Love
Perhaps sweeter than honey in its tiny cell,
Bold expectations of Heaven;
Often ending up in Hell.
Why do people believe its easy,
Theyr’e seeking love that’s true?
When usually its infatuation,
Some wolf hunting for a screw.
Love is something sublime,
Where you don’t wallow in slime;
A state of bliss from a sensous kiss,
Taking one to a sunny clime.
To take love to its Zenith,
From Heart you have to mean It;
Or you’ll leave behind a sordid mess,
Leaving someone else to clean it.
Love is something precious,
Meant for only two;
Just sex alone is for animals,
All living in some zoo:
So be so true unto thyself,
And do what you have to do
Love your partner as yourself,
I’m sure she’ll love you too.
- Prince Freakasso (Painter & Poet)
Copyright © Prince Freakasso | Year Posted 2009
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem.
Please
Login
to post a comment