Inamorata Poems

A Song Of Home

Inamorata you’re beguiling,
I greet hurkle-durkle so often;
That sweet vibrato is enthralling,
I have to capture it with my pen.

Lost myself to the affinity  
to stay beside you every second,
let’s seduce this fine proclivity; 

How is it you simply entice?
Your voice in the background will suffice. 

How you move the rhythm as you sing!
Temperamental bells ease and soften,  
it mellows out reality’s sting.
I indulge, taking no precaution.

Is it a stage personality
that has shaken my core and beckoned?
Sound has stolen my lucidity;

In flux over how I pay the price 
to experience this paradise.

With a presence that is so winsome,
I have a penchant for keeping time;
My sweetheart your song resembles home.

The waves and her

The waves&her

Along the waves she ambles 
Prevailing the ocean elysian 
The longing feel of a hiraeth 
Sensual, her cheeks aflush; An inamorata. 
She gently rubs her eyes and sees- 
the bewitching phosphenes: 
Ludic, And apricate.
Among the waves she stood, in-stillness. 
The aurora reflecting on her eyes. 
In werifesterias, she questions and halts, 
The alexithymia she relishes
Then she ruminates with a glee. 
The ocean flows mellifluous- 
Dulcet. So orphic.

Away from the waves she walks, 
Ephemeral, on the way to her metanoia 
Absquatulate.

Pygmalion

He had a Galatea named Deidre.
His plastic inamorata.

Considering his advanced age
she was also his Lolita.
Together, they canoodled in secret.

Time passed,
it began to dawn upon him,
that Deidre’s sexual demands
grew ever stronger.

He lost sleep, grew weak of limb,
his health failed,
until he could no longer manage
for himself.

In the end,
she had to carry him around,
like a doll.

Does Love Surpass All Miracles

Everything said, everything thought and done
is stored in the subconsciousness of a memorable tune; 
a whole life was spent in search of gratification,
of that sweetheart to convert this restless dreamer
to love, to show his amorous and changeless affection
in ways that eloquently expressed the exquisite art of lover!

Does love surpass all miracles doubtingly conceived
in the credulous mind, expecting thrills and kisses
in form of heavenly bliss, or a fulfillment of greed?  
The wisher of resonant allusions was entirely convinced
to succeed with his cunning by offering petty gifts 
to entrap the feeblest heart used to sweet whispers!

Who loves the drama of a tragic end in any somber narrative? 
Of course, the joker with a hilarious and derisive laughter!
Does he care that what he says is no offense to provoke anger 
in the jeering crowd that mocks him for being insensitive?

My honor was fairly, amply given and adamantly received,
I have left no murmuring lips in suspense; dear Heaven: my honesty
wasn't derided but perceived well and sealed in their endeared memory!
Precious inamorata, love surpasses all miracles as mine did!

Capital Lover

Companion?
not yet

Girlfriend?
no 
(nondescript and tired)

Sweetheart?
the heart is deeper than that
it’s not coated in Honey
the word doesn’t do you justice 

Beloved?
ah to be loved
a misconstrued formation -yes
the creation of words is vital

Darling
hold me in your grasp
in the
Dearest
of all embraces 
a touch enlightens like a 
Flame red 

my
Inamorata  
my
Paramour 

you keep me
Steady 
you my 
Suppliant of pure intentions 

i
Swain in your presence 
you the 
Recipient of my eternal bliss
my one and only
Truelove 

you -my
Valentine

A Kind of Pygmalion

He had a Galatea named Deidre.
His plastic inamorata.

Considering his advanced age
she was also his Lolita.

Deidre and he would climax together.
while he played his essential part.
For a while he sparked and enkindled.

Canoodling in domestic bliss,
he would dress her,
paint her toenails, apply makeup;
see to her every need.

It seemed to him
that Deidre’s sexual demands 
grew stronger.
He lost sleep, grew weak of limb,
his health failed,
until he could no longer manage
for himself.

In the end
she had to carry him everywhere 
like a doll.

Inamorata

Images keep flipping through
Of my blissful inamorata
Though in absolute darkness i am placed
I refuse to show any cynicism

Perplexed i am at the servitude
On with my toga of trust
I bring forth my gauntlet

To relief myself of any troubles
Put forth by other admirers
I seek a panacea
To help conquer them all
Who don't want my being with my inamorata
For i am humble inamorato

Flipping through my mind
Indeed its all but a cliché
Mu inexpressable love for this damsel
Is something unseen

A sudden urge runs in me
Unworthy i see myself of it
Having in possession of this rare gem
Hesitant i am,reluctant i feel
But proudly i confess
My love for her i wish
She replicates it i need
Her love for me in return
Unfailingly i proceed
To call her my lover
Oh!yes she is
My lover!

A Reverie Forged By Avina Netu

My fantasy was spawned from her
Her eyes have drawn me to the Vermillion light
Witnessing the gaze of a glistened perfection
Midst the whirl of Gemini
Bedazzled whirl of Mercury's kindred spirit
Enthralled by the ascending clarity
She douses me with the feeling of luminosity
Wrapped by the robe of lust
Being greeted by the endless forms most beautiful
Captivated by the Vastness of corresponding dreams integrated
A flowing free Swanheart, a constellation seeping allure
Impulse dwelling, vison dwelling by a shook desire
To bide by my own ecstasy of ardor
In my state of reverie I see her alleviating from her attire
I can't help myself, to be driven by a woman of my attraction
Flaunting her soul case, I'm in need of passion
To be an admirer of a visualizing frame
A flame haze takes me
Burning fervently, I can hear her sighs
Hooked by the lace of binding flare
Sweetened aroma from the fairest inamorata
Traced by the crystal grace of thy heart
O body, O mind, O soul
Bending the perfume scented space
Just a bundle thoughts pursuing images of splendor
A revealing view, a window opening reality
Avina Netu is my fantasy

Oh, My Dear

My heart is empty... empty my worlds are...!!
My breaths are incomplete... incomplete my presence is...!!
My heart is looking ... Looking for you every time...!!
My heart is wanting ... Wanting you to be here every time...!!
My sole is empty... Empty my visions are...!!
My breaths are empty... Empty my existence are...!!

My life is burden ... Burden it is without you...!!
My happiness is falling a short to touch... To touch my heart without you...!!
Empty breath ... Empty vision... Looks empty everywhere...!!
Without you empty I am... Empty my heart is...!!
Inamorata you are... Inamorata of mine...!!
No-one realize how precious you are... How precious for mine...!!
My heart says it will beat forever .... forever for you ...!!
My world starts from you... It will be forever of you...!!
My sole is empty... Empty my visions are...!!
My breaths are empty... Empty my presence is...!!

Inamorata - Wordsworth Sestet

Will you soon speak to me of thy love, Joan
Tell me that you want me as I want you
Can I endure a callous bile adieu
from thy lips most cerise, soft, tender, sweet,
from those which solely I have ever known.
Let’s share, inamorata, time is fleet.

Leman Strife

Twenty cigarette ashes in the ivory ashtray
Symbol of the impatience burned as smoke
The inamorata sits in the pink chaise lounge
Waiting for inamorato arriving to love nest

Photos found under the bed tied off an arguing
Another affair developed without her knowledge
Feeling betrayed, although fidelity was not an asset
Stripped photos and dispersed pieces over the bed

Inamorato opened the bedroom door and screamed
Hidden dalliance loomed as as a storm in the future 
Reproaches ended with the rupture of unlawful love
Leaving forever the tormentous and sinful romance






(Fictional)

Say Now

You who in autumn followed here a spring
From your deserted lands and did find me
Wanderer lost on my lean path; are you?
Or was destiny’s die cast too soon?

Are you to curse, or from curses to free?
To make or break me? Answer faithfully.
For you’ve dwindled in grace so close to naught, 
Your subtlety (like on a bus) got off.
You seem to crave the spaces between us more,
Or perhaps I am no one that you can love.
I am the same one, say now who you are.
Soul murder-er? Or inamorata?

Say now to permit me yet, or to not,
To give myself to you, or yet to not.
Say quick and release us on either turn –
To leave and let me live, or be the one.

An Old Man Falls In Love

All right, I admit it.
It's hopeless, and I have no shame.
Fact is that I may say what ever I wish,
listen back without a reddened countenance,
shed all compunction, even modesty
if my accoutrement begins to interfere.

Yes, I am smitten; the hours disappear
when we are face to face.
I'm lavish when the passion flows;
heat best serves emotion as it cools.
Manipulation with my fingers only shows
that I'm aware of all the tools
progressive schools of thought may teach
the tender-aged as well as touch
the ones of aged tenderness.

And of my lips?
Well, not so much; they cannot
perfectly express my ardor now.
This autocratic ancient lover finds himself
content to have technology supply
the object of his worldly desire--
this computer is his one and only
paramour, inamorata, fire.
        ~

My Wife Supernova

With her motherly self
At peace with herself
A flawless expression
Of Mother nature’s rendition

A brimming supernova
She’s still my inamorata
Through to her third trimester 
Glowing with carefree laughter

She’s beauty and grace
A delicate, but uncertain face
Yes, she accepts her responsibility
A lioness, this she does diligently

Hormonal maybe, I still love my wife
I've never seen a stronger force of life
She's a sensual life giving soul
I’m indeed a fortunate fool

I don't purpose to ask why
When she breaks down and cry
I let her know it's okay
I love you (both), I care

Faye To My Fear

My heart for you overflows into a waterfall of turbulence
As lady Victoria falls a thousand feet of jubilance
The spark lingers on long after you disappear
My eyes learning to see only when you reappear

Inamorata, you are my guilty pleasure, my only leisure 
I indulge in you quietly like an aloof voyageur
Engrossed in the subtle rhythm of the drum
Beating in the gentle choreography of your bum

In your waltz I have found the tempo to my life
Your poise gives purpose to my daily strife
I wish to make you the statue of my liberty
And walk flame in hand through eternity

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