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abortion absence
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Long Romantic Poems

Long Romantic Poems. Below are the most popular long Romantic by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Romantic poems by poem length and keyword.

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Long Poems
Long poem by Debbie Duncan | Details |

BY THE SEA

PART One,,,, as she saw it.


The mountains and the meadows were always so beautiful this time of year.
 It seemed as if a fresh new world always came to life. The high cliffs turned sharply downward.  As I sat listening to the ocean tides smashing against the walls of the mountain below. There was a mild breeze blowing from the south. The grass in the flower covered meadows moved with the breeze. The sun shined so brightly I thought it would melt me at times.

As I stood up from the log where I was sitting by the emerald forest, the breeze pressed my dress against me. It formed to the soft round curves of my breast, down through the curves of my waist pushing against my yielding hips. As I blinked from the sun, I saw him there in the distance. I had thought I was alone. But there he was,  starring straight at me. What would I do and where could I turn? I knew what kinds of thoughts men had, my mother told me all about them. I saw that he was beginning to move my way !

 I saw him there as he saw me. I was paralyzed, not knowing what direction to move. Though as I watched him from afar, he did not seem dangerous as my mother always warned. Still, I could hear her words like a tape recorder in the back of my mind.
               
 Should I dare take my eyes from his? I could see his eyes were dark, maybe brown, or even midnight blue.  What ever the color, I could tell they were smoldering with restrained passions. His hair was long to his shoulder blades. I knew that because it moved with the wind.  He had broad shoulders with long legs. I knew I must not let him reach me. If his arms entangled me , surely I would never get loose. And, I'm not sure I would want too. Even though I heard the words of my mother, running in my head.
 I could feel the tiny  beads of sweat trickling down between my breasts. I was not sure I should take my eyes from him as I leaned down to pick up the fan that had slipped from my hand to my bare feet.

PART ONE,,,, As he saw it .

  The winter snow had melted and yielded to the bright warming rays of the spring sun.  The bears had come out of hibernation with their  new born looking for food. The mountains and the meadows were born again, new, fresh and alive with life.  Everything was beautiful and as it should be. Birds singing, their mating songs blended with the crash of the surf against the steep cliffs of the mountain. Nature was at peace with itself, and I came here to share in this peace.  To be alone with the earth, or so I thought.  

I found a place to sit on the grass hidden among the flowers in the high meadows.  So I could enjoy the gentle breeze blowing while watching the forest animals. The warm sun caressed my body and warmed me. It was a prefect day, yet something was missing. A day like this needed to be shared with someone, someone special.  Stretching,  I caught a slight movement out of the corner of my eye, just across the enchanted forest. Of a beautiful women. It couldn't be possible as no one knew of this place. I had come here for years and had never seen a another person before. Yet, there she was. Dressed in a dress the wind made love to, pressing it to her body. Clinging to the sensual curves of her breast, down to her firm waist and full inviting hips. I suddenly felt drawn to her and stood up. I knew she had seen me as she was starring back at me, as I stood staring back at her. She was a vision. And I was afraid she would vanish if I approached her. Yet, she seemed to be smiling, calling to me as I started walking towards her. I remember the stories my grandmother had told me of the enchantresses that lived in this forest, but I did not hesitate. I would give to her anything she wanted, anything she desired.

As I approached her I realized she was real. She seemed to be looking at me, daring me to come closer. All the stories of the enchantress my grandmother had told me flooded my mind with a warning. Yet, she was so beautiful, so inviting  and I couldn't take my eyes from her. I was slowly losing control with each and every step that brought me closer to her. I knew I was lost as I felt the heat of my desire to be with her, starting to take control. It was a struggle not to run to this beautiful creature , with the golden hair, and angelic face.  As I came closer I couldn't help but notice her sensual breasts rising and falling with each breath she took. She seemed to be smiling, challenging me with everything that made her a beautiful, desirable woman. A woman this sensual, this beautiful, this desirable was surely the enchantress, and I was hers. As a bee is drawn to the flower, I was being drawn to this women.

Suddenly she reached down to pick something up. It was just then I noticed she was barefoot.  As she bent over to retrieve what she had dropped, the sun reflected off her spun gold hair. and radiated a golden brightness that was almost blinding.  Her dress shifted  allowing me to see that her body enhanced her dress, rather then the dress enhancing her body. She would look beautiful in anything she wore.  The heat of my desire for her was beginning to consume me with it's fire. I felt the beginnings of ,,,,,,,,,,   

   

   Nov. 18 1992,,,, Short story I started to write, A friend ask if he could write from a males point of view.

Copyright © Debbie Duncan | Year Posted 2013

Long poem by Maurice Yvonne | Details |

Hot And Cold Comes The Night


LIST POETRY - A FUTURISTIC INTERPRETATION You must know I cried yesterday and I think I broke the world so I braided some words into twine planted some sweet and sour coated seeds I grew free standing expressions and then I joined them with left over thread to present these interlocking pieces in their proper order regardless of the number they wear in an attempt to confuse and deceive. I offer this humble list for your reading enjoyment It is an honour to have you visit my page. The pleasure I assure you is all mine WORDS ON PAPER - THE LIST FIVE I loved you centuries before we were born. You lived in my dreams before I ever slept. When others wasted time picking flowers I waited for when it was time to pick you. Love calls you in the natural scent of your partner. You'd feel their touch in the vacuum of outer space. Your desire for them would melt away the ice age. I want to find a door in the brightest part of the sky I could open to erase what was, to shine a light so bright it, like a book of golden words, would write ideas so vital as to eradicate even a suggestion of our mournful past. I want to be that magician who does not bother with illusion but rather heals wounds and shatters burden. TWO We were at the fair, joviality in the air. A memory filed, I was a young child holding balloons floating round like full moons in vivid colours bright. Fixed on this joyous sight I was on Cloud Nine proud these were mine. If I had not let go of them. If I hadn't watched them as they flew higher and higher as my heart sunk lower and lower I might of never learnt what it felt like - hurt. Hope gloats, hope floats. either your way or just away. THREE sometimes the afternoon sun is.....too hot to walk barefoot........on the concrete path still even then.......I refuse to wear my hat I guess I'll never change, I'm just like that. sometimes when I jump in the lake in late summer... with all of my clothes on...I do it in the evening......as I go down...way down to the bottom...there's a gentle peace overtakes me..I want to stay down like a rock... revel in the ecstasy...not swim back up..........not ever SEVEN ours was a paper mâché love living in a cut out cardboard home with a macaroni art painted lawn and nothing real to call our own nothing solid that we could hold. we tried stacking lego bricks but you have to be able to pop your cheek to qualify as a kid - to get a license to build. the castle we assembled didn't pass the test. so much for fairy tales - hello reality check. we rolled the dice but our thimble went straight to jail and our mouse ended up trapped. can you hear that buzzing the operation failed. where are you going? your tricycle is still in the shop and I might as well tell you..............I have no eights................."go fish!" we fell through the bunny hole where i - jack fell ddddownnn nnnnnnn and broke my crown and you - jill came tumbling aaaaaaaaaaafterrrrrrrrrrrrrrr EIGHT it is a choreographed ballet our love stands strong legs at the base digging deep build roots delicate hands branched out reach high long slim fingers define twigs draw space the body of our trunk thick sweet filled music fills our human needs one sound wind pixies dance meticulously the air sunlight leaks effectively through dark spots lifts carries holds and shapes our smiles it is a choreographed ballet our love in sync our bodies their senses once immersed in I now us ONE I know the last thing I want to feel as I leave this world, it is your lips on mine. When I take my last breath I want to feel yours with its loving touch. NINE Always, no matter the roar or intensity of the storm how severe the attack even out of the norm Always, i offer my hand with sincerity aim to deal with it peacefully. Always! SIX then suddenly it hits like a swarm of locus. a deep dark manifestation that greases my mind my very existence in its unforgiving sense of doom. every bone stiffens, when I move, a sound of dead dried out forest twigs breaking against the boots of hikers echoes in the confined space of my skull. i reach for a pill slowly it dissolves under my tongue i wait and i wait and i wait ... my body is soaked in a sweat with its own cold and hot tap. i assume the position, lying on an unstable floor. the creature depression is now in full control of my faculties. this too i will survive ...that is what i do...what i do...this is what i do.......somehow i survive. FOUR there is a deafening hush... silently raging through the core of my existence...still...I am humbled by the light and the love I have witnessed in my brief appearance...........here on Earth there is a river...that walks at my side... walks with me........at the same stride... April 14 2015 Armand

Copyright © Maurice Yvonne | Year Posted 2015

Long poem by James Kelley | Details |

As the Castle Fell

For every step I take toward the sun,
the spark that lit the fire inside me dwindles.
History slated on unforgiving stone erodes;
A weakly chiseled dream.
But I will remember it all,
and tongues shall breed these words
and hold them with intent.
Oh, how we have fallen!
Mighty and meek alike.
We were once just, and strong.
But greatness has cast down it's
poisoned banquet and corrupted hearts
that once bled for glory.
It is with a bitter tongue I speak these words!
Remember the reason we set foot outside
of our city gates.
Remember the certainty in your hearts;
that we men would give people hope!
Hope for life without malice.
Hope for a life of freedom!
A chance for prosperity!
                   ...but what prosperity have we given?
Short of the bountiful throng of arrows that have captured
the eyes of this land and left it's people in fear?
Does a just King rule with the might of fear?!
Or does a King rule with compassion?
I ask you men,
you loyal few.
What would you have me do?
Would you have me slaughter this woman;
this beautiful princess of her people and take her
home as a prize for conquest merely because her
husband was the one that stood in the way?
Is her beauty the cost of her life?
She has wronged not one of us,
and yet you Brakkdus scoff at the thought of
her surviving her King. Why?
Here I thought men of honor followed me,
I thought men of courage swung my blades!
And, yet you fear this woman who could no
sooner do you harm than your own from the
bed that you left her in!
No, Princess Xavia shall survive her King
and remain here with her people.
I refuse to conquer the land of a tyrant,
only to settle for it's fallen ruler's morality!
If that does not befit you, then surely I am not your King.
-James Kelley 2013, All rights reserved
 
 
Princess Xavia's Response
 
 
I stand with humility before such valor
My people have borne
the burden of swords and arrows,
they are silent with fear and trembling before you
Which would be yours
to burden them with once again
yet you offer them freedom
and me my life...when you could shame not only me
but those who are entrusted to me
I would prefer to fall upon the blades of your men
than to become flesh passed amongst them
the destiny of a woman
who has became the chattel of a lost victory
My blood be shed before such shame
be cast upon me
Yet you.... you have offered me back my Kingdom
and restored my name
 
Gallant your soul in the shadow of such a night
beneath the dark stars
where only the flames of a burnt, ashen city
provide any warmth for my grieving people
You have offered them hope
through a frail vessel such as myself,
such honor is seldom written upon the hearts of men
in days such as these
Your compassion is a light in this darkness
these times inscribed with blood
such is this age,
when the voice of stones speak more gently
than the hearts of men
 
Dark are these days and black is the moon
of these nights,
in these lost reveries we journey through
dreams that have become nightmares
Yet strength has arisen in one man,
a leader who throws light back
at the fallen stars
granting the nights a moment of solace
for your honor has returned hope
a light stronger than blaze of the midday sun
 
And as I take back my broken people
we shall take refuge in your kindness and in that light of lights
shall we rebuild this Kingdom,
our sanguine ties shall bind us
and we will rise.
 
 
I gratefully accept my life
returned to me through your kind hands
And secretly, within a whisper
it is my prayer
that when I look upon your countenance
and the time comes
that I shall gaze into your eyes again
it shall be as the queen you have restored
to her throne and to her people
and who keeps quietly within the space between her heartbeats
gratitude...
and the hope that she will share her throne
beside yous
should you find her efforts and her heart
worthy.
 
 
 
(c)  Katherine Wyatt 2013

Copyright © James Kelley | Year Posted 2013

Long poem by liam mcdaid | Details |

Celtic Dreams

The Celtic dreams come forth through auric visions of an all-seeing eye. 
An ancient calling where the mystic rivers flow down a rugged mountain
while Angels bathe in the springs of an everlasting and radiant beauty. 
The Soul grasps at memories enfolding within fields of emerald green, 
where the sun kisses the golden barley as it dances softly to a warm, 
beautiful breeze. 

I see my blessed star once more awaiting me upon the great golden plain, 
enchanting the beautiful songbirds’ sweet melodies, and holding the air 
one breathes. I come on the breath of a sigh, as the haunting Celtic pipes
are calling breathlessly to your adoring beauty, with true angelic music
playing wondrous tunes to you over the mountains forever more.

From the Kingdom of Arrach, I stand looking out over a magical mountain
river from which mighty waters roar, and find deep ethereal senses pure
where the inner eye sees through murky depths, on the edge of a dark 
mysterious voyage toward the dreams of my past. Stars twinkle in an 
azure sky, and within these stars my Diamond Queen is shining, as liquid
gold melts blending gently with radiant colors of a misted celestial light. 

I stand as the true power of an ancient time, and the past lives live on
within my warrior heart. High above the mountain an eagle spreads its
wings, evoking the horizon, and sounding soft echoes as an affectionate
calling. My beloved, this Celtic heart beats only for you. Come to me from 
your star, and we shall join once more, uniting dreams under the sleeping
eyelids, and later awaken the whispers in the seed and pollen floating in 
the enchanted night air.

The eagle circling ever so slowly in descending circles, with a halo vision, 
falling to the spirit of Celtic beauty. A flaming heart burns once more, you
come as promised, eclipsing upon this earth. I kneel before you my gracious
one to softly kiss your breathless petals. A thousand dreams take flight. The
lonely wolf on the highest pinnacle of Arrach awaits his love as the eagle flies
in search of a new Celtic dream to be reborn into this life. 

Lighting moonbeams dance with the shadows of sparkling starlight glistening
silver, born into an existence from a black void of nothingness. The wolf and 
the eagle shall now join as one in human shape and form. It’s at this moment
that new legends arise in the sunsets, holding your slender fingers to my heart 
with a deepest joy that skips inside a chain that kisses your every command.
                                                                                                                                                                                                                                         And now behold the glory of the coming, as light explodes in such colored hues. 
If I could blow onto your hair a gentle whisper where a Soul floats, breathing
warm treasure sparkles, with one very special gleam. Once more King Aird Righ
and his Diamond Queen come forth to redeem again the mantle of Celtic glory
and storied greatness. 

A gift gem of a thousand lifetimes, beyond dreams of sweet honey, awakening 
in the morning I bask in your very light and mythical presence. On the breath
of a sigh you come from your peaceful sleep, called by our Love speaking from
our ancient time, and with each passing moon, I sense while gazing at the stars
ineluctable feelings and emotions as the divine dewdrops of the morning speak.

You are the greatest jewel these blue eyes shall ever see—a diamond shining 
bright in my darkest hours—you are my love Supreme. This Soul calls over the
ocean waves, as each echo in your voice ripples like a tiny humming bird with
its heart beating so rapidly and flowering kisses on your soft and sweet dreams.

Gary Bateman, Liam McDaid, and Michael Clarke – A Collaborated Poem, 
Copyright © All Rights Reserved (August 25, 2015) (Free Verse)

Copyright © liam mcdaid | Year Posted 2015

Long poem by Gary Bateman | Details |

Celtic Dreams

Celtic Dreams

The Celtic dreams come forth through auric visions of an all-seeing eye. 
An ancient calling where the mystic rivers flow down a rugged mountain
while Angels bathe in the springs of an everlasting and radiant beauty. 
The Soul grasps at memories enfolding within fields of emerald green, 
where the sun kisses the golden barley as it dances softly to a warm, 
beautiful breeze. 

I see my blessed star once more awaiting me upon the great golden plain, 
enchanting the beautiful songbirds’ sweet melodies, and holding the air 
one breathes. I come on the breath of a sigh, as the haunting Celtic pipes
are calling breathlessly to your adoring beauty, with true angelic music
playing wondrous tunes to you over the mountains forever more.

From the Kingdom of Arrach, I stand looking out over a magical mountain
river from which mighty waters roar, and find deep ethereal senses pure
where the inner eye sees through murky depths, on the edge of a dark 
mysterious voyage toward the dreams of my past. Stars twinkle in an 
azure sky, and within these stars my Diamond Queen is shining, as liquid
gold melts blending gently with radiant colors of a misted celestial light. 

I stand as the true power of an ancient time, and the past lives live on
within my warrior heart. High above the mountain an eagle spreads its
wings, evoking the horizon, and sounding soft echoes as an affectionate
calling. My beloved, this Celtic heart beats only for you. Come to me from 
your star, and we shall join once more, uniting dreams under the sleeping
eyelids, and later awaken the whispers in the seed and pollen floating in 
the enchanted night air.

The eagle circling ever so slowly in descending circles, with a halo vision, 
falling to the spirit of Celtic beauty. A flaming heart burns once more, you
come as promised, eclipsing upon this earth. I kneel before you my gracious
one to softly kiss your breathless petals. A thousand dreams take flight. The
lonely wolf on the highest pinnacle of Arrach awaits his love as the eagle flies
in search of a new Celtic dream to be reborn into this life. 

Lighting moonbeams dance with the shadows of sparkling starlight glistening
silver, born into an existence from a black void of nothingness. The wolf and 
the eagle shall now join as one in human shape and form. It’s at this moment
that new legends arise in the sunsets, holding your slender fingers to my heart 
with a deepest joy that skips inside a chain that kisses your every command.  
                                                                                                       
And now behold the glory of the coming, as light explodes in such colored hues. 
If I could blow onto your hair a gentle whisper where a Soul floats, breathing
warm treasure sparkles, with one very special gleam. Once more King Aird Righ
and his Diamond Queen come forth to redeem again the mantle of Celtic glory
and storied greatness. 

A gift gem of a thousand lifetimes, beyond dreams of sweet honey, awakening 
in the morning I bask in your very light and mythical presence. On the breath
of a sigh you come from your peaceful sleep, called by our Love speaking from
our ancient time, and with each passing moon, I sense while gazing at the stars
ineluctable feelings and emotions as the divine dewdrops of the morning speak.

You are the greatest jewel these blue eyes shall ever see—a diamond shining 
bright in my darkest hours—you are my love Supreme. This Soul calls over the
ocean waves, as each echo in your voice ripples like a tiny humming bird with
its heart beating so rapidly and flowering kisses on your soft and sweet dreams.

Gary Bateman, Liam McDaid, and Michael Clarke – A Collaborated Poem, 
Copyright © All Rights Reserved (August 25, 2015) (Free Verse)

Copyright © Gary Bateman | Year Posted 2015

Long poem by Robert Ronnow | Details |

Shade

             Your past, your romantic past, is a shadow. Like all towns, Port Washington was a combination of rain and clouds, sun and mist, with a chamber of commerce, barrooms and boards of directors, the known and unknown. No one of course is completely unknown. I was known for my tragic love life. She had found another man, a backwoods man, living on the land but not above a night on the town, who according to her would wipe snot on his pants, a statement of poverty or thrift or anger against the niceties of society. All of us heated our hovels with wood but only the rich burned hardwoods, me and probably this guy were softwood gatherers.

            There were few aspects to my life. First, I can remember a nook in the kitchen of the house I shared with a beautiful faceless woman who wore a ring in her nose where I wrote and watched flocks of unidentified birds comb a tree for seeds. This particular day the sky was blue with clean pillowy cumulus clouds floating toward Puget Sound. I believe all the poems written in that nook have been forgotten by their author.

            Nights, for entertainment, I would wander the aisles of the supermarket, admiring everything and buying nothing. I had no money. The fluorescent lighting, clean straight neat shelving and floors, warmth and the fact I could identify nobody attracted me. I lived on cream cheese and honey sandwiches eating them leaning against the kitchen sink. Thinking go back to New York City which is what I ultimately did. Drove cross country nonstop three days and three nights seeing and feeling nothing.

           This was during the Reagan recession inherited from Carter. I'm unclear how presidents affect your life but good or bad, democrat or whig, alive or dead you've got to get a job, which I did. I supervised the living arrangements of developmentally disabled adults in what I thought were humorous contexts that gave no offense. They were beautiful and incorrigible having regular sex without protection. Normally harmless they'd sometimes have altercations with their neighbors. I balanced the checkbooks, paid the bills. Supposedly teaching living skills, I had few of my own as evidenced by my sleeping on the floor, I had no bed. One mature woman colleague judged me a short-timer living a useless fantasy about big cities. Still lost in my own history, still didn't know the calculus.

            I had a dog, Shade, black lab, leftover from my near-marriage until she realized I had no economic prospects, no interest in further sex or her logger boyfriend, and a complete inability to translate or imagine nesting and gestation. Like Aaron, my homework comes to me in daily disconnected increments. Shade lived in my gray van, a Dodge slant six, which I could never afford to fix. Once the driveshaft disconnected from the rear axle and I tied it on with rope. Drove 60 miles on a knot. Shade was hyper and sad, both. He smelled bad but was a good dog with a lonely heart. When my wife who wasn't a wife finally found a boyfriend who wouldn't wipe snot on his pant leg they took Shade to British Columbia where I believe he runs free on a vast estate by the sea. I once beat Shade like a slave because he attacked a small dog out of frustration and loneliness and until I had kids and started saying and doing things just as bad to humans it was the lowest meanest moment of my life. The farmer who saw it will never forget or forgive it.

            Having confessed all this there's just one last fact to tell. The mountains were cold, the waters clear, deep snow and shadows.





Copyright © Robert Ronnow | Year Posted 2015

Long poem by Michael Osborne | Details |

A Rose Among the Weeds

     A Rose Among the Weeds

For Dawn

By Mike

Throughout life I have walked down many corridors.
Some lighted, some dark, but all replete with doors.
I opened many. Some I left ajar others I quickly closed.
All good decisions at the time or so I supposed.
Never sure of what I was searching for or hoping to find.
Sometimes throwing them open, without thought, as if I were blind.
At times I stood in weeds, sometimes in manicured grass.
At times I stood in water, or on a hill. Sometimes I acted intelligent, sometimes crass.
Contemplating the beauty and ugliness I encountered behind each door.
Knowing that every minute that passed, every action taken, must come before.
To arrive at this second, I now live in and can’t ignore.
Each new day brings forth new and unexplored corridors.
Some lighted, some dark, but all replete with doors.
Tiring of my search, still unsure of what I hope to achieve.
I find it more comfortable to pass by unopened doors and not turn the knobs I believe.
Not so long ago, I opened a door that was filled with a pasture overgrown with weeds and chaff.
A sight so dismal that I wanted to cry but entered any way with a laugh.
I was immediately drawn into the desolation and ruin of that particular place.
Lost upon entry unable to go back. Soon tears of desperation streamed down my face.
Unable to return to the corridor where I was before.
Wandering through the pasture hopelessly unsure of what was in store.
Sauntering through that pasture, up hills and down again.
Waiting to discover some semblance of normalcy. Hoping for a new life to begin.
Hopelessly misplaced, I couldn’t find my way back to where I was before.
Captured by my surroundings, unable to find a new corridor.
One day to my surprise, I discovered a solitary rose among the weeds and chaff.
I plucked it up and held onto it tight, tears streamed down my face yet I wanted to laugh.
I finally found what I had been looking for I discovered my place.
With that rose in hand I ran for the door and wiped the tears from my face.
I ran until exhaustion enveloped me, but could not find the door.
Instead I was propelled into a brightly lighted corridor.
A corridor that seemed to have no beginning or end, which I could perceive.
A new journey, different than any I had ever encountered I believe.
Finally in that corridor I discovered a single unopened door.
I threw it open. Rose in hand, and was overwhelmed by a new world impossible to ignore.


A world filled with grace and beauty. A place I’d always longed to be.
Truth, honesty, love and goodwill for as far as the eye can see.
Only goodness existed there. A haven of solace is what I found.
I walked in and thanked God for good fortune and threw myself to the ground.
Thankfully praying that I might spend the rest of my life in this place.
A wonderful place filled with love and understanding, devoid of anguish and disgrace.
You are that rose, so please hold me and then come journey with me.
Stay by my side, and hold my hand. When I think of love, it is your face I see.
Together we have created a better world where only you and I reside.
A world that whenever we come together we can instantly step inside.
To dwell briefly together, for alone we must transverse new corridors.
Some lighted, some dark, but all replete with doors.
Many that can now remain closed, because we have discovered that one door that only belongs to you and me.
The door that opens into a world where beauty, trust and love are all that we see.



						Love, Mike
					             10/15/16

Copyright © Michael Osborne | Year Posted 2016

Long poem by Maurice Yvonne | Details |

A Tulip Grows Under An Evergreen - Inspired By The Poets At PoetrySoup


A
fine
Parrot Tulip
in vibrant intensities 
with unique undertones
of green acquirable only in a 
few forests. A ruby red swirls within 
its petals beckons awareness of those very 
strokes that live in the lustre of your shapely lips 
like fantasy realized. Mirthful yellows in all those lacquers 
barely ever seen as one would scorch their eyes to gaze lastingly 
directly at the Sun - though I have been fortunate to witness identical 
iridescence in strands of your hair you unintentionally flip and like dainty 
fingers wave me on to move closer to your flawless frame - memorized easily.
A 
special 
fuchsia sparingly 
paints the flower they
say exists only in certain 
singular gemstones yet l know
this tincture for I have seen it in your 
cheeks when we play and laugh. Oh your 
laugh how it fills me - replacing noise surfing
the waves of sound in the surrounding atmosphere.
How enchanting when your laughter there - dwells to
tickle molecules invisible to the eyes but felt by the human
heart. Parrot tulips with their soft myriad shades become stunning 
against a deep black backdrop which shimmers bright like your ebony eyes. 
Sparkle like your smile and I grin happily just thinking of you, just thinking of us.
A 
pearl
white that also 
adorns the flower a 
special light effect I have
found in your complexion - dazzles
my mind each and every time I see you.
Parrot tulips a miracle of nature, a special
breed I admit are as remarkable as any offering 
that grows in our gardens but rarer still - you the flower 
I share my life with. No one, no thing, no life compares to you,
your approach - for every time I even think of you, the joy it brings
completes the meaning of my existence full. If not for you no other delight 
would have that extra zest I feel from the sharing of your love and light always.
A
Parrot
tulip oh 
what joy it
brings. How the flower
draws these words from
me. Ironic how true allure felt
fills our glass so I thought I'd share
with you how it uplifts my days - knowing
confident in our love as one - you'd never resent
me speaking of an elegance other than yours. So you may 
know - understand what the fibres of ones constitution compels 
them to write. Now - about a mystique other than the one you sport with
humility. Finally I have written a poem on aesthetics that does not mention you.
A
closing
monologue.
Just above and 
beneath the dirt grows 
riches unimaginable. Made to 
be absorbed by senses recognizable 
only by a few. They are free for the taking.
An appreciation, a love of a natural essence.
A flower, a person, romance you breathe incomparable
to anything real or imagined.  It alone are the wings we humans 
seek...as real and as precious as all else consumable. How lucky I 
am the magic handed out daily on these pages. The people I could never
find anywhere else then here. I am in love with their words in love with them.


the   re    frain       
is a  par    r               a 
ot  tu lip                m
hid   d                a
en u                j
   n             e
   d           s
   e         t
   r      i 
   c    
   e
    v
     e
     r
    g
   r
 e
 e
n
earthearthearthearthearthearthearthearthearthearthearthearthearthearth
r  r r  r
 o   o   oo
o      o o   o
    t      tt     t 
  s      s   s      s
r r        r   r
o  o    o        o
o  o        o   o
t      t          t     t
s   s        s       s




April 27 2015
The Gardener



Copyright © Maurice Yvonne | Year Posted 2015

Long poem by SIMON M MATLOU | Details |

GUILTY AS CHARGED

GUILTY AS CHARGED!


Justice Romantic Romeo : Stand up in court!       
                                                 Case No 345/03/2012
                                                Accused: Ms Provocative Dishonest
                                                Address: 197 Mpopotwane Street
                                                                Sun Valley, Mamelodi West
                                                                0122 
 
                                            
                                             (1)   PARTICULARS OF CHARGES

                                              (1)      Charge 1: Sweeping my heart away.
                                              (1)(a) Alternative charge to charge 1: Stealing away my soul.
                                              (2)     Charge 2: Provocatively hijacking my feelings.
                                              (2)(a) Alternative charge to charge 2: Playing         continuously in my dreams.
                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                  
In terms of the Constitution’s Bill of Rights and Ubuntu  Regulations  14(3) that reads with Batho-Pele Principles and Corporate Governance Regulations 18(3),
You performed an act that constituted an offence and you therefore stand accused           

of :

Unlawfully and intentionally sweeping my heart away on 2012/03/16 at 16:00,  On my birthday, on Sunday at 197 Mpopotwane Street, Sun Valley in  Mamelodi West, and alternatively stealing my soul on that day, time and   place.
                              	
                                              AND FURTHER….
                               
  You unlawfully and intentionally, provocatively hijacked my feelings in broad    daylight, in full view of the people, and alternatively played continuously in
                         my dreams every 12:00 midnight from that day until present!
                                               

                                               (2) PLEADING:

Justice Romantic Romeo: How do you plead Ms Provocative Dishonest?
                                              Guilty or not guilty?

                                           
Ms Provocative Dishonest : Eh.........eh...........guilty , my Worship !

                                              
                                                   (3) FINDINGS:

Justice Romantic Romeo  :    Guilty as charged! Guilty on all the charges!
                                              

(4) SENTENCE:

Justice Romantic Romeo  :  Since you pleaded guilty to all the charges,
                                                 I will slap you with this light sentence:

                                               (1) Be the apple of my eye and my lover for life!
(2) With NO PAROLE and NO LEAVE TO APPEAL for this sentence, be the keeper of my dreams!
                                                
                                               (5) COURT ADJOURNS:

Justice Romantic Romeo  : All stand up in court !The court is adjourned, 
                                                And we will live  happily ever after.







Copyright © SIMON M MATLOU | Year Posted 2012

Long poem by John Hamilton | Details |

When you know it's right

                                        When you know it's right

                                              Intro and chorus
 
                                         Do you know the feeling
                                        when you know it's right?
                                                   Oh yeah 

                                      Do you recognize the feeling
                                        when you know it's right?
                                             Oh yeah   Oh yeah

                                         Do you know the feeling
                                        when you know it's right?
                                            Oh yeah     Oh yeah


                                           When I first saw you, 
                                                in the distance
                                          I had to wipe my eyes

                                              I knew that you,
                                             could understand

                                           cause you recognized
                                            the tears that I cried
                                        
                                           But, you never really
                                                knew me at all

                                      but, I knew, that it was right

                                        I was ready to take the fall
                                     I just hurried and made the call, 

                                             and you came to me  
                                               in that same night

                                                It was September
                                           don't worry I remember

                                         How could my memory fail
                                             it was our first night
                                         our emotions , were so frail
         
                                          Oh I know that you worry
                                           so much about tomorrow

                                               you need not worry

                                             because I am all yours
                                         no more slamming of doors
                                     
                                        the future is just you and me
                                      
                                                       Chorus

                                           Do you know the feeling
                                           when you know it's right?
                                                      Oh yeah 

                                         Do you recognize the feeling
                                           when you know it's right?
                                                Oh yeah   Oh yeah

                                            Do you know the feeling
                                           when you know it's right?
                                               Oh yeah     Oh yeah



John Derek Hamilton
September 05,2016
















Copyright © John Hamilton | Year Posted 2016

Long Poems