Poetry Passion Poems

These Poetry Passion poems are examples of Poetry poems about Passion. These are the best examples of Poetry Passion poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

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Details | Alliteration |
~STRIP TEASE~     Featuring:) SKAT

Silver Skimpy Ink, String, A POET DESTROYER's bling, bling
Think of me as a human ditty delicious decoration,
Something along the line of a sweet tooth temptation
Cherry tastes, between the slit of tender toast 
Fine jumble jam slams down the tongueless throat 
Dance like a diamond on The tight South Pacific Rim
I'll feed you with a slithering seductive sound
My hair soaking, -wet and wild, tonight I trim
A dulcet apple acrostic bottom, to squeeze the greed
Feathers, on top, poetic diction describing to please
At times, I'm in deep dire need of something sweet, and sour 
Endless epic words, and ode to the naked poetic world
We The Women and Men of poetry,
Reveals far more than any nudity found in a bar
It does not matter how you do it or who you are.
I'm an entertainer, of Poetry, 
The good, the bad, the freaking awesome
Don't worry, I keep my clothe On :)

---

Symbol of the spiritual Sexy SKAT Slang
--Provocative-- A slippery succulent, scrumptious kiss 
Counterparts working the tension, another arrant appetite
I am the Illuminati illusion, laminating luscious illustrated letters  
Indulging in the, satire of one stilt spoken sunset
Like a child's spiking temperature, I often throw tantrums, 
Teasing attentions, by incorporating a pole, paper and pen, 
If someone is uncomfortable with facing the fact, 
When I reveal everything, without removing my high heels
Then you must not be worldly or women and man enough 
I love to spoil and slur my scenery, using my best assets
My strength and power parallel, any unique universe 
That's how confident the audience makes me feel
We The Women and Men of poetry,
Reveals far more than any nudity found in a bar
It does not matter how you do it or who you are.
I'm an entertainer, of Poetry, 
The good, the bad, fantastic and fabulous
Don't worry, I keep my clothe On :)


~A Poet Destroyer Collaboration~

Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2014




Details | Free verse |
Poetry was her best lover like no other he loved her without restraint She could be herself and explore discovering secret pleasures and fantasies Naked above the covers he let her lie exposed as he slowly caressed her imagination making her flow with the sweet essence of her soul in waves of creative delirium Flying free~~~ he let her be unfettered unashamed unworried of how to please or how to tease just simply to be a woman in a prelude to ecstasy Poetry was her best lover her escape from reality in clandestine intimacy he ravished her mind again and again for all he wanted was for her to experience to taste every pleasure he had to offer Her insatiable appetite he fed with firm truths that burst forth with wisdom He fed her desire to reach supremacy He never betrayed or delayed in pleasing her in giving her just what she wanted in different ways and forms his creativity endless Poetry was her best lover the only time in her day when she had her way and could be free to be the woman she was meant to be: Sensual and sultry, sexy and savory not having to hide behind the guise the veil of culture or religion or misconstrued sexism or alibis being demure “sterile” when she was fertile laden with passion waiting to be filled with word seeds of ingenuity Poetry was her best lover he adored her as she was and he gave and gave at times leading her in submission to his will taming her training her to live in the confines of his rules... For perfection to be reached she had to follow his lead to the pinnacle of pleasure where all was in rhythmic union and rhyme in the sublime she was oblivious to time Ah....sweet release~~~ In the after glow he wouldn't let her go but held her safe and secure basking in the satisfaction of a fruitful union serene in the knowledge that beauty has been conceived waiting for delivery Yes, Poetry was her best lover and she came looking for him begging him to take her again and again and again to transport her to heaven from hell to compel her to see what life was meant to be Poetry was her best lover and she had no need of another to help her discover her own entity…. None other than her best lover Poetry....
Eileen Manassian

Copyright © Eileen Manassian | Year Posted 2016

Details | Iambic Pentameter |
To those who think that poetry must be
of lofty things, not sensuality
To those who write of stars and sun and moon
and who to romance will not ever swoon

To those who write of angst and misery
of all that has gone wrong in history
To those who think I write frivolity
and read not what I write: an oddity!

I write to you, and all my thought's I'll bare
and see if you can argue if you dare
If you’ve forgotten passion's blazing fire
Or how consumed your heart was with desire

If you’ve forgotten romance in the night
Or making love in early morning light
If you’re denied the thrill of ecstasy
And can’t bear witness to its urgency

If you have come of age when health concerns
are all of life that now your mind discerns
I tell you dear, the fault is yours not mine
Devoid of love life meets not plan divine

The gift of love is granted from on high
You can’t deny that even if you try
the pleasure’s woven in anatomy
He formed and blessed our sensuality

To reproduce was in his own design
But also to enjoy the act sublime
There is a little bud that’s meant to thrill
It’s only use is pleasure to fulfill

So tell me, what is life if not for this
To show commitment with the sweetest kiss
In right communion to be drenched in love
And in its throes to glide to heights above

My fellow poet, write of lofty things
And all the finer thoughts that wisdom brings
I pity you for love and passion’s reign
Has banished you from glory with disdain

All nature and all life with love is mixed
And so my mind with passion is transfixed
It’s love that makes this world go round and round
Without it, best be buried underground.

Eileen Manassian



Copyright © Eileen Manassian | Year Posted 2015




Details | Dramatic Verse |
I often sit for long periods of time
hoping the perfect beginning will come to me.
To write a poem that starts with a pristine Capital
leaving readers with great expectations.

But after much torment, with not a fleck of gold in sight,
it's comes to my attention
that much like life, How it Began
isn't half as important as How it Finishes,

(And neither as important
as How it Is in the Present)

That's how it was, in any case,
when the landlord dropped the news
that sunny Idahoan morn;

It was a time for a change, they all said in unison:
my sister, my brother, my mother ---
And like the sweetest melancholy, I couldn't help but agree,

For I knew no matter where I went
I'd always have poetry ...

(but now it seems she has alluded me)

Through 2,500 miles and 9 states;
through a million and a half brand new things 

... and yet

Inspiration refuses to sing.
As I sit here in suspense
for that metaphorical gravy train,
wondering when the words
will start flowing again.

Will it be like it was before,
when it comes to me?
Ears perked to the extreme
with expectations of a symphony?

When it comes to me ...

Will they laugh? Will they cry?
Will my words come across
like softest lullaby?

Because sometimes our muse just up and leaves,
we wonder why.
But no my most cherished friends,
we mustn't cry,

for it's been a great adventure,
has it not?

Remember the words of Dr. Seuss:
Don't be sad that it's over,
Smile that it happened.

Though words were once putty in my hands
I now take in the beauty that encompasses me,
content to just let it sit,
without the need to express it ...

But don't be fooled, Dearest Reader,
for I have the highest hope
that stars will dance,
leaves will fly,
birds will sing,

WHEN it comes to me.

But will you believe me when I say
I've watched the stars fall and flicker
between the leaves
a hand's breadth from my fingertips?

(go on and take a sip
the magic's free)

That I've breathed in the air,
as if it were honeysuckle blooming in the sky
just for me.

Oh and how I wish you could see
beyond the words of this page,
for it's beyond a tragedy
that all I have to give is this poem.

You know I'd offer you my eyes
for you to see the things I'm seeing.

(put your hand on my chest,
can you feel it beating?)

Like the petals of a rose
she holds me close:
the place where the bright rubicund clay
makes way for my Armstrongian footprints

---just one small step
then comes the leap---

My arms spread wide
hoping for discovery,
but preparing for catastrophe ...

And believe me when I say
I couldn't dream of sleep,
for when it comes to me
the minstrels will weep,
the prisoners'll be set free ...
as emotions become ablaze
in new and surprising ways.

For there's a lily pad pond,
just outside my backdoor ....
that's begging for a tale to be penned.
There's a place called Mount Alto
sitting just like a storybook
outside the backdoor, my friends,

whilst I sit here
listening to the cicadas sing
in Valley Soprano,
reminding me that everything
is but a poem-in-waiting:

The rolling green hills
bearing witness of mountain familiarity;
the black butterflies
flitting between
the berry blossoms of May.

Everything is so new here ...
far beyond anything I could ever say.
And I hope I can do it justice,
to paint a picture in your head,
with every ounce of the things I've said ...

(auto-biography? fantasy?
you won't be able to tell the difference
when it comes to me)

Copyright © Timothy Hicks | Year Posted 2016

Details | Free verse |
~the Fear of Never~ A DRINK TO REMEMBER!


   And the fire catches every time, my heart needs a sip
I bear no shame pouring, poisoned pabulum whisky down 
Lost in a place with hungry whores, ink paying  gigolos 
This night a respected gentleman put's on his evening gown
He sits in front of a mic playing the same old sad song
Fitted out in drag, his wife has no clue
Holy breeders trying to change my shoes
Lingering from the Cute Chinaman, running his tab sky high
Bluebirds of jealousy, set round the vintage Barstool like fools
Minds overpowered and threaten to the very nub

I am drunk-- in his eye, 
He receives a macabre confession of possessiveness 
I am drunk-- in her eye,
She has a sick confession of subconsciousness 

Broken loose from a negative, regressive state of mind
Sit and enjoy this broken bottle of champagne 
Unspoken rage in every empty can left behind
A shot glass drops from my unstable hands longing to hold a pen
I look into a mirror and embrace every meaning of stability
Blotting out the madness behind a metal cage of reality
At times, I feel the need to bring down this masquerade 
A drink so hostile, I can't even remember my image and name 

Too many scars, from the foster of paper and pen
My dependents are drunken demons from a traumatized childhood 
Tonight I will legislate a special thanks
Holding up my cup, until death finds my note 
I will smile, at every Judge and Jury, during karaoke night
Shutting down my eyes, fantasizing everything's gonna be alright
I will not  jilt knowing, writers block haunted my days away
Insecure hoarding monsters enjoying spoil forgotten words
Tonight I thirst like never before, my tongue inscribes around a tin cup
I am not eating up by it, no matter how long I've drowned in it
This is my kind of whisky, my thoughts, my days of ammo 
To tell you the truth, I possess no desire to drink
It's all about the love of poetry and how sober, I become (WITHOUT)
The monsters that reside inside, have one thing to say

"Give me Poetry, or give me Death!"

by: PD

Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2014

Details | Dramatic monologue |
The handwriting became darker,
And I imagined your hands pressing upon the page,
Wavering whether to write your thoughts or not
Soon, sure, the wavering became conviction,
And in your mind you decided to write,
“Always yours”

Tears sprung from my eyes,
As convicted as your burdened letters

I condemned myself to love again,
How cruel the ink seeped into my marrow
To flitter and flutter upon mere words on a page
Words with promises, confessions, and affection
I could barely read through the gasps of my soul,
The screaming of my mind, and the bleeding of my heart
“Always yours” . . .

Do not inflict me like the plague, oh destroyer!
Do not soon crawl into these open arms
That would not dare push you away
I will love you till the days swallow me whole,
Till the light in you bellows cold with indifference! 

We are words, my corresponding dear, 
Deepening upon a page about to break
We are words, nothing more,
That are always, 
Always Yours 

Copyright © Laura Breidenthal | Year Posted 2015

Details | Light Poetry |
Call me evil
Call me names
Call me 

Kiss me on the lips
Kiss my heart
Kiss me

Wrap me in your arms
Hold me within your breasts
Whisper your longings

Touch me with your voice
Touch me with your caress
Touch me

Fondle the thought of forever
Fondle the thought of longing
Fondle me

Dance for the happiness inside of you
Dance to wash away your tears
Dance into my arms

Walk the path of wisdom
Run towards my heart
Kiss contentment

The sword of lust is shining
A dozen daffodils to undress your heart
Flower me with kisses

Call me

Copyright © arthur vaso | Year Posted 2014

Details | Rhyme |
To be in love with a poet
Is not an easy thing
Try as you might, you will never
Live up to his dream

For the poet isn’t content
With love’s status quo
You please and you tease him
But it’s not enough you know

For living there in his mind
Is a picture of the divine
You know that he longs for her
For it's shown in every line

The woman of perfection
Who is not of this world
With raven tresses of hair
A passion flower unfurled

The poet “sees” this woman
And his senses just take leave
For her love is deep, intense
Her body rivals that of Eve

She is tender and she’s giving
Never asking in return
She waits for him night and day
And for his love she burns

She nurtures his desire
Fulfills his every whim
For she is his possession
Remains faithful just to him

She sees in him embodied
Every single manly trait
Each and every need of his
She’s sure to satiate

Ah…mere mortal woman
Who must compete with this muse
You find that you fall short
And your love’s prone to abuse

For who can dare compare
With a poet’s romantic dream
The siren who sings to him
Who floats on clouds of cream

Poor lover of the poet
Sitting all alone at night
Waiting for him to see you
and your needs to ignite

Love him, my sweet, love him
For in the end...he’s just a man
That silly muse of his dreams
Can’t caress him, but you can

So win him at this love game
Make the fires really burn
Try to enchant his mind
So that for YOU it will yearn

Warn that charming seductress
That muse who tries hard to woo
That you have a jealous heart
And you've made him drink your brew

Your body, your soul, your desires
Bathe him in all of these
Not with words but your hands
Make him to do just what you please

For a poet is just a man
Just a simple man is he
Grant him all he desires
Only then he'll set you free!

Jade

Copyright © Eileen Manassian | Year Posted 2015

Details | Free verse |
My dear poet- 
I am forever grateful to you
For allowing my body
To be your page 

Letting your words 
Ascend on my temple
And descend 
On my feet

How long will I thank God 
For giving me you
As our passionate and artistic sessions
Gracefully formed poetry in motion

Lord knows 
My body yearned 
And needed the eloquence 
Your poetry provided 

Our poetry combined 
Gave birth to volcanic verses 
And flood-like rushes 
Of the most liberated conversation

My poet laureate
Thank you for allowing 
Your art to transcend 
Into poetic actions

Your ability to allow 
Your love to flow 
Like a pen on paper
Amazes me

When poets make love 
Sacred books 
Unlock their meanings 
And the majestic powers of words 
Fill the universe 
With marvelous expressions 

Our collaborated efforts 
Awakened the most powerful of poets 
Who long ago fell asleep
Happily summoned with the stars 
To congratulate our poetic bliss 

When we made love 
Our poetry was forever 
Imprinted in the hearts 
of all poets 
past, present, and yet to come


-Written and dedicated to a very dear poet (R.C.) 

© Monique McDowell 2008  All rights Reserved

Copyright © Monique McDowell | Year Posted 2008

Details | Free verse |
Let me love you like a poet would do.
Let me bite on the lid of my pen, thinking of you.
Let me write you down on pieces of paper and scribble you 
down on the back of notebooks.

Let me make sonnets to you and of you and fill your neck with haikus.
Let me translate you into polyglot texts and use dictionaries to decipher you. 
Let me spill black coffee on my verses of you and delight
in every bittersweet thought of you.
 
Let me use metaphors to transform you 
into a mockingbird or a blanket or  a fresh morning dew.
Let me love you, so theatrically, so dramatically, let me
be the moron of all the oxymorons I use to describe you.
Let me engage in a long soliloquy trying to fathom you 
and then weep helplessly, existentially like Hamlet would do.

Let me love you like a poet would do.
Let me love you with so much further ado.
Let me lose my senses and declaim my poetry to you,
and then lose myself in a jazz-like catharsis, singing to you. 
Let me implode and explode into a million little words, 
and a million little worlds loving you,
until I no longer am the poet.

Copyright © farah chamma | Year Posted 2014

Details | Prose Poetry |
He's staring off into oblivion;
dead-lights, who of their own free will choose to illuminate
the gray matter microwave that is TV:
too vain, too vulgar. Thought Vanquisher,
brought to you by your friendly-facade-keepers:
the politicians pussyfooting on a pedestal
built of an uninformed (yet united) public -
whose belief in "connection" is in reference
to a wall socket. Not love. Not kindness.
Who unwittingly become hamsters on a wheel,
convinced of stars held in our pockets; while promises of prosperity
dangle on a string. Like Maya's caged bird we sing
- but not of freedom - to sing of that would be akin
 to declaring the sun has risen in the east. Freedom is a given,
at least that's the belief that's bandied about.
There's a boldface lie in that belief . . staring us in the face.
Are we too ignorant to see or too coddled to care?
Organic antenna, playing a fuzzy station;
our loved one's voice like a pesky fly -
six-legged silhouette on precious phones.
Halfhearted hmms-and-yeahs exuding from lazy lips. A lone
wolf, misunderstood youth - the euphemisms of today,
tomorrow's regrets. The diarrhea of words floating
in cyberspace; ricocheting off planets, but never touching earth.
The constipation of passion - nonchalant bloodbath of values -
no one strong enough to carry the hearse. We'll have to work
together - in unity redirected - to carry the load of our ancestor's past.
We descendants who reap the aftermath; let's carry on and forgo the calm.
Complacency is no destiny to pursue; crack the bottle against the bow,
that ship has sailed. Let us dabble in truth, instead of sugarcoat lies;
deception maybe be sweet, but give it time, it'll go straight to your thighs.
Embrace controversy with a bear hug, and give tyranny a timeout.
And should our words sharpen swords instead of mold minds,
may the massacre be only metaphorical - and the white flag of truce
be mistaken for a canvas - painted with the blood of your passion.

Copyright © Timothy Hicks | Year Posted 2015

Details | Rhyme |
Poetry Thoughts

I write my poems in a deep thought
with the pain my life dearly bought
Lost, listening to my vanishing muse
this world's whispers I often use!

Words given by ancient gnarly trees
echoes embraced from tumbling seas
Sounds of silence in forested glen
far away from greed and wiles of men

Cry from distant stars or cold stone
shadows dancing by moonlight shown
Fleeting grabs at moments of serenity
promising future gift of infinity

I am giant tree reaching to the sky
spreading my limbs out and so high
Mirror of Life's fantastic desires
a creature cast from heavenly fires

I write my poems in a deep thought
with the pain my life dearly bought
Lost, listening to a vanishing muse
this world's whispers I often use!

Imagination brings sweet words to ink
volleys from ship impossible to sink
Heart beaten into indestructible bell
Sounding red rose, eating its smell

I am a river, flooding poetic page
servant of Nature, slave to my sage
Erupting volcano spewing heated ash
darkness that dares to live to smash

The great joy of seeing a newborn son
elation of finishing a marathon run
Memories of dancing in pouring rain
blessing of finding lost love again

I write my poems in a deep thought
with the pain my life dearly bought
Lost, listening to my vanishing muse
this world's whispers I often use!

__________________________
April 30, 2016

Rhyme

For the contest, Poetry _________ Fill in the Blank
sponsor, PD

Copyright © Robert Lindley | Year Posted 2016

Details | Prose Poetry |
He's infuriatingly...

pretty...

and I follow myself over his smile to find my eyes, promising uncertainty and chewing on
my bottom lip with the hunger that resides in...

love...

He rolled me over and kissed my dreams, his mouth became my salvation and I nailed myself
to the bedpost as we made love, my legs became morning while I screamed midnight to the
dawn...

and I had never seen such a beautiful sunrise, I had never seen the beginning color herself so
strangely...

I told him, as our eyes appeared shallow, as the light dimmed and he breathed summer on my
neck...

“Blue is blue, Dear, don't try to shade it with red.”

But he explained to me the art of bruises, he informed me the results were beautiful, and
he held up a mirror to my unmarked skin, places where the black and blue and...

purple...

has dissipated...

while he sheltered my chest with his hand, covering my heart with his palm, and told me
the results still beat...

in.me.

I cried, tears of the rain that once fell in April, and he held me, time slipping between
us, beads of sweat that spoke eternity and seven more months, and I spoke silently so he
could hear me, I whispered his name...

“God, you're beautiful,” he said on the second I realized the sadness had left me, that
she had found content and was studying the games we never played with the fascination of a
child, I touched his cheek with the surreal movements that occur when one has fallen and
been caught and smiled at the thought of us...

I sacrificed my pain that night, I handed it straight over to midnight when the day broke,
I blended the sunrise with blue and watched the sky turn purple with him right beside me,
I counted the minutes to eternity and he laughed at my obsessions as he told me I was...

beautiful...

as he drank my belief off my left shoulder with a kiss...

and I looked at him, in the light, my eyes deep with the memories of the sea, as I kissed
him, with a certainty I never questioned as tomorrow started forever...

and he would live inside me
for seven
more
months.



Copyright © JeanMarie Marchese | Year Posted 2007

Details | Free verse |
The island birds have done their work,
Fed their young, and now take roost
In swaying palms with the setting sun.
I too have filled my sunny day
With mundane chores, I've toiled away
Until this magical twilight hour...
When I drink my tea and wander
Over reams of creative poetry.

Your romantic words have inspired me...
Let me fly freely... through the galaxy.
Though evening news causes much disdain
Your brilliant words bring delight again.
Romance blooms from pen to paper 
In such vivid and fragrant floral bouquets.
So many forms and varieties I am astounded,
I can't take my weary eyes away!

The night is virginal and humid
As Jasmine releases her sultry scent...
Romance me with your tales of love
Which I respect as heaven sent.
As I read poems half through the night
They color dreams in dawn's twilight.

© Connie Marcum Wong 

Copyright © Connie Marcum Wong | Year Posted 2017

Details | Light Poetry |
  
The Perfect Story!!

.
ingredients.... How to write the perfect story?

 

Tonight I close my eyes, enter the realm in another form

Dig deep inside to find the ingredients for you~ "the Perfect Story?"

Find the enigma behind every expression of beauty

Locate the inspiration of the world  your heart seeks

Take your mind deep and far beyond every star

Position my thought with the best ingredients,

that afflicts the unique worlds only I experienced

***

***

First add the ingredient of self-attitude. ( POSITIVE )

Next unlock the skills that hold the masterpiece 

Exercise the role of timing, when setting the perfect line

Find a sidekick to help intervene every step without falling

Meet and bond with every word that makes the story unique

Feel the motion in both hands, while perceiving every step

Show off the ability that one can see more than others

Provide the details that feed the readers appetite

Hold a form of originality, impressing the readers imagination

Last create a mystery like no other, evoke the reads curiosity

"TO WANT MORE!"
Wait a second, you asked for A Story, 
Not, my inventory!!! 

:)

Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2011

Details | I do not know? |
*****To the naked EYE, this poem may seem like gibberish,
but I assure you it is loaded with 24 palindromes,
3 palindrome phrases, 1 hidden palindrome phrase,
and is chock full with enormous wordplay...
oh and one more palindrome in this description. 
Can you find more? I challenge you word freaks!*****


____SATAN OSCILLATE MY METALLIC SONATAS____

Last night, around eleven or so, I decided to paint a pink castle.
To my dismay, on display, is what looks more like a pink asshole.
Picasso would've been so proud!
Today, upon recording nothing short of a colossal debacle,
I've chosen to
utilize the eyes of a hostile apostle.
Tossing docile scribble, I'm scribing.
Describing life like a diatribe conniving REVIVER at a revival.

LIVE EVIL!

Palindrome EYE to the side of my tribe.
Get in line, standing at the hands of HANNA.

PULL UP.

RISE AND VOTE SIR!

EYE
LEVEL 
to 
NUN'S
BOOB.

WOW!

We OTTO-matically 
POP a PEEP at NOON!
DAD got so damn mad he DID the DEED
and split three XANAX with his MADAM and MOM!
(ALA the ABBA GIG way back in them AHA kookie KOOK days)

So anyways...
Back to peek hassle!
Do ya' think he might like ta' take a stab at my STATS?


*****(this was fun as fun can be:
hope you have half as much fun with it as I did:)*****

~JSLambert

Copyright © JSLambert Mister ROBOTO | Year Posted 2014

Details | Sonnet |
My sweetest love hearest thou my advice
Let's leave for the garden of sweet paradise
We will live under a rainbow with cherries
Eat sweet mangoes and bright berries;
Build a cottage in its midst with a skylight
Bake gingerbread as the sunsets at twilight
Shower in the misting rain on our lawn
Sing sweet songs with the birds at dawn;
Make fireflies’ lanterns soothing our mood
The ravens will bring us nourishing food
The sparrows will build our resting nest
Oh my love—my darling, my earnest:
Together we will wish upon a shining star,
And from each other we shall never be far!


~~~~~~~~~~~***~~~~~~~~~~~
© Revised 5/31/10
© All Rights Reserved
~~~~~~~~~~~***~~~~~~~~~~~

5th Place Winner - Parody Poetry Contest. 
Sponsored by Dr. Ram Mehta, 6/10/2010

~~~~~~~~~~~***~~~~~~~~~~~

Joseph S. Spence, Sr., is the author of "The Awakened One Poetics" (2009), which is 
published in seven different languages. He invented the Epulaeryu poetry form, which 
focuses on succulent cuisines and drinks. He is published in various forums, including the 
World Haiku Association; Poetinis Druskininku, Milwaukee Area College, Phoenix Magazine; 
Möbius Poetry, and Taj Mahal Review to name a few. Joseph is a Goodwill Ambassador for 
the state of Arkansas, USA, a college faculty, and a military veteran.

~~~~~~~~~~~***~~~~~~~~~~~

Copyright © Joseph Spence Sr | Year Posted 2008

Details | Prose Poetry |
                               

                                   ~ A Jealous Woman In Love~

             Since I barely slept I felt ill as tears blinded my vision 
                     heart broken burning with desire to see him 
        to hold him to kiss him love him more and show him that strong will 
                     through my eyes to make him understand 
            I am a woman and should not be judged because I am jealous
                  I am a woman deeply in love how can I not be jealous 
          I am jealous of his sheets caressing his body when we share our bed 
         I am jealous of his hair being part of him all day when I am not with him 
                  even his eyes when he sees the moon instead of me 
      I am jealous of his phone feeling his breath or using a knife and fork to eat                    
              as I only wish at the time to feed him and caress his lips
            Oh! I love him so much that I became jealous of his shadow 
         so jealous I drowned in my thoughts like a fish thrown on the shore 
          by the raging waves trying to breath to survive without the oceans 
                                               salty water.
                          

For the contest of Andrea Dietrich
a poem For The Honor Of My FAVE Poetry.
                                                
Therese Bacha  ( Win No.1)
9/4/2013

Copyright © Therese Bacha | Year Posted 2013

Details | Light Poetry |
I love you
I never kissed
I never touched
Yet I know
We are one
So now I hang my head
Alone
I am all done
Death becomes me more and more
Without you life has become a bore
I mount my horse and ride off
Into the mountains high
I am battle ready
A heart so scared
They call me brave heart, fierce and bold
I battle the infidels, behead em all
I am no brave lad, tiss for sure
If I was
I would battle you
For your love I long
Like spring flowers growing in battle scared fields
I have lost this war of passion I seek
You have castrated this warrior tall
Of Passions woes
I lie down
In graveyards sowed

Copyright © arthur vaso | Year Posted 2014

Details | Light Poetry |
Where Are The Words …
I Am Looking For Words …
… That Will Give Meaning
To Meeting You, This Evening

And What Can I Say ? …
What I Long To Say …
Instead of, Good To See You Friend
And Oh, How Have You Been ?

… Such Polite Conversation
Is Safe Presentation
Nothing More … So Much Less
I Need Hunger- Honestness

Packed With A Passion
Full-Out Conflagration
Instead of A Shy, Dulcet Tone
I Wanna Torch-Talk You, To The Bone !

Use Words, To Sear You To Your Soul
Singe, Deep Inside Your Soul
Soft and Husky In Confessions
Words, That Demand Actions

Emotive, Elusive, Essential
Elocution of The Quintessential
Romanticism Expressed …
The Pleasure Of Your Face, Eagerness

In Bold Explorations, Evolved
From Virgin-Feelings of First Love
That Make It Seem … Like Last Night
Invoking Future Visions, So Bright !

Oh, Where Are The Words ? …
I Am At A Loss For Words …
So Many Things, I Want To Let You Know …
Instead of Just Saying … ‘ Hello ’…


              For:  Ismael Nieves 
Who Has Such A Passionate Style To His Poems
(and Also, The Little Joke of Big Words Between Us …
Hope You Enjoy This One Kiddo - Smile)

Copyright © MoonBee Canady | Year Posted 2009

Details | Haiku |
the ink in my pen 
flows into a wild river
abiding eddies—

Connie Marcum Wong

Copyright © Connie Marcum Wong | Year Posted 2015

Details | Dramatic Verse |
RAINDROPS OF IMMORTALITY Smiles were stolen from me long time ago Days gone gray as storms rush to play: my... They drain. Fervently, I called to the Heavens but it seems no one there. No one there! I lullaby with the whine of gushing winds, hoping they are kind enough to blow my notes. Notes carrying cries when am still a child as 'til this day, I yearn for father's love... I face every facets of life in color white, some brushed my lips with grins and laughter, some stitched the screams of November yet passed they left footprints to remember. There in the azure ambiance, love's dare~ I bit the chance but sadly I fell distant, my sweet red heart weep from bitter thrusts. Easing emptiness within, I refuse to be a victim. I prayed, pleading always for a Saviour kiss just maybe through it, I might die in peace. (Is death the better surrendering deliverance? Or just an acrid escape for suicidal goodbyes?) I chose God for I prefer to love and live into poetry I began rhyming a letting go the quill of a poetess, I bravely try: verses and lyrics my healing balm... Tossed flowers from the changing seasons and so the smells of pancakes and cafe flirt slatternly to my imagination bursting from me a ballad or a sonnet. But oh! Poetic finesse is a gold in a mine hence, I dig, dive to curves and loops presenting always my jolly descent views... Others said images I present confuse, they don't know, they are the nightmares creeping, shaking my lethargic muse. Written free, I asked you to read carefully~ I send messages of love, beauty and maladies... My pen scribbles mom ore unchained melodies for my heart slowly erects from slumber. It somersaults upon the breaking swell of sunrise in this tediously solitary realm of the world. The horrible webs of yesterday's frustrations I untangled from life's hullabaloos... Shattered dreams into my ink, I shall reform unencompassable inspirations, I want to rouse. Grace from God refilled, it empowered my life surging heartbeats pushed me to clamor for change. I stand to blossom amidst imprisoning trials yet never forgetting my humble ground. Coupled with the will to survive all strifes let my living be mirrored to pages and when breath of life is cut from me let my pen be raindrops of immortality. ____________________________________________________________ Sponsor Name: Silent One Contest Name: Your final poem ~~3rd Place~~ ++ POEM of the DAY ~ August 30, 2015 ++ © Olive Eloisa Guillermo 10:57 pm. August 28, 2015

Copyright © Olive Eloisa Guillermo | Year Posted 2015

Details | Light Poetry |
Love went to the liquor store
She bought a bottle
Drank until the bottle was dry
Walked on over to the hardware store
Where there she bought a hunting knife


Love sliced open my chest
Her hands grasped my heart
She had a hearty meal
Dropping her knife
She walked away in the dark

Love stole my heart

Copyright © arthur vaso | Year Posted 2015

Details | Light Poetry |
                                             


                                    My eyes gazing at a beautiful sunset
                                         It is as if the sky is full of fire
                                A fireworks display of nature`s own colors
                               A colorful explosion from the higher powers
                              The wonderful sight creates a glow in the sky
                                       Can not find it on any photograph
                                    it must be seen and felt in your heart
                                  Harmony and a silence of body and soul
                                       Embraced by the light and colors
                                             How wonderful it can be
                                     Standing there......enjoy the sun
                                            who kisses you goodnight





  A-L Andresen :)
  Copyright © All Rights Reserved




Copyright © Sunshine Smile | Year Posted 2012

Details | Sonnet |
Beloved, turn off the lights; speak to me;
Is your heart to be evermore my own,
does my name slip from your lips silently...
content, that I should need ne'er more to moan.
~
Beloved, watch close loves acquainted eyes;
reflections holds no secrets from within.
For the souls bidding eyes will ne'er tell lies,
remember, doubt not… your want is my sin.
~
Beloved, wilt thou walk with me through dreams,
come lay with me as if I were dying?
Kiss my mouth, give me water from your stream;
listen love...the voice of the rain’s crying.

Loves lives through winters cold, summers fire,
though daybreak begins, as the night retires.

Copyright © T.Nicole Williams | Year Posted 2014

Details | Light Poetry |
Such deep amber green eyes
Stare into me
Like arrows that so delicately pierce my heart
She is covered in a curtain of black woven cloth
Ah but her hair flows like caramel 
She is concealed and wrapped, the camouflage of fear
The burka hiding the princess within
I may not see with my eyes
Oh but how my heart dreams
Of running in the meadows, laughter at our own happiness
Her voice is musical, and softly charms my soul
I am lost in illusions, of this woman in chador
She hides inside this blackness
Her heart protected by dragons
In the dragons lair so deep
I gaze intently into this darkness
I breathe the fire of rejection
I have no chance with this maiden of such beauty
You see
Her dress is blue like the summer breeze
Her hair blonde like the golden skies
She is the desire of many a suitor
As she sleeps in the drum tower
High above all of loves intentions
The bailey her only wanderings
As you see the only burka she ever wore
Was around her heart

Copyright © arthur vaso | Year Posted 2014

Details | Couplet |
An Echo Through Time
 
An echo through time follows all now in kind;
It’s the moment when poets find their rhyme!

Past-Present events give us a mirror to see from,
Of what Present Perfect events have now become.

Poets must write to truth what surely they mean;
With such wondrous verses the reader shall glean!

Writing with tone, tenor and syncopation is grand,
Giving poets that mellifluous effect desired by plan.

The echo quality of a great poem bespeaks its passion,
Whilst its literary panache shall always be in fashion!

An echo reflects a poem’s true resonance by intention;
Ensuring one’s mind shifts to an intellectual dimension.

Poets’ rendezvous with this echo through time is divine;
It helps us enshrine our thoughts now in continuous time!

Gary Bateman, Copyright © All Rights Reserved,
November 27, 2015 (Rhymed Couplet)

Copyright © Gary Bateman | Year Posted 2015

Details | Verse |
Financiers feel superior to farmers
and pundits have it over poets.
All to the good because if you think America's
doing just fine, don't skip to the poetry reviews.
Our enemies are barbarous, our allies duplicitous
but our smart bombs are smart - that's how they found you.

Dad said all wars are resource wars. Follow
the money. The world needs more order, nothing
less than Nazis, never may the anarchic man's thoughts
be my thoughts, each shove sends a ping,
shields urge on shields, helmets helmets, we can be
the reigning kings between the last empire and the next

or implement a vision of collective deliberation
and binding agreements. Can China's navy
be harnessed to ensure free passage through
the South China Sea? We'll see how
things work out in the next generation.
In the meantime should I read Henry Kissinger's meditations?

He who thinks poetry's effete
probably considers Darwin a geek and Einstein
a postal clerk. Containment means leaving space
for the passionate and zealous to face themselves
and giving them missiles that don't work.
Slowing everyone down until one thing's done well -

governance or sustenance or brotherhood.
When violence comes to the neighborhood
the hierarchy will hold or fold, it is then the peace work proves relevant.
Failing to achieve understanding, we're searching outer space
for an entity to unite us as humanity.
That person, or city, is consciousness.

By that what is meant. Sitting still and thinking deeply
on the relation of anger to coercion,
systems for correcting the decisions of earlier presidents.
We're required to report incidents of depression
to a doctor because you're a valued member of of our community,
or so insignificant no one notices or cares.

How necessary the interface of war and poetry!





Copyright © Robert Ronnow | Year Posted 2015

Details | Light Poetry |

                                         The pleasure of life
                               is the happiness together with you
                                       I can feel the happiness
                        throughout my body as a wonderfully warm
                                   that spread pleasure in my life
                                      Love in every breath ....
                     Love in your eyes when you smile at me and says:

                                    "I love you with all my heart !"

                                            

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                           *           *
                             *       *
                               *   *
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                                 *

     
                                                                             


04.10.2012
A-L Andresen :)
Copyright © All Rights Reserved

Copyright © Sunshine Smile | Year Posted 2012

Details | Light Poetry |

Musical renditions
The voice in unison, together we chante
Strings play their story
In harmony fate sings along
The winds blow in from the sea
The sun runs away
We are the band of the night
With whiskey we sing and play
We are young and we are old
The night breeze carries the tunes
I may be fao, and I may be inebriated
Harps and chords, strings to be strummed
I see you stare, would you like a Rum?
You know what you want
So close your eyes
The kiss will be sweet
Tomorrow you may fly away
Tonight the strings they are all in play

String me along
Not for long
All strings fall
Naked is your deception
The strings are all gone


Notes "chante" pronouncec shante, = sing in french
Fao = ugly in Spanish

Copyright © arthur vaso | Year Posted 2014