Love To the Nice Man
The nice man asked me once
a question, I gave some thought too,
he seemed curious and entranced
so I listen to what he said:
What is love he asked
is it just a mere word,
since its widely spoken aloud
by faithful hearts
and deceitful mouths
Is it but a weapon
used to make grown men primitive
and wild?
And grown women hysterical, jealous
and vile?
Maybe it’s used to tame,
make the men grovel
make women beg
Or maybe a state of being
Maybe a state of mind
Happy and coy,
The dreamy smiles.
The joy.
I answered
yes it’s a word,
a word I want to tell you everyday
Maybe it’s a weapon,
one you’ve used to capture my heart.
A state of being,
for I am joyous, being here with you.
Love is how it feels like to be with you.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
