Your hand
As so inclined
Am I to show that love refined
Itself to friendship
Yet in that lowly
Friendly act
There still remains the simple fact
As lips touch skin
Respectful blessing
Is released
And worried brow becomes uncreased
For lips they linger..
Just a while..
To transfer more than just a smile
They wish to walk the extra mile
From wrist
To forearm
Where friends desist
And love walks slowly from the mist
And yet..
This happens
In the mind
Forgive the drift from 'love refined'..
As thought constrained
And locked away
In hopeful future such love remains
A warmth, cold daytime life detains
In daydreams
Categories:
paolo, for her, friendship, friendship
Form: Ekphrasis
Watching outside the glass window
Water filling-up our garden 's meadow
When the rain and wind begun to splash
I closed my eyes reminiscing our past.
Let's start reviewing before the seven calendars
Turn the pages back of the classic memoir
When you reach the first part, let's sit and start
Never leave, never skip let the pages show it's part.
Two characters in their sweet beginning
Their story in climax foretells heartbreaking
Ending - the witness of my lonely love story
The untold feelings remain in one's memory.
I'll let the storyteller reveals the secrets
For I don't have the courage to unseal what i feel
Hear the storyteller in this poem
Hear the heartbeat before I'll move on.
Categories:
paolo, break up, friend, lost
Form: Ballad
June Paolo
Joyful not jinx
Understanding not underestimating
Never give up never lay
Excellent you are suppose to be
Perfect you should claim
Arise you aim
Overwhelmed well applauded
Lots of praise
Oh! My good, child stand up and race!
Categories:
paolo, son,
Form: Acrostic
As Hermes once took to his feathers light,
When lulled Argus, baffled, swooned and slept,
So on a Delphic reed, my idle spright
So played, so charmed, so conquered, so bereft
The dragon-world of all its hundred eyes;
And seeing it asleep, so fled away,
Not to pure Ida with its snow-cold skies,
Nor unto Tempe, where Jove grieved a day;
But to that second circle of sad Hell,
Where in the gust, the whirlwind, and the flaw
Of rain and hail-stones, lovers need not tell
Their sorrows. Pale were the sweet lips I saw,
Pale were the lips I kissed, and fair the form
I floated with, about that melancholy storm.
Categories:
paolo, art, imagination,
Form: Acrostic