These Passion Sonnet poems are examples of Sonnet poems about Passion. These are the best examples of Passion Sonnet poems written by international PoetrySoup poets
A yearning for affection and romance
can cause one’s getting scorched by passions’ flame.
Love blooms if it is given a fair chance,
but some attempt to play the scoundrel’s game!
A tender soul can be bamboozled by
the man who has an inner soul of ice.
The love that he professes is his lie,
and cherishing himself alone - his vice.
The one he lured will struggle to maintain
her doomed relationship with him; she’s torn!
The taste of love once sweet turns into pain,
for what she offers is returned with scorn.
Abominations always will exist.
Take care one's not a scoundrel you have kissed!
For Dictionary fun....#1...Delilah's Words! Poetry Contest
Dancing around a cauldron fire
to the sounds of a golden lyre
and a bubbling brew
of bat and shrew
caught in the cobbled rain
they release their heat and pain
into the darkening world
while your senses become unfurled
to herbs and secret balms
and your beating heart calms
into a sensuous trance
as you join in the dance
of turning, swirling,
death defying twirling
seduced by flickering flames
you lose time and names
of bad or good
must and should
spiraling into a peace
to find your heart's release
through this dervish portal
ever after an immortal
in the dance.
My sweetest love hearest thou my advice
Let's leave for the garden of sweet paradise
We will live under a rainbow with cherries
Eat sweet mangoes and bright berries;
Build a cottage in its midst with a skylight
Bake gingerbread as the sunsets at twilight
Shower in the misting rain on our lawn
Sing sweet songs with the birds at dawn;
Make fireflies’ lanterns soothing our mood
The ravens will bring us nourishing food
The sparrows will build our resting nest
Oh my love—my darling, my earnest:
Together we will wish upon a shining star,
And from each other we shall never be far!
© Revised 5/31/10
© All Rights Reserved
5th Place Winner - Parody Poetry Contest.
Sponsored by Dr. Ram Mehta, 6/10/2010
Joseph S. Spence, Sr., is the author of "The Awakened One Poetics" (2009), which is
published in seven different languages. He invented the Epulaeryu poetry form, which
focuses on succulent cuisines and drinks. He is published in various forums, including the
World Haiku Association; Poetinis Druskininku, Milwaukee Area College, Phoenix Magazine;
Möbius Poetry, and Taj Mahal Review to name a few. Joseph is a Goodwill Ambassador for
the state of Arkansas, USA, a college faculty, and a military veteran.
The sun caresses my skin on this hot summers day.
It would be wonderful for a slight rain to splash on my
skin in such a way.
I should love it if a cool breeze came floating by.
Time seems to be going by slowly these days.
I hear the words whispered from his lips.
"Don't go all shy on me now".
As his fingertips caress the length of my spine.
We lay naked on the top of the summer meadow.
A kiss on the lips, a kiss on the hips.
I seen the cranes fly, as I moved to his touch.
They flew from the edge of the pond, below us.
As we were spread out on the large quilt.
High on the peak, I with my book of prose.
Him, with his glistening body dripping beads of sweat.
I've come to these's highlands since I could remember.
This place was a staple of my childhood, in fact , this
mountain hilltop belonged to my grandparents.
His words rolled on the slight movement in the air.
" Be still", "it was our little game we played".
As he traced the nap of my neck with his tongue
And found his way to my lips, our tongues entwined
like ivy on the forest walls.
We had been friends since the age of twelve.
That's when his parents bought the adjoining land.
You taste like sweet mountain honey, " all mine".
He knew his touch inflamed my senses, as finger
tips caressed his muscles, as nails pierced his skin.
He knew he drove me crazy, as I drifted into bliss.
Though still fully aware of his every touch, every
rhythm of our heartbeats kept tempo with our inferno lust.
His every touch reminded me why I kept coming back for
the summer vacations, besides my grandparents being old.
In fact this would be the last two days of summer pleasure.
I wouldn't want to lose my editing job, back in the city.
I felt his eager body quiver as we moved together in time.
As he pressed his hips against mine, it was all I could do.
Lovely woman, you are my summers favorite delight !!!
Jan. 7, 2013 monday 10pm
I haven't written one like this in about five years.
Thought I'd give it a try .
I've been dreaming of a sonnet in the cradle of the breeze
I've been dreaming in the silence of her feathered nest of dream
perched in peaceful solitude autumn falls with golden leaves
where hymn's flow free within a quest along the winding stream
Has my presence ever crossed your mind in lonely nights of need
of placid love refined in gold where one desires thee
a place where time has come to stall of gifts of love and deed
in lust I wait in colors of spring for her my sweet jubilee
In last breath fare of desperate need my eyes have finally seen
my fair young lady from distant hallow floating near within my dream
I hear her voice in loving song with tales of gifts foreseen
with silken wings she flutters free to rest along pure stream
I've been dreaming of a sonnet in the cradle of the breeze
I've been dreaming in the silence far beyond the graceful trees..
Your mounted passion climbs, and I’m replete
With glow, to open mouth of eve-song’s fire
Inside your breath, as tender glances heat,
Embracing this and that; lanterns conspire.
Fingers trace our names among hungry stars,
Deepening blaze of love and quest for time,
And twilight warms one breath to yield afar
Thus, giving way to lip-kissed hours sublime.
We taste the wine of affection with grace
As rising dawn acknowledges our rites,
For passion is supreme, in dream’s embrace
On heady walks where laughter pure excites.
Until one day, a farewell drowns our lore
When moments strayed as endings, nevermore.
~Inspired by Meatloaf's Song with the theme
on the polarity of passion( expressed through love,
romance and devotion), and the indifference from
such by parting in the end.
Songs to Poetry of Debbie Guzzi
by nette onclaud)
Press not to flaming lips your tepid kiss
Touch not this burning form with hands of ice
A lukewarm love can never bring to bliss
Nor will indifferent love for me suffice
Seek not with obligation to appease
Perfunctory in making love to me
Disdain is what I feel for “gifts” as these
Tis better far, my dear, to let me be
For if you not assess my heart aright
And think me one to faint with weak caress
You’ve not been seared by passion’s burning might
Nor tasted honeyed dreams that I undress
Hope not to bed me with halfhearted plea
With love obsessive, take a hold of me
Eileen Manassian Ghali
You my love with a tender caressing touch.
I wait the seconds, minutes of eagerness.
Sweet feeling upon when our lips press.
Tastes of our tongues swirling so much,
Enhancing sensual ways that we clutch,
Our bodies and souls share such finesse.
Each time together, never any repress.
Our love is bound we have no crutch.
Everything I adore about you is mine.
Our souls entwined in sweet Bordeaux.
We climax together as wonderful wine.
We have captured charismatic glow.
As we share each other’s passion fine.
Passing seasons continue as we sow.
Through darkness there comes a stealthy hand
Here, what shadows of man could be so bold?
The eyes of a hunter reckoning land
Into the deep hollows, constant and cold
Companion of solitude, patient stone
He is the seeker of winds, and of scent
By the trees yonder, he waits not alone
His aim is true, and his purpose unbent
Yet, death will not bring a smile to his lips
Nor a lift unto his wayfaring heart
In grief he is fed, from silence he sips
And from the old woods, he shall never part
The hunt will remain for those who pursue
a life that no death could ever undo
I’ve learned lips can blossom under a sigh,
A hand will lift for a kiss to its palm,
Hours pass slowly; some walls are so high,
Sweet sin, come again! Replace this chaste calm.
Eyes, remain shut, there is no passion here,
Choose to daydream, recall each of those charms,
Cold sun, leave now, let the first star appear
So I may return to his bed and arms.
Yearn, how I yearn, though fulfillment was mine,
Pierced and provoked, I’m beholden to thorn,
Succumbing, hearts waking as limbs entwined,
Rapture mouthed my name and I was reborn.
Farewell, innocence. Love does transpose.
Tame, no more. I have become the wild rose.
This poem was inspired by the JW Waterhouse’s painting, The Soul of the Rose. Please click on the about this poem link for a picture of the painting.
*** a Link to the painting: http://www.artble.com/artists/john_william_waterhouse/paintings/the_soul_of_the_rose