Love Sweet Poems

Not So Sweet

It's EVOLUTION,
"BOOMER!"

: The Cockroach Said
To The Real Dinosaur...

A Word Hard To...
Wait...

  1. Vocal Box
  2. Sound Distinction
  3. Lexicon Of Language
 

Sweet to Die

If in thy love I meet my mortal end, how sweet to die,
Or if thy breath restores my soul, what joy draws nigh.

Thou art an

Whispering sweet desires in tears that flow like honey through the shattered soul

Whispering sweet desires in tears that flow like honey through the shattered soul,
Giggling, we forget if we laugh or cry in this dance of sacred

SWEET SCENTED UNITY

SWEET SCENTED UNITY

Scenting their sweet love,
In their black and white ones,
Two skunks seeking birth:-

Cashmere Nights

We cuddle close in cashmere sheets,?
Trading secrets, life’s sweet feats.?
You bring the funds, I bring the charm,?
Together, babe, we do no harm. 

Before you, nights

Hiku: sweet love sings in hearts

be the ~r~h~y~t~h~m~~
of the °°p°°o°°e°°m°° my h¦e¦a¦r¦t 
                 

under your banner

The Story's Not Over

I've finally reached it
What I'll call the end
A volume of poems
For my special friend
A thousand that took me
Three years to construe
And all of these poems
Were

Hiku: love without fault

all I n
           e
           

Coasters Stop You From Seeping Into Me, Do I Secretly Want You To?

I cradle you in both hands—
the cup is hotter than the blood in me.
I sip until my tongue blisters,
as if pain is the only proof
that

Heart of an Angel

Something so pure that it felt scars of the past!
Betrayal from others is what they felt!
As it looks at it gift they pontificate whether they

infinities

...                        

When Her Soul Touched My Flame

She came to me not in footsteps,
but in frequencies—
a humming echo wrapped in incense,
like moonlight clothed in ancient perfume.

Her name was Safaa,
a syllable the stars

Hiku: love lives in hearts

           it's g
            

My Admiration For A Hand-Woven Tapestry

Each thread hums —
drawn by patient hands,
dyed in storms and thaw.

The base is pale as morning frost,
fibers holding winter’s quiet breath.
Across it, ribbons of shifting