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Best Intimate Poems

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Don't stop! The most popular and best Intimate poems are below this new poems list.

An Intimate Itch by holmes, peter
THAT INTIMATE HAND by Gabru, Dawood
Intimate Encounter by Carroll, Ken
loves intimate kiss by junor, mark
The intimate structure of becoming by victor, marinescu
My Most Intimate Dream by Ellison, Jack
Intimate Sonnet by Parker, Frederic
Intimate Friendship by A. Sharma, Dr. Upma
INTIMATE RELATIONSHIPS MADE INTO A SONNET-with permission from Jan Allison by Smith, Tim
INTIMATE RELATIONSHIPS by ALLISON, JAN

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The Best Intimate Poems

Details | Intimate Poem | |

Sheol

Dark Knight-tress 

Underneath 
This gown I feel nothing
Silk less feelings
The odor of intimate apparel lessens 
Vanity fare from any sun
Warrior of beauty
Where have you gone?
A fortress of gloom
Not even death wants in
Black nail tips
Brownish plum lips

I close my eyes 
I see them all
The Shadows
Climbing over my soul
The darken deepens 
The stars dim my view
Irremovable makeup
Land becomes an enemy
I become
The Dark Knight-tress
Scolding my next victim

~S~

Copyright © SKAT A

More great poems below...


Details | Intimate Poem | |

From the Balcony

.


 Sometimes
 the undisturbed tranquility of twilight hours
 paralyzes life and motive
 with its sovereign emptiness.

 Sometimes
 the eloquence of silence captures me, 
 conquers any vestige of past pleasures,
 even those fugitive memories of ephemeral bliss.

 Sometimes
 a waft of fragrant lavender 
 whispers its dulcet voice from neighboring gardens,
 where children run to welcome daddies.

 Sometimes
 the woman walks with innocent lilt 
 to exchange a kiss for an intimate caress,
 through the glass of their kitchen.

 Sometimes
 I think of destiny and serendipity,
 with languor in my eyes, in my quiet spirit,
 who dreams mirages expecting miracles.

 Sometimes 
 life flows downward
 widening regrets, but I don't longer cry.
 I accept the splendor of inertia, its effervescent agony.

 Sometimes
 nightfall comes slowly
 and remains indifferent about
 a new day less.




(Fictional)








   




Copyright © Ruben O.


Details | Intimate Poem | |

When He Came

I waited for him as the soldier comes
With a beating of drums and trumpet call;
But he arrived instead with a quiet tread
That my ears never heard at all.

I thought he would come like the blazing sun
And claim me for his bride;
But in the soft twilight of a starlit night
He stood there at my side.

I thought he would come as loud thunder
That shouts to the midnight skies;
Instead he came as a whisper
And the finger of love touched my eyes.

I dreamed of the fire that shone in his eye
Might give mine a more tender glow;
But I saw in his face a more intimate grace
That I discovered not long ago

I thought he would come in the tumult
Of ten thousand voices in song;
Instead he came in soft silence
And brought me to where I belong.

I hoped would come to incite my soul
As seas are split by storm's strife;
But he brought me balm of a sublime calm
And tranquility that crowned my life.

Copyright © elizabeth wesley


Details | Intimate Poem | |

The Miller Girls: Now Presenting

Inside our parents’ bedroom by the door,
our sister Jenny played the old piano.
From all of us a melody would soar
in varying degrees of voice soprano.

A high soprano Jennifer would sing
as pretty Melanie would sing along.
The house with lovely harmony would ring
when I and Dori “seconded” the song.
For church we’d often render “Silent Night.”
Our tiny congregation made such fuss
as if we were four angels in their sight,
and Mom would fairly swoon with pride for us.

Of whims that took no flight I am lamenting;
Mom’s dream, “The Miller Girls . . . now presenting!”


 For Sonnet on an Intimate Relationship Poetry Contest:
My best intimate relationship began at home. My four lovely sisters, three of whom are mentioned here, will always be the greatest of my friends.

Copyright © Andrea Dietrich


Details | Intimate Poem | |

Tell Me a Sweet Lie

Tell me I'm the one, the love of your life.
It's not my fault you won't become my wife
I'll look in your eyes as I dream my dreams.
We can both pretend, it's not what it seems.

I know there's another who holds your heart.
I can't stand that it's ripping mine apart.
So I will take this, just one more night.
Hold me and rock me, till the morning light.

My pain is to great, please whisper sweet lies.
My brain knows what my Heart can't realize.
I'll give you freedom, please let me pretend.
I am not ready, for this love to end.

Tomorrow walk away, that is your chance
I will survive, if you give me one glance


Sonnet on an intimate relationship.

Copyright © Richard Lamoureux

More great poems below...


Details | Intimate Poem | |

Poetic Partner

Unconditional, I hide no longer.
His friendship touched me and made me stronger.
Never face to face, type to type on screen.
For his words I hunger, poetic feign.
Secrets exposed in a safe secure place.
His heart, my hands, a smile on each face.
We dance upon the keyboards in plain sight.
Entertaining you every single night.
Whether a duet or riding solo.
His warmth fills me where ever I go.
Only months has past but he is the best friend.
Strength in the beginning, never will end.

To my poetic partner, I dig you.
How I enjoy this dancing that we do.



For contest: Sonnet on intimate relationships
Sp. regina riddle
date 08-29-2014

Copyright © Casarah Nance


Details | Intimate Poem | |

Love

Love, Is that a word, Or the foundation of all mountains of speeches? Is love a whisper or an ejaculation? A prayer, or a plea? Why is it that love crescendos off the tongue Like caramel in symphony? Why does it melt me, As if by heaven God made me an iceberg, To later fall in the heat of destiny like my enemies? Love, Is it woman, Man? Is it the softness of your hand, Or the coarse scratch against a rocky sand? You say you love me so simply, genuinely What is it my mind cannot comprehend, As my eyes zoom in to your wanting lips, The almost anticipated sound saintly slips Love, A fraction to my experience, And a lifetime left of its dark and intimate peaks. . . In these mountains of words, How does one sleep? How shall we rest willingly in the dangerous unknown, With you and I alone? Love, I love you too.. How can I not when all of its footprints lead back to you? Love is as simple as the word yearning on your mouth As deep as the dark, undiscovered creatures of the sea Though, most of all, As far as I dare feel and see, As simple as it sounds, And God must well agree, Love is you and me

Copyright © Laura Breidenthal


Details | Intimate Poem | |

LOVE at FIRST SIGHT

Love was in the air when he laid eyes on her.
Childhood; elementary and even high school with her.
Walking towards her, he greeted her.
Anxiety spiraled as he hugged her.
Conversation grew deeper as he sat with her.
Wanting to get closer because he was falling for her.

Another woman called pausing the time he was having with her.
Knowing he had to answer; he stepped away and spoke to her.
She stated that something wasn't quite right with her.
She said that her stomach had been bothering her.
Now he's thinking back if he came inside her.
Thinking if she lied to him about her tubes being tied within her.

Does he blame himself for listening to her?
Knowing right from wrong and yet he can't blame her.
Does he blame the devil for allowing him to be intimate with her?
Is he not a human that makes mistakes just like her?
Begging God to make a way for him and her.
Asking God to forgive him for committing the sin with her.

God said, "relax my son, you were only dreaming of her."

Copyright © Pace INK-U-SCRIPT


Details | Intimate Poem | |

A twisted tale -Jane's Jewel-

Mardi Gras "The Medieval Story"  

On a hot, heavy night in Orleans,
Joan and Jane were seen rubbing chest on chest
An inviting, intimate moment, to undress
Two pretty trimmed tops, eating like dames
They touched in ways, that drove those who make war insane
The secret spilled before the sun sprawled across the floor

Medieval England, banging on iron set doors,
All around men and women, wanting to witness the whiplash 
Beads and beads of love, thrown at their feet
Joan' and Jane', having fun in front of, yesterdays courtyard
Sweet acts of flagellation were performed to stimulate the crowd
Screaming, and receiving, intense, brutal lacerations 
In the eyes of endless nudity, everything wet in between 
Left to right, a secluded society, dance in masquerade 
Two men rise and ravage Jane, from hip to hip
Join-in, was a Jouster, and Lord Johnsburg, 
They came in a little closer to claim, Joan
Closing, and inflicting as much damage as possible

Crestfallen forces of the unknown, -the audience grows
Remain firm and indulge this wet period of the Middle Ages,

The first crusade held stones in each hand, 
Applauding to neck the beauty of friends
A noose hanging high held no head on this day
Yelling to feel the pain perils of anguish, 
This was in reality the vassal of Jane
The King, ask to see them on their knees
Before he seeded, sending the Spanish tickler, 
Fetching for the finest skin
At her end, Joan, watched Jane, spread like never before
Perfumed skin, rising up in smoke, -Joan's final stroke
Left burning at the Stake, In a Medieval World, from hell
The Siege of Joan and Jane did not end well
 
A lonely Bard, now sits and sings a sadistic tale,
A tale, of dirty deeds, -a dancing bloody masquerade 
Joan and Jane, compensating for the Mardi Gras Parade

By: SKAT

Copyright © SKAT A


Details | Intimate Poem | |

Tell Me

I have heard, others talk about your god
He doesn't sound like a god I wish to know
Sitting in heaven high on his throne
While I'm left to suffer here all alone
Guilty of sins for which I must atone
I've called those television evangelists on the phone
Put my hands on the screen, as they gave god praise
Was that him working in mysterious ways?
They say he created everything in just six days
No wonder he needed a day of rest
He must be more exhausted with all the sins being confessed?
I myself could keep him busy for over a year 
You can't imagine what's on my chest
It goes even deeper compacted and pressed
So why? I ask why
Why do I need a god of fairy tales
Hung on a cross with nails
Him who is righteous 
and me who always fails
Tell me?
Yes tell me
I really want to know


I too would not want to know that god
Distant sitting on a throne
While we suffer all alone
Burdened by sins for which we can't atone
Confessing to some fraud on a telephone
I will let others sing their false praises
With their religiosity and New Age Crazes
Repeating pseudo wise lines and rehearsed phrases 
Placing unsuspecting seekers in guilded cages

I sit here and wonder
What is there for me to tell?
I have no magic spell
God isn't a product to sell
Let others try to argue and yell
I cannot convince you what to feel
You believing in God doesn't make Him real
He has always exisisted
Deeper than any feeling
Not just a fairytale
Abstract and appealing
He says "Come to me all you who are weary"
A God of compassion 
Not a "Big Bang Theory"
Because I know Jesus
I'm thankful and teary 
He has answers to question's that can't be answered by "Siri"

It's hard understanding  
a God you don't know 
When you feel tossed by life's waves to and frough 
Reach out your hand, my God won't let go
Look in my eyes
See God's reflection
With his heart I witness your perfection
You are not some evolutionary collection
Formed from cosmic dust or random selection
You are Loved that's why Jesus died for you
His love intimate
Freely given and true
Unearnable by things you think you have to do
He patiently knocks at your door and waits for you
if you open the door you will believe in Him too
I speak from my heart and these words are true

We each have our own truth is what I believe
Yours is original sin, Adam and Eve
Yet your God is intimate as well
One who Loved us even though we fell
I'll keep my mind open and wait for a sign
If he's real, perhaps one day He'll be mine
Give me your book
I'll read and test it line by line
Perhaps the water in my veins
Will turn into living wine
When with the King I dine!










This is a creative exercise between myself and my friend Eileen.
I've chosen to take on the persona of a non believer who is questioning.
I look forward to her response, it should make for an interesting conversation.

I put Eileen on the spot with this one by posting it before she viewed it.
Her creative process is different than mine and I should have respected that.
Eileen sent me some soup mails with some creative ideas which I have
weaved into my story. Thanks for the inspiration Eileen, we will take on
another collaboration soon.



Copyright © Richard Lamoureux


Details | Intimate Poem | |

Love's Amnesia

I’d almost forgotten what it feels like,
When you hug someone you love and instantly your knees get weak….

I’d almost forgotten what it feels like,
When someone whom you truly love looks deeps into your eyes and
Suddenly the rest of the world disappears….

I’d almost forgotten what it feels like
when someone you love kisses you on your lips and
suddenly you feel butterflies creeping in your stomach…

I’d almost forgotten what it feels like,
Getting intimate with someone and wishing it would never end
Wanting more…..

I’d almost forgotten what it feels like,
Being in love…

I’d almost forgotten what it feels like putting my feelings on paper
Until I remembered what it feels like Loving you…..

Dedicated to My Soul Mate....

Copyright © Marlies Agdomar


Details | Intimate Poem | |

Here, My Dear

Humble yesterday, your intimate memories are now
bearing false witness, following our demise. 
There are scattered whispers of a residential cloud 
nine, that I called my own after the storm. 
No myth could be written guiltier. 
For beyond this stable armor of masculinity, 
existed a worst case scenario that I had obtained. 

It is no fault of your own, to interpret me with the 
simplest guess, and yet, it would be the greatest 
therapeutic comfort, knowing that you recalled my 
brief torture. Here it reads. 

The cruelest servant was obviously day one. 
For as I showered in my own gloom, the clearest 
joy accepted no hint of my presence. 
The hours worked overtime to deplete every page 
of life, that bordered around this broken clockwork 
of loneliness. 

By now I merely existed by priorities merciless 
hand. As I forced myself upon my studies, there was 
no absence of absent guilt on call. 
I realized this inevitable misstep, the moment I 
stumbled into a single entity yet again. 
By the time I found a conscience to shave towards 
a better day, spring had already departed, 
and I was just beginning to exit sobrieties 
unbearable cliff. 

The cause to blame beyond myself was tempting;
to see the bewildered scene, as opposed to feeling 
its complex wounds. 
I yearned for this flood to cease constantly, in 
retrospect, prematurely. 
However, the suffering hadn’t pierced my spirit just 
yet. That cherry that ultimately left a mark on top 
was my sick eyes. 

Perhaps defined as the perfect fate for the already 
faltered, was my cluttered throat, which 
allowed no apologetic cliques to exist in air. 
The devil’s vomit that would not pause until 
more suffering regurgitated, and lastly, 
the mindful ache that vibrated at its own
intervals. 

Friends could sense the hell that plagued my 
sleep. So much that they offered their similar 
battles to my faint ears. 
I heard their souls, but never their hearts; only 
mine was selfish enough for that luxury, despite 
its hostile coma. But then, 5 months, 22 days, and 
4 afternoon hours later, another chapter was introduced, 
and it was entitled The Aftermath. 

The acceptance of what could only be formerly 
beautiful, came to be the answer that cured me. 
In the end, I was thankful for the inferno, and 
overjoyed that these words could be written from 
Solomon’s throne. 

Previous rose, as you open and fold these heartfelt 
abrasions, be mindful of these moments that are no
longer bleeding, but rather teaching, of those bullets 
that never truly miss. 

Copyright © Jiril Clemons


Details | Intimate Poem | |

12,045 Days ......(and counting)

My affirmation deceitfully severed
forever robbed by selfishness
Left to tackle life alone 
Tumbling in the wake of my dad's mess

He left when I was three 
The crevasse has increased for 33 years
Traded his life with us 
For another woman and a couple of beers

He wasn't there to pick me up
When I fell off of my bike 
To teach me how to fish 
Or enjoy a nature hike

Now I'm a father to my son 
Hoping not to make the same mistake
Living day to day on this lake of life
My son in tow through my own wake

It's been nine years and we're going strong 
Six more years with my son
That's more with him than I had with mine 
My son I guard in a web I've spun

A web of love, discipline, and nurture
Full of "I love you's" and "see ya in the morning"
A kiss before school and one before bed
Lots of playing, talking, reading, and singing

My son doesn't know the pain I feel 
To not know my dad in intimate ways
No hands to comfort me or words to heal
No dad in sight for 12,045 days.............................(and counting) 






------------------------------------------------------
My son and I have a great relationship and for this I am thankful......

Copyright © Abe Lopez


Details | Intimate Poem | |

Nights So Love-locked In Your Arms

Nights So Love-locked In Your Arms



Nights love-locked into your arms
breathing in all of your charms
A spell cast to set love ablaze
we lost into epic, romantic haze

You gave its greatest gift, bliss
thanking heaven I did not miss
The sweetest ever enduring kiss
in my dreams I often reminisce 

Rested within your lover's trust
heart's deepest desire, a must
Songs that sang us both asleep
memories we shall forever keep

Memories flood out this the best
love surviving each and every test!


Robert J. Lindley, 09-24-2014

note: Decided to share here my poem for today, a sonnet,
the one I write every day on paper for my darling wife.
This one being so tame and pg I can do this..
Hope you may enjoy reading this heartfelt write..
 She will read this after her 12 hour shift today at the 
hospital. I have high hopes she asks me to frame this
 one too. The "tames ones" she asks me to frame but 
never the very racey, so very deeply intimate  ones. lol
She demands those always stay private..

Copyright © Robert Lindley


Details | Intimate Poem | |

The First Flower I Chose

The First Flower I Chose


You were my rose, the first flower I chose
A beauty so fair, such shine in your hair
You I chose, the finest ever love rose
Asked on a dare, the prettiest girl there

Soon we wed, pretty flower graced my bed
Nights sent such bliss, heaven I did not miss
Flames in bed, want no other instead
Honey that kiss, love never was like this

Years together, in good and bad weather
Loving every night, touching sweet just right
Joy our weather, sweet kisses a feather
Sexy the sight, your naked body at night

My rose did cast, true love that did so last
I held so fast, to that ship's greatest mast

08-31-2014

Contest- Form Sonnet
Regina Riddle 
Contest Name , Sonnet on a Intimate Relationship 

Syllables Per Line:  10 10 10 10 0 10 10 10 10 0 10 10 10 10 0 10 10  
Total # Syllables:  140  
Total # Lines:  17  (Including empty lines)  
Total # Words:  114

Copyright © Robert Lindley


Details | Intimate Poem | |

Alien Abduction

Weightless upon a sea of black, ebony hugs your every curve. And you sense you are not alone, for something calls compellingly. A portal appears in the pitch, as shafts of light dispel the dark. And you feel like a Goddess with an aura of shimmering light. Color dripping drops of crimson, leaves a copper taste on your tongue. And secluded in the shadows, fear flickers in and out of thought. Fingers caress body and soul, not as a master strokes a pet. But like an intimate lover, arousing passion through touch. He hides behind his shield of dreams, so each night you’re taken back home. And you awaken unaware, that alien abductions are real.

Copyright © Emile Pinet


Details | Intimate Poem | |

Dancing with Joan Jett

Dancing with Joan Jett
Dancing close with Joan Jett is so wild, it’s 1989 and we go head to head. I’m the teen kid by the juke box and she is my wet dream in black leather, one foot in front of me. Pure bloody ecstasy. Garage music blares out of the speakers and we spin around, my arm catching her waist. Closer we draw; a kiss. First of many. 
Joan and Nick. Who would have thought it? Rock n roll music heroine meets a Lancashire lad in an intimate spit and sawdust gig venue in a nameless town. It happened, was happening now. 25 July 1989. A day before I was eighteen. 
By chance I got her gig ticket, last minute rush. Left my crap job and mental northern town and took the train to see Her, Joan Jett. My teen rock goddess singing live. How many guys wanted a piece of her? And a few gals too. Black leather, boots and an awfully short skirt...
And that black hair. Joan looked like a Goth. Her music wasn’t as dark and was more accessible. Darkness would come later, lots of it. 
For now, I danced close with Joan Jett. My head in her hair, eyes shut. Holding her like there was no tomorrow. Another kiss and I was smitten. No one would ever believe me, if I told them: ‘Hey, I danced close with Joan Jett. And we kissed...’
Never mind what happened later... that’s our secret. Yes I still do love her, am in love... 
...with Joan Jett.

Copyright © nick armbrister jimmy boom semtex


Details | Intimate Poem | |

A Glimpse Within - I

The salt water
baubles washes
gently
upon the jetty sent
from lands distant.
Pushed by a hovering
yellow moon,
sometimes built into
thunderous waves
		of hurricanes.
Change comes rapidly
and dangerously
as the sea meets
yesterday coming
back.
It speaks to me and
it does say,
I give no quarter
and furthermore
              I ask
for none.
As I stare outward
at the placid waters
I feel heaviness
deep inside my
chest.
The sea has become
humanity to me,
With its powerful
and hushed rage,
		not seen before.
Heretofore I have
been persuaded
by wanderlust to
skim the surface,
to walk on by time
without end,
miss nothing that
may be something.
		I linger here.
The moon is playing
peek-a-boo,
reflection on the
water seems sad.
Stories are to be
told, perchance
to a much lesser
degree of now.
               But
not yet.
Ink-black dark, I
cannot see;
even Luna appears
quite uneasy.
The peaceful lapping
of water
distresses me; I
don't know why.
		Devouring soul?
So tranquil you
could hear a
tear drop, or a
salamander fart.
My nose detects an
exotic odor
Arabian sand carried
by wind.
               Wind
words. 
I squat on the rock
jetty,
look for ghosts;
probe my own.
My intimate séance
annoys
what I have kept
concealed..
		I see what I see.
The serene sea is a
patient anomaly,
so serene I fear
there are things
unsaid.
The night bitter
black when moon
hides,
I sense an
oppressing evil
attributed
		to dreams.

Copyright © Race Benoit


Details | Intimate Poem | |

ITS OVER

IT’S OVER
It hurt for me to let her go
But i have let her to know
We just can’t together grow

I love so much to say quit
I hate to see us away split
Our love now a close crypt

I can say it’s over so immediate
Because we were once intimate
Don’t want to break her heart for hate

Copyright © OJOBO EMMANUEL


Details | Intimate Poem | |

ABC Love Poem

                            ~My Trip With Love~

A arrival from Montreal to San Francisco seeing my son and his children.
B beautiful red roses on my approach expressing their love towards me. 

C for caring to have an eye contact honoring my motherly devotion & fidelity.
D for dreams come true when i sleep at night in my own studio. 

E for enjoy having our breakfast first day while exchanging our life time stories.
F for faithfulness towards one another was so important since his childhood.

G good friends who invites me to their homes to meet their families.
H for happiness when I run to the restaurant help greett his customers at work.

I interfering with my sons life is a long forgotten issue, a perpetual respect . 
J for jokes we exchange together through evenings laughing endlessly.

K kissing me good night when the night is over for me to retire.
L for love that I get from both of them when I cook an oriental dish.

M morning ride on a tour with family & soft music while driving.
N for never do I complain about any subject when shared together. 

O older, but I don't let them feel my arthritis pains when I am visiting. 
P for pictures are taken as souvenirs from this fabulous journey once a year 

Q quite evenings when I leave my son and wife to have an intimate night.
R for roll up my sleeves to clean their home to amaze them out of love.

S surprise when home from work to a house clean & table set for dinner. 
T transport for me is the subway my independence not to bother him.

U unique love between a son and mother, he is my rock. Best friends.
V variable outings touring the city while discussing his children's future.

W wanting those happy days to last forever. But will return next year. 
X xylophone for enjoying the music of our last dinner together.

Y yearning from my depth to have wanted my stay to last longer.
Z zone when we said farewell at the end of the visitors area. Tears of joy.
Visiting my sons once a year is my dream come true forever. The love for my children has always been, "The Endless Love Of A Child".

Therese Bacha
. 28/5/2013

 An ABC poem :For Alfred Vassello

Copyright © Therese Bacha


Details | Intimate Poem | |

A moment in time

A moment in time..

I saw you across the room the other day,
Much like another time when you held my gaze,
Pulling me in with one passing glance
Our longing eyes betraying thoughts, that this might be another chance
This is crazy I thought, we both surmised and laughed.
Looking away, looking back again, can anyone else see what’s going on?
This moment of desire shared between you and me,
Embracing the what ifs and what would be?
Two strangers living separate lives, intertwining paths in space and time
Connecting in ways we could not explain
The thought of one touch occupying all senses
Haunted by the what could have been
If I would have been, the one to say I do
We recently shared a moment in awkward conversation
Trying to be informal and coy,                                                                                           But what we really wanted was to
Wrestle with the deep mysteries of each other.   
The woman in you celebrating the man in me
The man in me praising the woman in you, the beauty of you
With your long hair and misty eyes, just something about the way
You look at me, makes my body leap inside, and weep at the same time.

Where were you from? What was your name?
The love from my youth is one and the same,
Has it been that long? Forbidden romance lost in memory
Something of a glimpse captured in remembrance,
Yes! You found me in my misery long ago
Wanting to love me out of a misguided childhood,
Only to be met with at the time, a beautiful mess
We shared intimate conversation, falling for one another
As words fell from our lips, an exchange of hopes and dreams
We fulfilled a need in one another, drying tears from each other’s eyes
For a season,
But momentum drove us on separate paths, on distant shores
I watched you fade away, like a fog across the bay.

Do I have regrets and will I have regrets?
Sure I do, and yes I will,
I didn’t have the words to tell you then, what pride refused to say,
That you meant more to me than handholds on a treacherous mountain,
That your tenderness broke through layers of bitterness left untouched,
And that now, like before you shake the foundations of my very being,
Only you have been able to reach me there.
Shall we embrace this forbidden love? Build a future out of broken lives?




You have yours and I have mine, what will become of us if we pursue?
Sometimes true love is never meant to be shared, if it decimates 
The only thing you know to be true, what is real and what is now
And the impact a dream can have.
So when I see you now, at least for the moment I can believe and know
Your okay and that life has treated you well and that you’re happy,
We can find peace in our circumstances, the way we found each other again.
And smile remembering that once we shared a moment in time..

Copyright © Angel fire


Details | Intimate Poem | |

FATAL ATTRACTION

FATAL ATTRACTION
-------------------------
His lucent light illumines her eyes
His face outshines the sun
His ethereal beauty unveils the skies
Her vibrant vision swiftly succumbs

Her silenced tongue, his intimate touch
His intangible hands sliding/slithering
Spiraling down with a gentle glide
Her body cold and shivering 

His fiery eyes ignite a flame
Her attention he gains as she stares
Their lips entwine, his blissful rapture
Devours her heart from cares

Encapsulated, she can't escape
He clutches her in his arms
Her safe haven, her wedded love
His pearl preserved from harm

Her beating heart, a decelerate speed
Her aperture devoid of breath
His succulent waters drown her tongue
Compelling her closer to death

Solitary seclusion, her world in diffusion
Subverts her mind, subtracts her understanding
He gains her trust, thrusting utter confusion
Rest assuring her of a safe landing

She drowns herself to ceaseless sleep
In his grasp from detouring distractions
At her beauteous site, he rejoices and weeps
Absorbed in her FATAL ATTRACTION

Copyright © Leonard Gage


Details | Intimate Poem | |

CHERISHED

Perhaps when the last bough has sailed away
And I stand here alone on twilight's plea,
I will remember each and every day
When gentle eyes kissed fears so tenderly.

I cherished our seasons through pain or shine
You opened love’s vessel to catch dawn’s tide ,
More than a father, a gift of lifetime
Until night cuddled wisps of your last glide.

A thankful song brings memories’ relief
Defining not what life is all about,
So sing with angels and take flight so brief
And will my wings to climb without a doubt.

This breath now calm on our hometown's lagoon
A journey far where your face lights the moon.




Regina Riddle's Contest:
Sonnet On An Intimate Relationship



 

Copyright © nette onclaud


Details | Intimate Poem | |

TRUE LOVE WINS

A man could never love a woman more 
And to see her hurting rocks him to the core
But through the pain she finds her smile 
Oh, the beauty of her face
Like a warm, intimate embrace 
Charming him is just her style
She is his life
His amazing grace

So she leans in to kiss him tonight 
She's holding all their memories 
Of what a life its been
True love wins!

They could never explain the feelings held inside
Of their forever love that has no goodbyes
So, even in night they find the day
In difficulty they don't despair
No matter what comes together they'll share 
This is simply Jim and Betty's way
This is their life.. This is their prayer

So he leans in to kiss her tonight 
He's holding all their memories 
Of what a life its been
True love wins!

This crazy, messed up world 
Is growing more absurd
But he still knows her every thought 
Without a spoken word

One glance at him is all it takes 
Like love is beginning all again 
The story of their lives.. 
True Love Wins!

*this is a poem about parents love for each other through all the years and obstacles of life.

Sponsor: Carol Eastman
Contest: favorite Poem

Copyright © Lyric Man


Details | Intimate Poem | |

Crimson Tide Time

Cornering me in the bedroom corner, you say it doesn't matter
if the lunar clock is striking twenty eight;
we can set ourselves adrift, unpick the anchorage,

the tide turning for our pleasure.
The slide inside smoother, slicker, tonight;
oddly intimate, skin-to-skin, coral depths pulling you in.

The red wave gathers, breaks, slowly spills and seeps,
creeps down my leg; neither of us cares.
We're lost in lunar loving beneath a bloodstained moon.

Our bodies cling and cleave, braced against the heave
of the current, wave upon wave of carnal carmine.
Plunging deeper into the red sea,

your urging surging through me,
pulsing forward with the flood of my blood,
wet, now, with the cochineal essence of me.

Scarlet secrets of the sea cave within;
each warm gush brings a fresh flush of lust,
as the red anemone of my womb

tenses to release rivulets of rubies
and my muscles contract redly around you,
swelling to hold you with a hotter grip.

We're maroon-mottled, musky with lust,
as the crimson current churns and swirls around us.
And we're surrendering to it, going with the flow,

our skin streaked with scarlet tidemarks,
slippery with passion's puce pattern,
as the sea sweeps a new sensuality ashore.

You're dizzy-drunk on my body's heady claret,
sweat-silvered and ruby-jewelled, as you slowly withdraw,
leaving a smattering of glistening garnets on the bedroom floor.

Copyright © Charlotte Jade Puddifoot