Eileen Manassian Poet Iambic Pentameter

Notes About The Poem

 

If Passion Is Denied

What can I do, for you are out of reach?
I weep and sigh in dungeon of my heart
I tear my clothes in anguish, I beseech
That of my misery you share a part

For I am here tormented in this place
I’m shackled to the wall of dark despair
While you roam free with sunshine on your face
You breathe the air of love without a care

And here am I in need of tenderness
I fear my death will come without a sound
This body long untouched by your caress
Will soon enough be lowered underground

I cannot live if passion is denied
There would be not a joy to see me through
Unending love must in my heart abide
And all I want and need is found in you

Yet, here am I, imprisoned in the gloom
For you have gone and left me sore in need
The flower of this love has lost its bloom
The crimson of its hue is what I bleed

Eileen Manassian

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Honestly J.T. March 1, 2015 at 5:12 PM I can hear you longing. Such heartfelt words. well done -JT Eileen Manassian March 2, 2015 at 2:24 AM You are familiar with longing, JT. That shows in your last poem. I wonder what that's all about. Yes, there are longings in my heart. Not all longings can be fulfilled. Thanks for the visit.

Shane Cooper March 1, 2015 at 4:46 AM You my dear friend show the complexity of your heart in these last few hours. A poem of such deep sexual passion and then such a poem of sadness at the loss of a love. Such depth and range of feelings is "WOMAN" in all her Beaty and grace. You always enchant me. Love Shane xxx Eileen Manassian March 2, 2015 at 2:25 AM I'm glad that I enchant you, my dear. I seem to have lost that power of late with some. Thanks for lifting my spirit. I do appreciate you continue support, Shane. Hope all is well with you, my dear....HUGS

David Meade February 28, 2015 at 10:38 PM How we wither without love, without a gentle touch, without words to speak and hear . . . we were not made to be alone . . . a deep and powerful write LO. You have captured both sides tonight . . . from the physical/emotional pinnacle of love to the desolate isolation of loneliness. 7 Eileen Manassian February 28, 2015 at 11:13 PM Wither is the word, my dear. Thank you for your visit here. I love it when you pass by. You always have something kind for me...and I thrive on kindness. Hugs

Arthur Vaso February 28, 2015 at 9:50 PM My God, the photo, the poem, this is so me!!!! Needless to say, wonderful poem!!! Eileen Manassian February 28, 2015 at 11:13 PM We are both a little emo, eh? ;) Thanks for the visit, Arthur. I'm glad we are kindred spirits in a sense.

Rob Carmack February 28, 2015 at 9:09 PM A well written poem in meter. Good word placement, especially with the three-syllable words. Eileen Manassian February 28, 2015 at 11:14 PM I'm pleased you passed by, Rob. I know that you don't flatter people, so this post is doubly good for me. Thank you ever so much.

Charmaine Chircop February 28, 2015 at 6:12 PM Ouch Eileen.. C' est la vie my dearest friend..This is so so sad and moves me deeply..I do believe crimson hues will wrap your heart with his own blood one day..Smile : ) Eileen Manassian February 28, 2015 at 11:16 PM :) What a delightful post, my dear. We write about it all....Thanks for the lovely visit, Gorgeous. Sending you mu love...

Abdul Malik Mandani February 28, 2015 at 12:26 PM "The flower of...what I bleed" Outstanding. I love these lines. Heartrending and a confession of true, undying love. Very nicely written. Eileen Manassian February 28, 2015 at 1:07 PM Thanks Abdul Malik. Please read my poem before this one....Erogenously Yours. It is for the same contest you entered for. I've given a comment about your poem. :) Hugs

Ilene Bauer February 28, 2015 at 10:25 AM this is just gorgeous, eileen! bravo! Eileen Manassian February 28, 2015 at 11:04 AM I'm beaming with your praise, Ilene. Thanks.

Paul Callus February 28, 2015 at 9:47 AM Very strongly expressed, heartfelt and sad. Denied of love and passion, there is no chance of survival....the heart will bleed to death. This isn't just imagination...but you have the allure to bring back the crimson of love's hue. hugs // paul Eileen Manassian February 28, 2015 at 11:05 AM Ah Paul...allure...comes and goes, doesn't it? It's like....plate of the day....or flavor of the season or....Perhaps I should stop being an idealist and deal with real life...and the different hues of love. My dear, thank you for your visit. I'm so happy when you pass by. Hugs

Tim Smith February 28, 2015 at 9:22 AM I Imagine the right one will come along and set her free...hugs Tim Eileen Manassian February 28, 2015 at 11:06 AM In poetry...the right one always comes along! ;) Thanks, Tim.