Best Love Poem

Forbidden Love

People say that if a man and a woman love each other, they should be with each other and no other
But what happens when both people are already taken by another?
I have a fiancé, and you are married to another guy
And yet we have both been drawn to each other, without quite knowing the reasons why.
Society says that what we are doing is wrong
That surely it's not real, but just someone stringing someone along.
They say you can only love one, that it's impossible to love two
But how could they know that; is that something they've ever tried to do?
Neither of us understand this, and we don't enjoy these sort of lies
But we know what we feel is real, it's obvious when we look in each other's eyes.
I must admit I have strong feelings for you, and I wish I could call you mine
But right now I can only see you now and then, which is still better than nothing, so it's fine.
I don't know what will happen; for all I know what we have will break apart
What I do know is that no matter what happens you will always have a piece of my heart.
I will always remember your smile, your laugh, every feature on your face
Or how time you look at me with that twinkle in your eyes it makes my heart start to race.
All I can do right now is treasure every moment with you, every hug and kiss
As I continue to dive deeper into this sea of bittersweet bliss.
So come my dear, and kiss me once more with those lips as gentle as a dove
And let us continue in this intriguing adventure of forbidden love.

The Yin to the Yang

you are the light
to my dark
the love to
my wounded heart

the blue sky
to my clouds
and the sunshine
when the rains come down

you are the smile
to my frown
and a whisper
to my screaming sounds

you are the laugh
to my tears
and the strength
in all of my fears

you are the hug
to my shrug
an embrace
of over joyous love

you are the white
in the light
when the shadows
come creeping in at night

you are the calm
to my storm
a safe haven
when my demons swarm

you are the glue
that holds
when my fractures
start to show

you are the one
that I need
when my memories
wont stop haunting me

7/9/13
Thanks for saying I love you
because every time you do
I get one step closer to needing you
and even further away from living

because to be frank
living had little foreseeable purpose
before it became
living with you

which is something different entirely
it's purposeful maintenance of the human mind

I keep myself vaguely whole so that you in turn
can use me to keep yourself vaguely whole.

Then occasionally we eclipse to make something entirely together

and those are moments of beauty.

Echos On Her Lips.

 
 
She
exhales flowers
like ghosts from the grave
and echos left on her lips
risen from a haunted throat
that caught the tears
she once swallowed          
when he was
leaving her
 
 
her
chest still holding
the breast bone that
he carved himself in
with love that spread
deep into her marrow
and it eats
through her heart
like agony
 
 
she bleeds in flowers
that he left
in her hair
of daisy chains
rooted eternal
with kisses so soft
pressed across her collar
she curls into herself
hugging the pain
that tears right through
 
 
he left
with love that never waned
a bond intact
in separate worlds
on different shores
the nights
are starless since
he walked away
and never looked
back
 

Thank You



For that soft smile that graces your lips
when you see me
and the way your fingers cover your mouth as you laugh.

For the warm and shy look
your bright eyes always get
when I take your hand in public.

For the way your sweet voice
takes on an adorable, embarrassed tone
at the slightest mention of anything inappropriate.

For that epitome of femininity;
your long skirts swaying
in time with your wide hips.


And for the way, when we're alone, that all dissolves
into hurried removal of your elegant clothing,
sighs of pleasure, and animalistic panting.


For the sight of your demure lips parted,
tongue darting out lustfully,
while, with a finger, you beckon me.

For those sharp, intelligent eyes,
fogged over and half closed
with the intensity of your desire.

For the sound of your reserved voice
moaning my name
and begging for me.

And finally, for those hips,
unwrapped and spread
in eager invitation.

The vicissitude of love

Translucency of our love morphed through eons
of treacherous storms
some lucid and others ambiguous
words were merely breaths of smoke
rising from dormant oceans of volcanic ripple
convoluted and muddled
conjugating the perfectly reposed strings
misconstruing language of love

Ripeness of our flesh
fed the furtive whispers of self exile
the solitude imprisoned through past walls
impairing the consanguinity
of fingers and touch
the expanse of emotions
were sirens for song of death
filling aspirations for Elysian fields
with spurious hopelessness and despair
in this space of 'Us'

The living truth of our love
fragmentally premature at birth
in this breath, testimony inked on petals
shall blow on through passages of time
ashes to ashes
with our eulogy concealed in a vessel
soundless and motionless
sphering to another time
re-birthed with hopes
of perpetual existence
becoming entwined
in numinous divinity

I shall be there
my love
waiting for your arrival
persevering
four seasons of weather
to be whole again
with you as one

You Turn Off On    

From the moment
I saw your face
my mind
grew digits
and around you
they traced
my thoughts did linger
with all else
erased
you tuned  
my inner singer
from a throat
once grazed .

I remember
when I knocked
on your door
it opened
you said enter
I'm on the second
floor
up the stairs
I then , did go
the fool in me
did drool
with my imbecile
on show
this was a disguise
for an emotion overload
a fire raged
behind my eyes
to out of control
overthrown
by the surprise
I recognised
your soul .

I'm walking times
dimension lines
and placing signs
for you to find
inbetween
the rainbow lines
where colours entwine
to all bright white
all I knew
of you
was slight
but now I know
that wrong is right
you turn off on
and make me smile
you bring back the gone
of good
for a while .

What You Are Inside Of  I    (SP Summerscales)


I see
your freeze frame
this picture's driving me insane
theres only part of you
that's showing
with half a name
I long to know you
invent new colour , alien hues  
turn all the bad , golden
enable breathing on the moon .


Imagine floatation
we're absent
from rotation .


Orchestral notes are pitching high
we are like Kestrel's
in new skies
we could kiss Neptune
or Jupiter's eye
I am the octagon
but no sides lie
I roll and rock too
I've lived a lot of life
so I need to know you
before I go and die .


Take me away
to where new suns
light up your face
with an amethyst haze
that does eradicate
gone days  .


The cool of ruby
and all red  , is truly too me
the jewels that you have bled
and the food
you do feed too me
the words that I have read
walk around inside my head
sometimes they run instead
because of your athletic legs


If I could I'd replace
the dead stars in the sky
if it did so place
what you are  
inside of  I  .

Unspoken

The tender memory of your lips
On the curve of my hips
Your arms wrapped around my waist
Your radiating heat in that tiny room
Not a word was spoken

Every memory of you is sacred
Every thought of you I hold
From the moments that you held me close
To the fighting screaming and more
From the times you looked so jealous
To the times you made me fret

The unspoken words
Are the ones I hold close
There was never a need for the I loves or I miss you
You just knew not more than an a few hours could go by
It was always me and you
Us two always side by side

Sitting in that room
Cloudy with smoke
To go out in the city
With blurry vision
You saw my ups and downs
And still you stuck around

They all teased about our love
But still the word was left unuttered
Until the day the silence broke
And we weren't just friends anymore
Laying next to you felt different
The heat between us could not diminish
With a move and a kiss
Our friendship I do miss.

New poems only?

Who Wouldn't?


He's the kind of guy who reads me poetry
because he doesn't know what to say
or, because he's absolutely positive
but, knows someone else said it better

the sort of guy who'd backpack to Antarctica
live in an igloo, for love
then kill himself in some darkly humorous way
just to add to the tragedy of the ending
if it didn't work

he'd go all in
on a last hand
with the odds stacked against him
while walking the plank
with a smirk that'd confirm
he'd won, either way
and got the last laugh, regardless

because, no matter how deep his philosophies get
"fuck it, let it be"
is always his bottom line
and, though I've never met a more peace loving soul
I've also never met one more willing to fight
or more capable of doing it right

and, he can dream
the kind of limitless, utterly preposterous
magic filled sort of dreams
so perfectly well, that the impossible seems
rationally plausible, even probable

he's the epitome of an extremist
with bursts of radicalism
in his lack of concern
although his every apathetic thought
is still laced with care
because, he believes in alternate endings
in the heroes being resurrected
at the last second

he's woven Rumi and Nietzsche
into his own theories
every single one, based on personal freedom
and general uprising
he'd sit for days and nights, explaining them
if I needed something more to believe in

I love him
but, looking at him
as he daydreams, and talks about
night being day in a nearby dimension
and life being death in the form of a prison
that we will surely dance our way out of
any time now...
I think, who wouldn't?

I can't even remember a time when I didn't

      love (simply love)



if I start to hug you, I may never stop.

and if, outside our door, there is rain
or snow, we take no notice. in our
small cottage, the sun is shining. we hear
goldfinches singing when there are none.

at our oak table, simple, solid,
we enjoy the feast we’ve been blest with.
you have lotus tea, coffee for me.
bread of a French design, mild meats,
fruits of our choosing (I like green grapes, bananas;
you, perhaps peaches, or Carlos Williams’ cold plums.)

* *  *

in “Bonnard’s Nudes”, Raymond Carver spoke of the
French painter, Pierre Bonnard, who, over 40 years,
painted his wife as his young, always beautiful bride.
his intrepid love maintained her youth and radiance
in his heart, and in his eyes.

when love is true, it’s invincible. nothing, not the
passage of time, nor the aging of the body, nor the
inevitable dissolving of physical beauty, can
vanquish that love.

* *  *

when we sleep, we are wrapped in the comfort of joy
and peace.  and now the day, and this poem, have come
to an end.

am I still hugging you?