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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required I wonder: would you make me your mistress lost in a world of poetry under your wings I’ll celebrate heaven's gift; more to me a tortured love wretched wishes: life's greatest anguish our heaven's in sight, you see my eyes voyeur, I see you looking at me don't try to love me if you can’t, I will not break the day will come I can resist you taking a chance, there is beauty; life’s symphony gentle murmurs – the scent of your soul indulgent love, you tempt me – hold on to me to bloom in red flame amidst the fallen petals if you wonder how do I love thee I'm here because words spoken by you you touch me with your words from your heart’s caverns your maze of words blazing across your sky speak my language; the coupling of our souls I have seen those lips, that smile you said there's more to life what you want life is short; kiss away my pain there is a place beyond perceptions from a distance, I love to watch you fly fireflies or fairies: the difference between you and me out of the wilderness I thirst for an angel way back when the day we met it was easy my need for love; a place to lay my head in tenderness of night touch me like you mean it in the moment the journey of your lips my lover's words a melody divine glitter on my skin, serenading the senses stream of memories; you listen to me they ask me why I love you through the mist you keep me grounded – must it be black and white you are my spring; you are my sanity; my muse I always believed wishes are for fools’ judgement if I were stronger the essence of love the reward nearby a dream within reality, a chasing after the wind if I could hold back the dawn: serenity and peace I used to write for you; just let the poet be your words pale, were I to know you too will go don’t tell my heart; let me write; don’t censor me the day you gently let me go, my love endures once love has died spare a few kinds words for me remembered echoes put on hold; I'll die in peace when velvet turns to stone, let my tombstone read: the scent of poems past never to be erased Poems by Eileen Manassian: A collage of titles spanning a period from 2012 – 2021, WITH PERMISSION. NB Every single word of this poem, including the title ('You are' & 'My Muse') was derived verbatim from 112 titles -- list on request (out of possibly near 1,700 titles) of Ms Manassian’s poems, hence I did not put the poem in quotation marks. Poetic form:CENTO.
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