"pragma" poems
No ero love over here, no passion at all
Shame! Shame! Shame!
No ludus love over here, I'm very monagmous
No storge love over here, well then again we may have a little storge love going on
Pragma love, could be from both of us but would it really be love?
Mania love is all that we have, we go through the highs and we go through the lows when you're high
Agape love, no we don't have that , it would be lovely though
Jan 3, 2015
Jan 3, 2015 at 11:31 AM UTC
All the words of love are written,
To my darling, my lover, and best friend,
I am ravished by these thoughts of you,
From every sunrise 'til the day's end.
The day we met, our journey began,
But it began with the end of another.
We brought with us Philautia love,
Loving ourselves before each other.
Ludus makes us dance in the rain,
Like children who love to play.
We joke and tease and tickle,
And we'll be forever young this way.
Eros pulls my eyes in your direction,
Consuming your body with my mind.
Its passion joins our flesh,
And sends chills along my spine.
Philia opens our hearts to one another,
As our friendship blooms like flowers.
We share interests and even secrets,
And talks that go on for hours.
Pragma should take years to mature,
But instead of 'falling' in love we 'stood.'
We committed ourselves in a mere moment,
To forever love each other, we would.
Even Storge has a presence here,
In the eyes the children see you through.
This familial love makes this a home,
And is complete because of you.
And now I find myself in Agape,
A culmination of all of the above.
It is selflessness and sacrifice,
And it is the epitome of love.
All these words of love are written,
To my darling, my lover, and best friend.
I promise you this Agape love,
From now until this journey ends.
Sep 12, 2020
Sep 12, 2020 at 4:24 PM UTC
V. the ballad of briseis
my heart is of
the flesh of figs,
and that which
i cannot touch:
grainy sweet
garnet nectar
pretty to behold
but easy to bruise
no god shall speak for me, briseis
for this fig-heart, like the heart of man
craves art as it does god
and though i know you not by name,
but only pseudonym:
blood, words, and love,
we are kindred souls
i'd like to believe that we
are cut of the same cloth
hewn of the same mound of clay
(or cast into the same iron, i suppose
for we became one another's anchor
the day we met)
i once told you, my dear briseis,
that if you taught me symbiosis
i would teach you love
for you found pragma
in philosophy cold
markov's blankets
freud's ego, plato's cave
whereas i found pragma
in alchemy's poetry
chekhov's gun
freud's neurotics, plato's human
it means nothing.
the alchemy lies
beyond the chemicals,
beyond the seed and the egg,
beyond our festivals of atonement,
beyond my prima materia
and your unfulfilled magnum opus
it lies in simple interdependence,
the oceans, the heavens,
the forests, the deserts,
the storms, the famines,
the herds of wildebeest,
the colonies of ants,
the beady dew on the spider web
and the purling river shallows,
our acrid mouths yearning for mother's milk,
the boy who makes us cry at night,
the fiery logs roaring against the cold air,
the hoot-owls and the faces on the wall
(our skeletons never did stay in the closet)
bathed in that slow, hideous wonder
those interplays of love and symbiosis
as i drown and die in reverie once more
pray that the stakes may be forever higher
that i find those eternal elysian fields
so long as our achilles lives to fight again
we are more alike,
than you or i would
ever dare to admit,
briseis
so humor this fig-heart:
hold me and tell me
that it'll be all right
Jan 19, 2021
Jan 19, 2021 at 11:57 PM UTC
The first time a pigeon lands on your head you WILL have conflicting feelings. These consist of, "this is a magical experience" and "please don't **** on me".
But if you stay calm, interested, determined, and lucky you may build a beautiful relationship.
Mayhaps on the chance, you did get pooped on. A torturous smear on your shirt is a valuable resource to a 17th-century European farmer. It is up to you decide if you want to be that farmer.
And lastly, if two parties of the columbiform do agree to the terms and conditions, they can form a lasting relationship.
That is what I hope to have done with you, my pigeon.
Yours Truly,
~Squab
Jan 29, 2018
Jan 29, 2018 at 2:19 PM UTC
I looked into your eyes and never looked away.
Days without you were always the same,
a day was just
another day.
My mind without you became just another place-
an empty space
filled
with mornings that were just okay and would build
into nights that would never end in a haste.
I would recite our moments together.
Moments that became distant memories altogether.
Consoled
because if this was God-willed then at least you and I could be
forever.
Dec 5, 2019
Dec 5, 2019 at 12:35 PM UTC
Eros
Someone who tastes like
Ramune and Faygo, smells
Like Shenandoah
Mania
Waiting for six months
Only to find that you are
Eighteen and fourteen
Philia
Eyes just like snowmelt
Soft, cool, and fresh in the spring
Small signs of some hope
Ludus
A homecoming dance
Bumping bodies in a crowd
When your date ditches
Agape
The news surrounds us
Against suburban ap'thy
We are fighting back
Storge
Speaking of the sea
Advanced chemistry, and of
Secrets kept from mom
Pragma
One year of dating
But the sun and earth go back
Farther than we do
Philautia
Maybe we'll see it
Like a rose blooming forth from
Torrential blizzards
Feb 25, 2018
Feb 25, 2018 at 5:31 PM UTC
Ludas: love that is played as a game or sport; conquest
Mania: obsessive love; experience great emotional highs and lows
Pragma: love that is driven by the head, not the heart
Baby blue, how suiting you were
Such a natural born novice
L o s t
/// Naïve /// playing in a rose garden
Stabbed by thorns masked in Soft Pink
Such a delicately pieced tragedy
You stupid Little Girl,
How could you not know?
Salt water lips stinging my tongue
Tuscan Sun engulfed by Black
Obsidian snaking though your veins.
Why?
Thoughts intertwining with
Feelings
soon washes the alabaster with cherry
Lost in the abyss of her eyes,
Breaths are heavier
And your body constricts
You bite,
You scratch,
You wale in lusting agony
--- But roses no longer fill your lungs
--- And marigold no longer fills your veins
What a stupid, stupid mistake.
May 31, 2016
May 31, 2016 at 2:00 AM UTC
Anchored, old oak tree
Admirable without fig,
Solace from your shade.
Feb 25, 2020
Feb 25, 2020 at 11:44 AM UTC
EROS : body
every teen show I ever watched that set up love
daydreams
PHILIA : mind
the ideas spouted by happiness in one quick moment
my brothers when we laugh until we cry (and every other memory of them)
AGAPE : soul
innocence of newborns
breathing fresh air
STORGE: child
my mom crying because she’s proud of me
comforting hugs from her
LUDUS: playful
small animals
every time I talk to you
PRAGMA: longstanding
things that have
yet to come
PHILAUTIA: self
what I learned to do two years ago
everything I want to give to you (no one can give it to you but yourself)
Feb 5, 2018
Feb 5, 2018 at 10:03 PM UTC