"lovesongs" poems
No reason to be precious about it,
it's best to just be blunt,
she's got a helluva ****
I could wax poetic, swooning like a
love-drunk boy, but what's the point?
Sharing, expressing, defining the spell
is futile. *** with her is like
dancing with god.
Finally, at fifty, I feel the
vibration of lovesongs.
Not in my ears, deeper than any sense can taste.
Lost for hours in life, in bonding; finally
knowing the only knowledge worth knowing
She teaches by just being.
Responding, absorbing, inspiring,
implanting new sensations and
bringing me out of me.
Sep 14, 2013
Sep 14, 2013 at 9:42 PM UTC
Funny how a photograph can pump blood
I only have one of you, it isn't mine
it sits here backlit
shared with all that would gladly drown in those mischief eyes.
Your smile, a moment of calm, a second of perfection caught, always brings my own.
There is no beauty like yours, no work of art has ever made me want to overflow with passion the way you do. I could write countless poems, a thousand odes to your dimples, a million sonnets to your curls, a billion lovesongs to your eyes to no avail. So I'll laugh at your jokes, and be a sturdy shoulder, a friend. I'll wish the best for you always, while your heart keeps my secret safe. Poets shouldn't fall in love with the unloved, there aren't enough words to describe the agony.
Jul 9, 2014
Jul 9, 2014 at 5:46 AM UTC
The copper Sun
piercing through a warrior-skin:
red Spirit raised
echoes of the Andes
across this wide, wide space --
A kingdom bathed in waterfalls:
rainbow-droplets cape
green Palm Valleys --
Ancient breaths breathe golden mist,
plume
an up-draft for our trembling
Dreams a-flutter
in the fullness of the night,
birds singing lovesongs,
nestled in the arms, of Old Acacia Sprites
Silver Fur ridges
on the black back of a Jackal --
howling, moon-light calls,
to an ultra-violet sky
Ears pull back, heads turn upward
gazing at blue eggshells
and trigger-painted speckles,
We gather flying bullets,
fold them into butterflies --
Scale upon beautiful scale,
twirling in a Trident Maple --
intricately pattern the purest truth:
to feel
My heart is shaped like Africa,
immaculately loved
Your heart is shaped, like Paradise,
Warm, within the wings,
of a common Turtle Dove
Dec 20, 2012
Dec 20, 2012 at 4:04 PM UTC
Do not fall in love with me
I will turn every empty second into a overanalyzed thought
I will fill the spaces between our heartbeats with lovesongs emitted from my fingertips
I will make your words into poetry
Recite them over and over until they are tattooed on your skin
I will make your lips a sacred temple and send my prayers through kisses
Your body will become my garden where i will plant myself roots up
Intertwine my vines with yours
I will call you the sun
Your breath will become my air and I will use you to photosynthesize
I will forget that I am not a tree
And you are not my forest
I will forget that we are only human
So do not fall in love with me
Unless you are willing
To love the details.
Apr 15, 2014
Apr 15, 2014 at 9:05 PM UTC
Please don’t just play with me, my paper heart will bleed
But when I bleed, it waters the seeds so
Deep within my soul, I see the trees grow,
Cultivating my strength, learning to breathe slow
But the pain is too much, So I ask you please go,
Don’t cry Don’t ask Why I don’t, I don’t know
But I guess that this is just me, watching the wind blow
Wait no,
I change my mind, Don’t leave
I feel like a tree in the fall, I can’t breathe,
So I sleep, because I can’t feed,
The Trees inside my soul that support me
need you, why Could I not see
That without you there simply is no me
I know I was wrong, and I don’t have the right
To ask you to follow along with my sight
As I write words to make love burn bright
To bring back the spring, bathe the trees in new light
Walk with me through the garden again
See me as both lover and friend
The end is over the beginning is ahead
Just on the other side of the last time I said.
Please, please don’t leave me
Because I always say that I don’t need you
It’s a paper shield and see through
Please look past it I beseech you,
I want you to be the one I bleed to.
Life in pain, in your veins like a needle
And you’re my drug of choice, I need to feel you.
But Now I see the past is past
That no good thing is made to last
The future is the shadow that our actions cast
Let the sands of time bury memories of you
As hours pass, A piece of me is trapped inside the hourglass.
Because I’m so sick of love songs, so sad and slow, so why can’t I turn off my radio
Because the truth is I can’t I’m trapped in a cage
The chapter has ended I can’t turn the page,
Passion inside slowly turning to rage
Pacing directionless, trapped in the maze,
You’re the song I never got off of my mind
I wish sometimes that could rewind time
And go back to sublime, Lazy days together reclined
Eyes to the skies like the stars were road signs
That would point our way to the future we designed
And couldn’t see was still so ill defined.
But now I’m letting go
Though I feel lost, like I’m trapped in deep snow
I see the time has come at last so time so
I’m turning off the radio.
Aug 11, 2014
Aug 11, 2014 at 4:07 PM UTC
we are being sacrificed to gods unknown
we are dying slowly but
it is inevitable
that soon we shall be
DEAD
(our innocence not-with-standing)
we claim......" pure religion
is ours"
we say......."we are the strong"
yet, look and see
the obvious
if you dont
you will simply DIE
sooner
(our innocence not-with-standing)
WHAT SHALL WE DO?
we cannot stand alone
WE CANNOT UNITE
OUTSIDE THE SIGHT
OF THE POLICE
we cannot stand alone
AND SO?
come warriors
come heroes
come my fellow man
come
from off the sacrificial pyre
be swift
sure
and
NOW
IT MUST BE NOW
surely we know
surely we do
(all our lovesongs not-with-standing_
Sep 28, 2010
Sep 28, 2010 at 11:52 AM UTC
When other couples are growing
as pale and familiar as sun-bleached wallpaper
we are growing together.
Our emotions are an expanding business
that exercises new stock options on happiness.
A wire, tubular and fat with lovesongs,
is strung between our hearts
with the excitement of the first telephone
on which we coo our communications,
well aware that we disgust those of a cynical nature.
We fight and pick faults,
but every night we clean the saddle of burrs
and ride out fresh for daybreak horizons,
anxious to be reunited by evening.
We have nothing to hide from each other
and we never speak without listening.
We build a bridge from our dreams
that takes us into the future,
shaping each unique day with the hands of hope.
And still there is
room for romance to be romantic.
Feb 20, 2015
Feb 20, 2015 at 2:47 AM UTC
Life is like this greyish purple sky, - or is it smoke? - a strange and foreign concept, Life here in the most vivid and true sense of the word. The everlast of screen-bright polaroid collections and radio station lovesongs play up the impossibilities of any kind of breathe and let go, of give yourself kindly, irremediably and unbridled.
But no white plastic frame can tame a nose's redness, from the sun's kiss or a frosty, tender January bite. Love-in-the-making is an art, so I'll try not to lose it.
Jul 12, 2015
Jul 12, 2015 at 7:49 PM UTC
Ladybug lovesongs, shorts, longs, Genghis Khans
It's raining outside, warm and gentle
Fresh lentil soup, rearrange, regroup the thinking piece
Find peace part in parcel, gray zone embargo, let's go
Swing the *** down the row, break your back for it
No **** take a hit and pass it along, left or wrong
The Khan is coming out now, stomping through the mud
A cow chews her cud, the sky turns ice eyeball blue, Bailey
Hate me, I deserve it, tell me, I've probably heard it
Spit, throw your salt over your shoulder, shift that boulder
Mold over the wet bread slice, kimchi and rice
Sugar, spice, and everything spicy, like me, jalapeno tattoo'd on my arm
Does good, some harm, sound the alarm
Break the strong arm and be free
Self conscious in me, oh say can you see
By the setting of the sun, ants, plants, trails
Quails in flight, saying poison out of spite
Change your thoughts and change your life
Ladybug love songs, sing to me in your silence
Try this, I want your voice lifted to it
A note to hit, high point, max ordinate, advocates
Words of hate, washed clean with bar soap
Some hope, at this point, concise and contradictory
Dissect the diction, resurrect the dialect
Stand ***** in the face of flooding flashes
To make it in this country you need cash, kid.
Smoke a **** Winston down to the filter
Jul 7, 2019
Jul 7, 2019 at 5:08 AM UTC
Folder: LOVE AND OTHER RELATED ********
I dont feel like listening to pathetic vows pledged forever,
I dont want to hear another ******** line about love
I dont care to be reminded of the beauty and the pain
I dont feel like hoping in you again.
save the sickeningly sweet confessions
save it.
I dont even want to remember your name
Im too **** busy forgetting your face.
Mar 31, 2014
Mar 31, 2014 at 6:12 AM UTC
Drinking my whiskey teeth in the spiral of an unknown maw
Jumbled in my cups, where the thorns parade on ice
And gallons of faraway evaporate like an up close Eden…
My lungs full of aire and radioactive lovesongs
bejewelled in twilight… sink into me like a long groan
of quiet… choking on a scream that paintbrush cannot fathom
nor my prayers recite.
The volume of my sphere, squaring off with my span of years.
Folding space into impractical toys; my rivets, clenched in redwood
And forgotten things, purged by sleepless Time
On a pyre of inflammable
Pitards.
Nov 8, 2021
Nov 8, 2021 at 7:48 PM UTC
wind raucous in it's endevours tonight
circling the house in a macabre yet joyous song
and dance routine, the tree's applaud
and the small cat curls tighter in on itself
rain falls with intense passion
scrubbing the grime away
and the moon is lost in the clouds
most things tuck themselves up
and wish for a sunny day
but the old green treefrog
is singing lovesongs
and his rival too
bass profundo
at just past two
serenading the ladies
as the wind croons along
Sep 15, 2018
Sep 15, 2018 at 12:46 PM UTC