LOVE

In our life there is a single color,
As on an artist's palette,
Which provides the meaning,
Of life and art -
It is the color of love.
And love is a canvas,
Furnished by Nature,
And embroidered by imagination.
We are shaped and fashioned by what we love.

Love is energy of life.
It is light from heaven;
A spark of that immortal fire with angels shared,
By God given to lift from earth our low desire.
Love in its essence is spiritual fire.

Love does not consist in gazing at each other,
But in looking outward,
Together,
In the same direction.
Love won't be tampered with,
Love won't go away.
Push it to one side,
And it creeps to the other.

There is hardly any activity,
Any enterprise,
Which is started out with such tremendous hopes and expectations,
And yet which fails so regularly,
As love.
True love is like ghosts,
Which everybody talks about,
And few have seen.

To a person in love,
The value of the individual is intuitively known.
Love needs no logic for its mission.
We are not the same persons this year as last;
Nor are those we love.
It is a happy chance if we,
Changing,
Continue to love a changed person.

A love at first sight,
Love everlasting:
A feeling unknown,
Un-hoped for,
Unexpected in so far as it could be a matter of conscious awareness;
It took entire possession of the person,
And the person understood,
With joyous amazement,
That this love was for life.

A man reserves his true and deepest love,
Not for the species of woman,
In whose company he finds himself electrified and enkindled,
But for that one in whose company,
He may feel tenderly drowsy.

We often conceal love from ourselves,
In vain-
We must always love something.
In those matters seemingly removed from love,
The feeling is secretly to be found,
And man cannot possibly live for a moment without it.

Love,
Free as air at sight of human ties,
Spreads his light wings,
And in a moment,
Flies.

There is a land of the living,
And a land of the dead,
And the bridge is love,
The only survival,
The only meaning.

No matter what you've done for yourself,
Or for humanity,
If you can't look back on having given love and attention to your own family,
What have you really accomplished?

There is always some madness in love,
But there is what makes it serendipitous.
Love is perfect, even when we are not.

Love

radioactive lover! he's calling to me under the
glowing lamplight to come sit with him
and watch the clock
tick-tick-tick CHiME and bells resound
how much this frozen keyhole misses his magic key
that unlocks everything i like about myself
and everything i love about him

What is Love?

Engaging conversation
Curious negotiation
Awkward moments
Lazy meanderings
Painful separation
Longingly aching
Explosive re-uniting
Dry-mouthed anticipation
Wondrous exploration
Bodies colliding
Whispering kisses
Relieving relaxation’s
Lives melding
Reality reforming
Meaning constructed
Heaven on Earth

Love

One love poem? I have... *checks notebook* 20. How can I pick just one? Alright then, here's two.

Rising above
On stolen angel's wings
It's superhuman
to live this way
Euphoria
without delusion
Bliss
without ignorance
More than just walking in the dark
and guessing.

**********

He
Corded body wrapped
in a tight, lean frame
Strength coated in satin
He smiles at me
and all the rest the world
blinks.
Deep pools of sienna
etched out from jade
look into me
and speak what words could never say.
He moves,
he touches,
he kisses,
he caresses
and all the rest the world
stops.
He holds me tight
and I know the meaning of forever.
Warmth to warmth
Soul to soul
We breathe,
and there is nothing else.

My Love

I grip, your lower lip
from your soul, I purely sip.

Your heart I touch
Your grace I know.

Hands at your sides,
A pulsing flow.

As I return your tender traces
Breath of God upon our faces.

A fan of cards,
all four, aces.

Illusion

I believe in the things
That I know are real
Things that I can see and touch
Not the emotions that I feel

Love is a lie created by poets
To keep themselves in work
Heaven for the weak of will
Ignorance's perk

Romance is a fantasy
To be used as a practised tool
By those who can't get laid
Without acting like a fool

Lock down your emotions
Keep them hidden well
Remember when someone offers love
It's lonliness they sell
They preach it like it's magic
But the truth they never tell
You may forget your worries for a while
But in the end it hurts like hell

Love is just a word
For the hope so many seek
A word to tell another
When we feel that we must speak

Some hail it as the salvation
Of the destitute and meek
But it's a corruption of the truth
A bastion for the weak

Love is an illusion
It's all mirrors and smoke
A cruel and malicious deceit
That turns this life into a joke.

Love

It's not a poem. Hell, I'm not sure what to call it. I wrote it at 3 am last night, about 5 minutes after it popped into my head and I realised that if I didn't write it down I'd forget it by morning.

So if anyone knows what to call it, let me know.
Anyway, here it is:


What know I of love? I who've kept company with more comely maidens than angels could imagine. I who've woken many a time in the embrace of a lass met only in passing the eve before.
You ask me of love when I've slept in the arms of countless lovers. No, not lovers...lusters...whose arms speak of nothing but the desire for pleasure. Whose eyes look no further than the next morning. But to be held in the arms of a true lover, arms that speak of affection more eloquently than words, the merest touch being a promise of forever...
What know I of love? Sadly, not a thing...

Love

I've got two.

Don't know what to call either of them. I've posted one of these before, but I really like it, and it pertains to the subject matter.

Poem 1

I should be in bed. A thought troubles my head. I grow weary and my eyes become red.
Should I say? And come what may? To know the light of her day?
Or should I not. And stay distraught. And let it be all for naught.
And what if I do tell? And things go well? Would that not be swell?
But what if it is doomed to fail? And it comes to no avail?
And yet I wonder what she may think. To want the same and only wink. I am at the brink.
I need a place to rest my head. Where my decision does not lie dead. To know where I will tread.
Fear like no other grasps my heart. Doubt begins to start. Everything is dark.
I fear what I may lose. What shall I choose? When will I be free of this noose?
My mind wanders and is lost. Will I be able to pay this cost?
I should be in bed. This thought troubles my head. I grow weary and my eyes become red.

Poem 2

And you know, one day I'm going to...say something.
Other than “Nothing.”
Cause I have many things I need to say, but don't.
Maybe I’m afraid, or won't?

But I ramble, given to long winded discussion.
Cause I can't handle the repercussions.
I'm going crazy over a single word.
Something I’ve never said, something I’ve never heard.

Love.