loose,
Affections floating the boat
To the island of Disappointment
Oxytocin no longer rushes
Staying stagnant
Until a trigger releases the manacles
Tied stiffly
Assumed there is a chance
But you waived the golden opportunity
Embarked on the journey
Of self-indulgence
Into your picked avenue
Casanova
Betrayer
Narcissist
Hypocritical Not I
But you showed me
I will decry
Jan 18, 2014
Jan 18, 2014 at 1:52 PM UTC
So you pulled again.
In Essex, in London, in Leeds, in Weymouth...
The list goes on.
Why do you always tell me?
I'm not jealous. You're just ******* them.
But that photo with your arm around her.
You ****** her too, I'm sure.
Complimentary of toga night you're pretty much semi-naked.
It was the two lipstick marks on your bicep that got me.
Not one, but two! On your perfectly firm, right bicep.
The one I gladly tied a blue ribbon around, whilst
my face was turning as pink as my Girl Power bandanna.
I hope you'll change back to the changed man you said you would be,
after the Fresher's fortnight is done.
If not, as opposed to ******** me emotionally,just **** me too.
It'll never be enough, but it's better than your smug texts! x
Oct 1, 2012
Oct 1, 2012 at 7:34 PM UTC
the telephone rings at eleven on a weeknight
and i can see you
huddling over a stranger's phone in the streetlamp glare
your skeletal fingers slow and stained with nicotine
pupils shrunken
deer in the headlights
what do you need
the telephone rings at eleven on a weeknight
and i can see you
plucking pills from carpet fibers
scraping your hands through the couch cushions
snatching my allowance from beneath my mattress
prince of thieves
what do you need
the telephone rings at eleven on a weeknight
and i can see you
smiling for the kodak
cooing sonatas against her cold pretty ear
nervous fingers tying the corsage
casanova
what do you need
the telephone rings at eleven on a weeknight
and i can see you
peeking out behind worn fort walls
sketching monsters over saturday morning cartoons
fishing pole in hand
sweet thing
what do you need
the telephone rings at eleven on a weeknight
and i can see you
rewind the tape
first tottering steps
gummy smile
child of love
what do you need
the telephone rings at eleven on a weeknight
and i can hear you
hello
yes
what do you need
Feb 24, 2014
Feb 24, 2014 at 5:48 PM UTC
Your presence is crepuscular.
In my beating heart,
I feel muscular
When the twinkling starts.
Your infinite laughs
Absorb me like gravity.
Each humorous blast
Engraves the moons cavity.
Your ostentatious sense
Explodes like a super nova
With every chance,
But you're only my Casanova.
Your spirited eccentricity
Forces all into orbit
Causing the weather to become dusty
Taking my love from Mars to Jupiter.
I admire you as the sun,
Honoured to shine with your light.
Even as far as Pluto,
The sun would be bright.
Jan 5, 2015
Jan 5, 2015 at 4:35 PM UTC
He awakes from deep slumber
to find his beloved missing by his side,
again.
Casting off the shroud of dark, dense clouds
He dons the black cloak of night and begins his frenzied search
for Her - the perpetually elusive one :
He scours the skies, cuts through frosty winds,
roves through the infinity of stars desperately seeking Her,
looks down :
at the lonesome road abandoned by commuters
that treaded upon her all day long
at a dingy alleyway where a girl solicits her new owner
for the night - to be used, abused, misused
at the young woman storming her way back home
distraught from a break-up with her Casanova of a lover -
- all this, while She trails behind him
in his quest for love, silently accompanying him
as he drifts over unknown lands,
hoping his agony abates, wanting to tell him
she is there, he could see her.
She, who lends meaning to his being,
his silvery, mesmerising
Moonlight.
Feb 9, 2013
Feb 9, 2013 at 5:47 PM UTC
She had **********
Down to a fine art;
Knew the nuances
Of kissing, or so
Uncle said and he
Should have known
As he had what you
Would later say was
An encylopaediatic
Knowledge of women,
Sufficient to put old
Casanova to shame.
Never treat women
The same, Uncle said,
They’re like precious
Diamonds, each has
Their own shiny bits,
Their little neat crevices,
Their own fine beauty.
Auntie knew nothing
Of this; she had the
Beauty of a dogfish,
Uncle often whispered,
Holding back a laugh.
The dame in question
Sure had you hooked
On her beauty like a fine
Art. You would dream of
Her most nights, have
Imaginary love feasts,
A fantasy laying of the
Head between *******
Pretend holding of hands
Before dipping in the deep
Gulf of her thighs. Henry,
Uncle’d say, women are
The high point of God’s
Creation, His claim to fame,
His special one off artwork.
The dame invaded your
Dreams and flooded your
Senses and ****** your
Juices; she had each aspect
Of your being pegged to her
Every move and shake of
Head and wiggle of ***
Henry, Uncle’d say, women
Are the reason for being,
The whole point of getting
Up in the morning and going
To bed at night, they are the
Reason popes or priests don’t
Marry, they are the pinnacle
Of humanity, the reason why
Your auntie runs them down.
Yes, she had ********** down
To a fine art, right down to
Her red painted toenails, right
Up to her dark brown hair and
You’d have made love to her
In your dreams each night in
Front of auntie’s ice-cold stare.
Mar 10, 2016
Mar 10, 2016 at 3:01 AM UTC
She told me: "You always get women. They forever chasing you. And I'll be dammed if I said you don't come across as a player, a 'Casanova', using your charms and words. But I know that is started with you looking for the 'one', the one girl you hoped existed. A girl you could be yourself with, a girl to fall Inlove with. But I can see that as time moved on, you began to give up on the 'one', thinking you wouldn't find her. But I know when you saw me. And when we spoke for the first time. You began to feel hope again...that I was the 'one' you have always been looking for."
Sep 15, 2017
Sep 15, 2017 at 3:13 AM UTC
....your fined-tuned beauty
As if a goddess has been reincarnated
to an embodiment as yours
The way your lushious hair is displaced by the wind
And aligned in a perfect mess after settling down
The eyes of yours, as if they were two ponds
under a full lunar beam
reflecting mysteries into my heart
Your eyelashes are like the grass
surrounding the fathomless pond
covered with glimmering droplets of dew
to complement the eyes of yours
Your face, a mark of true beauty
which signifies your pure heart
And a smile of yours
from your mesmerising lips
can make any mens' day
Your laugh
gigling in shyness
was a habit for you
but it was and will always wil be
beautiful
The humility of yours
was too much
It was just, so wrong to see such a humbled woman
Your humility defeated me
When you are drowning with sadness,
I will be there to rescue you from the horrendous flood
When you are eaten by depression
I will be the one to pull you back up
from the belly of the beast.
When you are cold, alone and lost
I will the Sun to provide you warmth
I will the lustering light to guide you
I will be the one to be by your side
(Insert name here), you truly are the one that I want to look after.
Jan 26, 2014
Jan 26, 2014 at 9:48 AM UTC
i keep saying "i cant stop drowning" and i know you dont believe me
(this is okay;im used to it
i have a cardboard box full of letters without stamps)
you call me casanova like you have a bad taste in yr mouth
(this is okay too;dont feel bad
dont try and pull the spiders from my mouth)
yr nose is bleeding
Nov 25, 2014
Nov 25, 2014 at 8:22 AM UTC
Cradle the memory of love
For one sad day it will pass
Like a cold and lonely dove
Lying broken on the grass
No matter how hard thy plea
No matter how gentle thy sway
The hands of time
Only travel one way
Charles Casanova 10/26/13
Oct 27, 2013
Oct 27, 2013 at 1:01 PM UTC
I'm an intercontinental casanova
I drive the roads and highways
I'm a lover of the ladies
And I love to drive the bi-ways
In every town I seem to go
Theres a lady there for me
It's not a one night hook up thing
It's full of feeling, can't you see
From Florida to Baltimore
And all points in between
I have a woman there in waiting
To help me make the scene
I'm an inter-coastal lover
An inter-coastal driver too
For the time that I am with them
There is only me and you
From east coast to the west coast
From the midwest to the hills
I have women always waiting
To help me get my thrills
They know about each other
They don't mind, at least I think
They keep their secret thoughts so secret
If they didn't, I would drink
When I am with one in a city
I am theirs and theirs alone
They only know of my arrival
When I call them on the phone
If I get there and they're busy
Then I drop my load and go
There's no need to find another
Two in one town....no no no
I'm an inter-coastal casanova
I drive all round the place
I can't stay in just one city
I always need my space
If one girl gets possessive
And want to settle down
That's when the party's over
And I vacate from that town
I pick up loads at my request
Going where I've been before
And like I said if it gets dangerous
Then I don't go back no more
I'm an Intercontinental
Inter-coastal lover boy
I have women 'cross the country
And we bring each other joy
I love the life I'm living
No commitment no regret
and there's no one there complaining
of anything I might forget
You may frown upon my lifestyle
But it works ok for me
One day I may get married
But I don't know when that will be...
Apr 1, 2013
Apr 1, 2013 at 10:33 PM UTC