"deteste" poems
It took looking at your pictures today
To remind me why I deteste your name
Taking them before I didn't know they'd linger with pain
Curse the digital world
Where I can't watch you turn to ash in a radiant flame
Aug 11, 2018
Aug 11, 2018 at 3:50 AM UTC
Je deteste pas le monde, ni les personnes
Quand je regarde la vie, je pense de Dieu
Il sait pourquoi, et je ne sais pas
Alors, mon debut est avec Il. Et ma fin est avec Il.
Et toujours, je tourne une nouvelle page
Jun 11, 2014
Jun 11, 2014 at 6:01 PM UTC
Still I dream if your sweet lips
Against
Mine.
Still I dream of us and wish I had
So much more
Time.
I adore you
I deteste you
I adore
I deteste
Until there's nothing left
(Of
me.)
Jul 16, 2013
Jul 16, 2013 at 1:10 AM UTC
To feel your heart beat pumping fast,
And to hear your quick, sharp breathing,
all beacuse of me,
is something truly quite powerful.
To gently and softly kiss your neck,
and to bite down on your earlobe,
sets a passion free,
Which really is quite magical.
A French kiss, I usually deteste,
Something I find quite disgusting,
You've won me over,
Congratulations on your success.
A bed shared with barely any space,
Trying hard not to fall off the side,
Duvet disappeared,
on the floor, not needed any more.
Arms wrapped around one another,
Hand holding hand - entwined,
It felt like a dream,
to be with you that night,
A wonderful, glorious dream.
Jun 18, 2011
Jun 18, 2011 at 3:50 AM UTC
Why am I looking at this drawer
and am afraid of its contents?
over 60 love-letters of long ago
which I could repeat almost by heart
( I kept every envelope as well-
time, date received, year written thereon
in my best hand
as though they were worth more than diamonds)
several containing crushed roses
a few poems of Robert Browning
Keats, Byron, sonnets of Shakespeare
Yeats, Donne, Thomas Hardy, John Clare..
every letter a reminder
of youth's once tender kisses
solemn vows
and secret words exchanged
that could never be shared
with anyone
(love is too personal-
a sacred pledge of hearts
never to be broken)
vanished are the dreams of youth
I am old and weary now
no longer the proud lover
but a cynic
no longer a believer
in the glory of love-poems
and stories of romance
(yes---love is not a fairy-tale
and all love stories should end
with this sentence:
...and they lived with regret and sorrow thereafter...)
words are just words
spoken at convenience
for the sake of the speaker
words are selfish
though the speaker knows not
she wrote and spoke more poignantly
than I ever could
she was mistress of words
she wrote as though
she was consumed by the fire of love
and would die in its burning furnace
for my sake
all for my sake
' I would die for love
and for you, dearest
for you are my life
the very air I breathe...'
(I wept then as those words I read-
I memorised every word )
Is love but sweet words
to be forgotten ?
I shouldn't open the drawer
lest I begin to attribute blame
je deteste? deja vu? chagrin d'mour?
I was about to stretch out
my hand ...
but my faithful wife called
from the kitchen
' why are you lingering in your study?
darling, dinner is ready--your favourite chicken curry!'
Nov 15, 2015
Nov 15, 2015 at 8:20 PM UTC
You're no longer my secret
There's nothing else binding us two
I no longer belong to you
Je vous deteste
Nov 17, 2012
Nov 17, 2012 at 1:04 AM UTC
I just realized You might deteste me
as much as I hate her...
a very disturbing thought indeed
Sorry,
again .
Nov 26, 2013
Nov 26, 2013 at 2:17 AM UTC