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Passion Love Poems | Love Poems About Passion

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

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Details | Prose |

I Do Not Like PoemZoo-m dot com

I do not like poemzoo-m.com

This is only my opinion.
It is perfectly fine for me to have this opinion.
I am not breaking any rules/regulations by having this opinion.

PoemZoo-m.com is a sister-site of PoetrySoup.com,
which funnels the poems posted on PS onto the Zoo.
This offers poets more exposure.
On a business level, this sister-site generates ad-revenue
and creates a SEO back-link which helps PS ratings.

Now, more exposure and additional revenue towards a site which I enjoy using,
is a good thing.
Also, I agreed for the PS administration(TPS) to post my work "online" in other venues
every time I agreed to the Terms and Agreement clauses when posting a poem.
This isn't lost on me.

Wot else isn't lost on me, is that simply by posting on PS, my work can already
be printed, emailed, shared, linked all over the public domain.
So having my work funnelled over to the Zoo isn't really a big deal, is it?
No, it isn't.
Life goes on.

But it can lead to yet even more possibility of work being used without my permission
even with copyright stipulations/ownership.
Humbly, I am merely an amateur poet only beginning on my poetic journey.
I do not have illusions of grandeur.
It is a specific crowd that enjoys(some lol)of my work. 
I am definitely not everyone's cup of tea.
Yet, I have been approached(on another poetry site where I have been a member 
for years, a non-profit site which doesn't run ads, doesn't offer premium membership; 
this site exists for the sake of art itself. The owner runs it for free by donation)by musicians/producers/composers, to collaborate some of my work, turn it into music.
Some of my work has since been put to score, performed live, and is being recorded 
in studio.
I am lucky and thankful that I was asked for permission to have my work used.
This is not always the case.
Some of my work, and possibly some of your work even, is being used without your 
permission.
It is very easy to print a poem and 'accidentally' cut-off the author's name.
Just as an example.
Yes, you can fight for your copyright, but this can be an extended, energy-consuming
and frustrating experience.

So here is poemzoo-m.com, a site to "look for that perfect poem".
There is no 'live' submit field. Poems are funnelled from this site.

When I first joined PoetrySoup.com nearly four years ago,
the site was much more closed and intimate.
There have been many changes since.
Embedded links were added so poems can be shared and linked all over the internet.
As these changes were added, I began deleting specific poems because of this,
poems which I had/have intentions of taking to the next level professionally.

Now that poemzoo-m.com is up and running, I will be deleting even more poems.
For many different reasons.
I don't mind having certain 'oldies' up for sentimental reasons,
nor do I mind having specific tribute poems up(as an example).
Even though poemzoo-m.com offers more amateur exposure,
and this can be seen as a positive thing,
I do not want more of that amateur exposure.

Just because the owner of PS is covered by the legal jargon of the terms and 
agreements, within my sometimes far too altruistic mind-set,
it would have been respectful, polite and professional for the owner of PS to have 
first given a heads-up beyond just the legal jargon;
to have transcended the legal jargon and formally asked poets for their permission;
to have at least had polls and blog discussions first.

By not doing so, the PoetrySoup.com has blatantly moved away from the original 
"family-of-poets" setting, as exemplified between 2005 - 2010, and is now acting as 
a corporation. The world is already unravelling because of corporations, because of 
the corporate legal jargon which protects business over rights and moral codes.

Again, legally, the owner of PS has done nothing wrong.
The extra exposure might benefit some poets.
Simply put, I was not formally asked for my input or permission
to have my work funnelled to a sister-site, BEYOND the cold legal jargon
found in the Terms and Agreements of this site.
Also, having the choice to opt-out(a box/toggle to click in member area, etc)would be 
great. If the sister-site generates ad-revenue, it doesn't matter if my poems show-up
there or not, the ad-revenue will come in with general traffic.
Traffic is wot is obviously desired. 
The traffic will be there regardless if certain people's poems show-up or not, 
or if people uber-post two-word poems.

Since there isn't such an option(as of yet), I will simply continue deleting poems,
because I am not an animal to be shipped from Zoo to Zoo as an exhibit display
against my own freedom of choice.
__________________________________________________________________


*EDIT*

Since this posting, TPS has added a toggle option in the member area
so that Premium Members can choose if their poems are shown on PZ or not.
I am glad to see this implemented. Good choice, TPS.
________


You say you want a revolution
Well, you know
We all want to change the world
You tell me that it's evolution
Well, you know
We all want to change the world
But when you talk about destruction
Don't you know that you can count me out
Don't you know it's gonna be all right
All right, all right

You say you got a real solution
Well, you know
We'd all love to see the plan
You ask me for a contribution
Well, you know
We're doing what we can
But when you want money
For people with minds that hate
All I can tell is brother you have to wait
Don't you know it's gonna be all right
All right, all right
Ah

Ah, ah, ah, ah, ah...

You say you'll change the constitution
Well, you know
We all want to change your head
You tell me it's the institution
Well, you know
You better free you mind instead
But if you go carrying pictures of chairman Mao
You ain't going to make it with anyone anyhow
Don't you know it's gonna be all right
All right, all right
All right....


Written by Lennon-McCartney, 1968
Rights owned by the Michael Jackson Estate



Details | Free verse |

Love Poem - 29

Every day, I fall in love with something new,
while maintaining the love I have already found.

I fall in love with scars, wrinkles,
redundancies and repetition,
items that people throw into the wind,
kick around and step upon.

I fall in love with my enemies,
one of life's hardest lessons to learn.
I find haters to be marvelous motivators.

Every day, I fall in love with something new,
while reinforcing the love I have already found.

The old man who sits in a rain-filled gutter,
seemingly oblivious to the water sluicing down the hill,
splashing against his clothes -
fists raised up to the heavens in fury
as he talks to an invisible audience
about how Apollo stole his dearly beloved wife....

....I fell in love with him too.

I fall in love with things that some people deem as insignificant,
ugly, morose, dirty and immoral.
The more I fall in love, the more I love each passing moment,
including the pain, torture and misery that may appear along the way.

If I write down treasonously treacherous words,
the reader could assume such words to be rooted in rage
or a cynical outlook. But the words are actually born out of love -
I love every single word in existence.

Every day, I fall in love with something new,
while still maintaining the love I have already found.

I fall in love with the woman 
who is too shy to have a proper conversation with anyone,
because she believes herself to be very ugly,
when in fact, she is an exquisitely gorgeous woman.

I fall in love with broken daffodils, bent daisies,
a shattered seashell, the sweet stench of rotting seaweed on the shore,
the way her hair smells baking in the sun.
I fall in love with black and white photographs,
hypnotized by the essence the dead have left behind.
I fall in love with marbles, the feathers of mourning doves,
and with the stray cat who after watching the moving truck drive away,
slunk around the alley in search of scraps -
over the years, she has proven to be
a most respectful and loyal animal.
I fall in love with saints, villains, rusted watering cans,
the way sunlight bends into prisms when it shines
through the cracked antique windowpane
which I simply cannot find the presence to replace.


And as for the people who think that my love is a whole
different spectrum of emotions,
or how it is impossible for someone like myself
to fall in love with something new, every, single day....

....well, I love them too.





April 6th, 2012


Details | I do not know? |

....“The Title ^Fight”....

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Leaning against the ropes, eyes swollen half closed

Its been a long fight....

Blood dripping from a dislocated jaw

Body beaten and bruised; taking a few more blows

Crowd screaming; colourful figures; cloudy sight?!

Knocked down a few times but, not counted out yet

Not yet; still standing to catch a second wind.... ~

My foe is fierce and relentless, the best in the world

This worlds, undisputed heavyweight champ

At least over most of Humanity; never lost a fight to the faithless!?

Been the prince of his ring for thousands of years....

Almost had them carry me out; flat upon my back, in the early rounds

Until the undefeated “One,” showed up and volunteered to become

“My Corner ^Man.” ~

Been doing somewhat fair since yet, still, a tad bit fuzzy in my head....

Absorbing blows amid a fight like this but, I Am, still standing

And I get my punches in also; sometimes, I even win a round or two?!

My corner Man said; “The Real Champ.” ~

"Just wait for the right time, he'll open up, and when he does

Then, put him on his back; hit him with a left and a quick right

Another left another right and then, use your cut....

....I promise you, I shall gladly count him out, for you ~

Just hang on, we've got him, right, where, we want him!?"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

              ....“The Title ^Fight”....


Details | Free verse |

Afterglow

Momentary lapses of shyness 
within pretentiousness the size of a non-la-hat 
offering shade from your sweltering Sun, 
confused the boy still residing beneath an exterior 
of brashness. A wooing of rose or lotus petals?
Did she not enjoy such frivolity? Wot of a bard
letting words slide through the air like silk,
for I didn't possess such romantic poetry.
____


No, I embarked upon a journey of false-heroism,
took a bullet, figured it to shape me into a man.
I showed off the wound, blood soaking through the bandages -
you seemed far from impressed by this display of stupidity.
Yet you played coy,
bending over, letting sunlight play through a thin summer dress,
highlighting inner thighs, lines arching up into a dome of dizzy-delirium
so sensual it almost appeared sinful.

At night you'd undress before a naked window,
letting shadows flirt across moonlit dew.
It was all I could do to keep eyes averted,
instead, living on dreams of unwrapping gifts
under the influence of feverish waves,
even though I never forgot to take quinine.

And after all the games, 
I had only to stay still long enough for you to complete another sketch,
take its lines, breathe together a new poem,
unleashing torrents of words into my ear.
A funny sort of unconventional, tactile courtship.
You wanted me to listen, to test my patience,
and once your head was emptied out,
heat arose from the bloom, enveloping me in soft petals,
vanquishing my fever, with a different feverish embrace.
Your eyes almost felled me with their complexities
of virginal innocence and a whorish lust. The thrusts,
lips and fingers, the blended push-pull of rhythm and wild abandon
caused me to lose myself long enough,
to find your soul drifting alongside my own,
amongst the stars that had always been shining.
Amongst the light already written before our birth.












June 2nd, 2012


Details | Personification |

I Look To the Moon

I look to the Moon, hanging aloft
Among the clouds so milky soft.
How must it feel, so high above?
So chilled and bleak and void of love.

Collapsed and sunken are his eyes,
Dark and deep as the onyx skies.
As the Moon shies from the sun,       
I share no love with anyone.

The Moon is alone, without affection.
In its grim face is my reflection.
Inside my heart, the longing grows,
And rots my soul, a sickly rose.

While I look beyond this cage,
I clench my fists; they shake with rage.
I desperately stare above,
Wishing to fly, free as a dove;
For release from the troubled heart I claim,
To be finally rid of the madness and shame.
                                      
Although reprieve is found in song,
To no one does my soul belong.
In music, may the pleas be spoken,
But all in vain; the heart is broken.
                            
The Sphere returns, begins to sigh.
We are not so different, You and I.
So twisted and fractured is the White Stone.
We both have no one; We are both all alone.


Details | Free verse |

A Cinderella Story

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

“Simon, I have something to say unto you. There was a certain creditor

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Whom had two debtors. One owed five hundred denarii, and the other fifty.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

And when they had nothing with which to pay he freely forgave them both.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Tell Me, therefore, which of them shall love him more?”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
   
Simon answered and said, “I suppose the one whom he forgave more.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

He said to him, “You have rightly judged.” He then turned to the woman and  
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Said to Simon, “Do you see this woman? I entered your house, you gave Me

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

No water for My feet, but she has washed my feet with her tears and wiped them

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

With the hair of her head. You gave me no kiss, but this precious woman

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Has not ceased to kiss My feet since I came in. You did not anoint My head 

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

With oil, but this priceless woman has anointed my feet with fragrant oil.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Therefore I say unto you, her sins, which are many, are forgiven, for 

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

She loved much. But to whom little is forgiven, the same loves little.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

And He said to her, “Your sins are forgiven...Your faith has saved you. 

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Go in peace.” ~ “A Cinderella Story” ~


Details | Free verse |

Pulse

Inner conflict dissolves under your lunar eclipse
playing across my fingertips and lips 
tracing the hoodoo of your hips,
causing me to burn down into cinder-sticks
reborn as a Baton Rouge Phoenix
by the gravitational pull of Jupiter
orbiting in your eyes.

Rising above the ashes,
siphoning-off the swamp,
I collide in a slippery mudslide
of euphoria, until steam blows off
and only spring water remains
raining upon soil sprung apart
by the Trident of Hermes,
exposing for us naked iron
to place into a flame
dancing along liquid-skin language.

The extraction of you being the exception,
leaves behind a hole
to bury our fortresses of tragedy
grappling in our roots;
now broken-apart by our roots,
until the last crumbling stone 
sprouts into untainted sheaths -
rigid - yet willing to bend

with the mending currents
of change. Becoming cleaner within, 
hanging onto a truth to be found 
in the wholesome speck of dirt 
longing for my fingertips and lips
to feel the hoodoo in your hips;
a complementary dish of duality
alongside your whispers bleeding 
into the blood-waves of my heart
merging with your lunar pulse.






.


Details | Rhyme |

Hoping You Can Feel Me

I sit alone and I think of you, hoping you can hear me
If I close my eyes just before I sleep, I can see you more clearly
Even where I am now, where everything is dark
I can feel you here beside me, gently tugging at my heart!

Anxiously, I wait to hear a precious word or two
Something to let me know you feel me as much as I feel you
I take the blame and apologize for these nights I have denied you;
But this gives me time to love your mind before I lay beside you!

Let me take away your pain; wipe away your tears and guide you
Let’s make love by pen and paper before I meld with you
I hope my words don’t sound too strong but passion has no fear
Each breath I breathe like ecstasy that has built up during this year!

There is no cure for what I feel it’s just the pain that ails me
All prescription meds from the medical doctors have failed me;
And I know this is a lot to take in but I mean each word sincerely
This hungry letter sent with love and passion hoping you can feel me! 

Note:  Written for Audrey Carey's Sentimental Love Letters" Contest


Details | Free verse |

let sacred delirium flow

(in-between wakefulness and dreaming, in-between free verse and prose....it flows - I wouldn't trade it for candy-coated couplets, nor silky sonnets set in cities of gold, for my delirium is uninhibited, unhinged, freely flowing) delirious non-linear shutter-frames capture us over there, here now, before - a nuance, a taste on the tip of my tongue leading me towards need without a name nor face. Prying open other people to see if you were inside. Searching for a known desire with an unknown label, to find something never actually lost - to make it more palpable - closer. Crawling out of my skin, out of my skull, slinking through invisible trees, you appear: a jungle cat licking my mind - you always made love to my soul first, before enticing me with a liquid growl off-set by the pitter-patter of paws and purring. Your purr, your velvet purr rumbles for my submission. Willingly I accept the invitation of vulnerable humility bowing towards a fearless trust lush with a luminary borderless meshing, catching up to right now. - Right now - Your black-light curvaceous muscled trembling licks my mind, my body, my hands and mouth glide across your skin, testing the earth for stability. The tectonic plates of my belly quake resettle within your womb. Inside-outside, outside-inside a lotus-soul union, just as ancients had hinted, dissolving, letting you devour me, before I drink from your salty grail. Over-stimulation leads to an un-thinking deep rhythm, waves pushing out - in until the shoreline and tides become indistinguishable, a backdrop to a pace quickening. Outside-inside of you, you are outside-inside of me, there is no longer the need to fear unknowns, for the unknown guides us higher, guides us ever deeper, until even our release merges with the flow of ancient rippling rhythm. .


Details | Free verse |

Hermaphrodite - Part III


?Just a stutter-step, and I over-think it?

I ask you how are we breathing underwater?
The question is the shadow of a nightmare
appearing as an Octopus -
its tentacles wrap around us,
dragging us towards the edge of an abyss.

I tear open my rib-cage,
I am fever, high-temperature fever,
licking the Octopus with the tongues of my heat.
It lets go, retreats into a crevice.
You are swallowing water with the fear in your eyes.
I shouldn't have asked that specific question -
brought it into existence.

I kiss you, push breath into your lungs.

Upon seeing figure-eights wash away your doubt,
I am now suddenly breathless.
You give me back breath to breathe,
offering us strength to breach the surface.

The Ocean is Sky; Sky is the Ocean,
Night is Day; Day is Night.
?Is this flying, or walking upside-down. Sideways?

"Look down there, can you see the Evergreen tree?" I ask.

You say nothing. Just breathe. The fear is gone from your eyes.

I close my eyes, open my eyes, 
close my eyes, open my eyes.
There is no difference, a shutter-frame of eternal passages.
We have done this before                             somehow,
flown through the doors of deja vu.

"The tree doesn't need to be sacrificed into paper.
But, if cut down, at least spread its seeds."

Why did I say that? It felt so natural.

Waves. Surging, vibrating waves.
Now, it is flesh for feeling,
breath on breath,
an elevation of sheer simplicity within sweat.
I can barely contain myself,
but when I do, again, my belly becomes an earthquake,
unleashing seismic waves
from the centre of my core....

Hermaphrodite
_____________________


Even though you already appear to be sleeping,
I feel you awake inside,
but so calm                       peaceful.

We breathe, exhale, inhale,
your body gently pushes against my chest and belly....

....before I fall asleep,
I spy the Cardinal hopping along the branch of an Evergreen tree




.


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