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Love Age Poems | Age Poems About Love

These Love Age poems are examples of Age poems about Love. These are the best examples of Love Age poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

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Details | Iambic Pentameter |

I saw you yesterday

I saw you yesterday

I saw you yesterday, your features grinned,
some silken scarf was waving in the blue,
I thought of what the rains could not rescind;
our images, that in the fields imbue.

I saw tempestuous, around me shades,
the rain's persistence had engraved your name
upon the slate, around she formed cascades,
inviting flash amid the drops, and flame.

I saw flash yesterday, inside the rain,
how beautiful it was, her kiss of dew
your words became my sails on trip arcane 
the clouds, your messengers, 'mid skies to strew.

I sensed the crooked line reticulate,
the sulfur acrid smell and pale flame's hue,
transmuting to abderian road skate,
zigzagging on a water copper tube.

The flame transformed to runnel flowing laughs;
the rustling of droplets on the leaves,
combined the bright and shapely drawing graphs
with clouds to form above, celestial eaves.

I saw flash yesterday, my features grinned,
like silken scarf was waving in the blue,
I thought of what the rains could not rescind:
two images, amidst the fields imbue.

© G. V., 10-21-2013, All Rights Reserved
(Iambic pentameter)


Details | Free verse |

These Eyes Have Often Been Solaced

These eyes have often been solaced by twilight's cotton candy pllows moving silently towards a sky's velveteen blanket and angels'silver gowns By gazing over hills to where old country church bells and crickets play harmonious sounds These eyes have often been solaced by honey coloured shadows pouring moonlight zest across the rose plum of my cheek By little antique lamplights which illuminate my soul 's dark cobbled street By winds carrying sea-salts to a fragrant golden sand By tides washing out corals to a distant land These eyes have often been solaced by your return to this vacant room inside my heart By the hush hushed whisper of your voice By the embrace of your arms By the way you love me By the way you need me By the way you want me Like an autumn bonfire before next sunrise'dew fall By the way you lean on me


Details | Free verse |

Money-God

Trust not in the words: "In God We Trust", printed on currency,
for God and Money should be kept separate,
unless one desires to tempt fate with the Money-God,
tempt fate by not over-turning the money-lenders' tables,
although many might argue how this isn't good for business.

Why not know the value of life,
instead of focusing too hard on the prices of Idols.

People are bleating at the prospect of "God" being removed
from money, arguing that if God is removed from money,
the grazing grounds will become Godless.

Godless? 
With or without the words, 
a Money-God is a God nonetheless.
There is at least one true God, 
whether man-made or not;
an authority of control,
a God of profit margins.
Violence is a profit margin.
Hatred is a profit margin.
Bullets, Amendments, and Death, are all profit margins.

The war being waged upon children, is a profit margin.

If I had been given the chance, 
I would have tried my best to take him out,
morphed the vapours of my remaining hatred into bullets,
or torn him apart with my hands.
To stop innocents from losing their innocence.
There are lines drawn in minds,
that if crossed over, stretch beyond the bristle-board of rehabilitation.
Even Clockwork Orange bleeds into crimson spatters.

When a child survives a massacre,
runs across his school field to find safety from a stranger,
proclaiming to the stranger, "I can't go back to my school, it isn't safe there.
My teacher was killed, I don't have a teacher anymore.
All of my friends are dead."....

....then innocence has been lost, and the Money-God is empowered even more.
Lost innocence spreads like a disease through the minds of global villagers.
Fear breeds fear, breeds control and disintegration of the Stream-Mind.

If I had been given the chance,
I would have fought fire with fire,
fed the beast within, 
taken him apart with a breath of hatred.
Breathed it out, pushed it out, purged it out.

Satan is a scapegoat used by people who are unwilling 
to take accountability for their actions and sacred responsibilities.
The Beast is humanity -
not marked by a fairy-tale Devil,
but instead marked by the Money-God created in the image of man;
recreating the image of man through fear.

Some people might be intrigued by how many definitions of God there are.
Even if money is a necessity,
within our core there should reside a different Kingdom -
without and within, within and without.

If I had been given the chance -- past tense....

....if I am given the chance,
I will try my best to take him out,
smudge him out
with the remaining hatred in my heart.
Breathe it out, push it out, purge it out,

until all that's left is to love,
until all that's left is to love.







December 14th, 2012 - S.H.E.S:  28 - 2 = 26




January 7th, 2013




.


Details | Narrative |

The Long-Suffering Wife

Believing that marriage was ordained of God; 
that, like a seed, it needed constant nurturing, 
she sowed her deep devotion with a hope 
that stretched beyond an ordinary scope. 
That hope scanned schisms that had left her desolate-
until it reached the heavens with her prayers.

Time and time again, her spouse complained or failed to do small things
essential to cementing the marriage bond.
With unusual restraint, she held her tongue, forgave. . . and listened.
If matrimony were the fire in a hearth, she supplied the kindling and the logs;
then lauded him for twigs that on occasion he tossed in. 
Some nights she’d lay a weary head upon the chest 
of the one she called her husband (when he was fast asleep and didn’t know). 
In those moments, she felt the beat of that heart he never showed to her.

With humbleness she supplicated God 
that she might find connection with her mate.
She wondered and she wondered why. . .if thoughts, invisible, 
which were transmitted to the Lord, were able to be recieved by Him,
why could not her words, directly spoken to the one on earth she loved, be heard?

Daily on her knees, she telegraphed celestially with a faith most extraordinary. . . 
and wisdom came. Her love would not be broken, and she grew. 
The seed she’d planted took root too and grew until there came a time. . .
she laid a graying head upon the chest
of one that was her husband (not just in word only); 
a someone who now watched HER as she drifted off to sleep. 
With his heartbeat strong in her ear,
she heard him whisper softly, “I love you” as he kissed her cheek goodnight.


For Audrey Carey's "To Err Is Human to Forgive Divine"


Details | Rhyme |

Spiritual Moment

“My Mystic Moment*with you”

A natural look of who I am on the inside.
A reality check of who you are on the outside.

A mirror facing west makes the difference in you and me.
Open your eyes and see.

The child I was today is the reflection of you tomorrow.
The ideas of different skies, drifted off without sorrow.

I am the good the bad, and the ugly…
A song permitting retrospection to delay the same face with yesterday’s glee.

From moon, to admirable moon;
The dignity of holding the same tune.

I am the swan that swims through your veins.
You are what swim’s through my moods and rain.

The miracle of our heritage, echoed so far away. 
Auspices now imitate metaphors that were under the surface bay.

An unknown look strays outside the window.
Behind the gates, that leads into tomorrow’s limbo.’

A mirage of turning around and seeing nobody but you and me.
Mystic moments that attract other moments of originality.

A dream that speaks about the image of my new beginning.
My courage polishes off the mirror image of a falling stars ending 
You are the beating pulse that resides on the inside and outside of my being. 

“You are the REFLECTION of my spiritual place”





Details | Rhyme |

Goodbye, My Child

Where cradled canyons sing
Of ebony wood in the forest
There lies a gurgling spring
Where cockcrows sing their chorus
To the melody of singsong birds
There I’ve concealed my sensuous words
Filled with befitted signs
The saccharine whiff of my designs

Come to me my mortal youth
To the wild realm of your truth
Where nymphs and gnomes abound
For the earth is filled with weeping
And only your tears be found

Where the fogs of night are fountains
Spills of glistened moon ignite
By distant silhouette mountains
We dance with passion of fight
Entwining ancient stance 
Mingling hand in hand we dance
Till the mountains smile on high
Near and far we spring
To pursue the realest of dreams
While the world cries at its seams
Anxious in trouble to cling

Come to me my mortal youth
To the wild realm of your truth
Where nymphs and gnomes abound
For the earth is filled with weeping
And only your tears be found

To where the ridges merry make 
From the beaks of wooden bright
In sparkly pools the ghouls awake
That scarce to stir our night
We watch for seekers down under
Muttering secrets in their soul
We bid them lucks of shivers
Dipping gently in
From reeds that hide a tear of a foal
Under the gentle rivers

Come to me my mortal youth
To the wild realm of your truth
Where nymphs and gnomes abound
For the earth is filled with weeping
And only your tears be found

Far away she shall ever churn
The taciturn eyed
She’ll listen no more to turn
To the working mills beside
Or the scrubbing of the barn
May peace weave in her song
She shall wave in the yarn
To a haven known as Belong  

Come to me my mortal youth
To the wild realm of your truth
Where nymphs and gnomes abound
For the earth is filled with weeping
And only your tears be found

For she comes, the mortal youth
To the wild realm of her truth
Where nymphs and gnomes abound
For the earth is filled with weeping
And only her tears be found


Details | Pantoum |

Wayward Child

Ah, memory is a fickle lover succumbing to the tide
grasping for the grains of sentiment sometimes left.
In cold or torrid waves, spent passions now abide
for you have left me, long ago, I'm now, alone bereft.

Grasping for the grains of sentiment sometimes left:
beside a roaring bonfire, where sparks on night winds glide;
for you have left me, long ago, I'm now alone, bereft.
I huddle in a dune's dark shade with nothing left inside.

Beside a roaring bonfire, where sparks on night winds glide,
we conceive a wayward child, a changeling child, a thief. 
I huddle in a dune's dark shade with nothing left inside,
as the waves of age and ages, return only grief.

We conceive a wayward child, a changeling child, a thief. 
In cold or torrid waves, spent passion now abides,
as the waves of age and ages, return only grief,
ah, memory is a fickle lover succumbing to the tide.




Details | Free verse |

The Shadow of Me

It was a long time ago, in another age
Where the shifting of the wind
Knew where I began
A place so far away, 
Somewhere distant, in childhood country
Before the fog had set in,
Before time lost all trace of me

Where have they gone?
Those merry dancers with whom I played?
When we were queens of the carnival, kings of the parade?
Before being dethroned to mid-life corners
Hearing the music, without playing the drums
They tell me to take this age with grace
Yet everywhere I turn, is young

I'm still the same, I have not changed
I lived a time where love was wild and thoughts were too
With high regard, when eyes were glued
Now inside I'm torn in two...the old and the new
Trapped between this nowhere place
Myself and someone else
Until each barrier becomes a bridge...
Have I been shaped too square by passing years, to fit in circle's place?

My memory recalls those beautiful tomorrows
Now long buried in yesterday's ground
There are other ways to measure time
Besides growing older and graying hair
Recorded music fills the room
Left playing from an earlier time
When October skies showed fading traces
Of empty days and sad old faces
The "others" of whom I had no fear

Now those shadowed remnants from my past
Are stalking at my heels
Will somebody care to ask?   Will anyone need my mind?
Will they patronize, or just be kind?
Care enough, make me useful, give me value, call me beautiful?....
Not yet the age I'll someday be
Still, I feel the sting of losing me
How I ache for all those love songs
How I ache for someone needing, someone pleading...
For advice....for my worth, for an answer, will they want me?
How it haunts me.....Will they see me?
Touching me....reminding me of who I am................not just who I was...



Details | Rhyme |

Whispers Of Light

Melodic laughter floats on the breeze
Fire light crackles and your eyes tease
Escaping embers glow, like whispers of light
They dance and hold us, this magical night

Nothing between us, our souls exposed
Twinkling stars - a new song composed
Whispers of light, grow hot and untamed
Tonight's promise, as of yet, un-named

For years now, it's been this way
Whispers of light, between us stay

Love.......

2-9-2014
©Donna Jones


Details | Free verse |

Speak My Language

Speak my language
A language of love I can understand
My heart language
Understand my need
My desire to be understood
Speak my language

Speak fluently to my heart
Words of Affirmation
I thrive on hearing praise
Appreciation
Verbal validation
Of all I do and am
Of all I want to be
Words of Affirmation
Speak to my inner woman
And give her fairy wings
To fly to you and meet YOUR every need
In a language YOU understand

Caress me
Run your fingers through my hair
Let them frolic with every strand
Run them over my lips
Dip them inside
And let my lips close over them
Let my tongue tease
Run your fingers down the length of my arms
Give the fullness a gentle squeeze
Let your lips travel down my neck
On their pilgrimage
To the sacred valley 
Between my breasts
Where they will nestle for a while
Before they travel 
Up the soft snow white ascent 
Longing to explore
The beautifully colored terrain
Of the glorious twin peaks

Gently, with butterfly wings touch my waist
Feel the earthquake motions they instigate
Let your hands speak
A language my body understands
The language of Physical Touch
The one I comprehend the most
A language that will not be lost
In translation to my heart
Words of Affirmation
Physical Touch
My love languages
That fill to overflowing
My desire to be loved, wanted

Acts of Service
I will gladly perform
Speaking now in turn to you
What your heart translates
As love from your woman
I'll show my respect and care
In tangible ways
A bed freshly made
Warm food to tempt your appetite
As I will later tempt your body
A massage to sooth away
The cares of your day

Quality Time
Your heart understands
When I give you my full attention
Putting all else aside
As my eyes focus on yours
And the world stands still
I free my mind to listen to the words
Spoken and unspoken
That you convey to me
And having heard all
I arrange my time
So that your heart can see
You are a top priority
To me

And the final language
Is a shared one, my love
Giving Gifts...
A poem tucked in your briefcase
A flower for me
Heart shaped earrings
My favorite perfume 
A necktie
A luscious mango
When my heart craves succulence
Decadent chocolate
Made ever sweeter
For it comes melting to your lips
Spread on the tips of my breasts
For your mouth to savor
Satisfying your sweet tooth tantrums

Speak my language
Hear with your body and soul
As I eloquently “speak” to you
Love understood, lived, celebrated

Yes, my love
Speak to me
In a language
I can understand

Eileen Manassian Ghali


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