Love Tritina Poems | Examples
These Love Tritina poems are examples of Tritina poems about Love. These are the best examples of Tritina Love poems written by international poets.
The farm I loved, my ancient homeplace
A families love, God given grace
Though poor then now those memories embrace
I learned to be somewhat independent, life embrace
So much to explore on that old homeplace
So lucky to be covered and blessed by God's grace
The whole family worked hard, filled with grace
There was plenty of food, nature I did embrace
That farm will always for me be my homeplace
Homeplace,
Grace
Embrace
The autumn day is beautiful and sweet,
and the sounds of nature ring loud and sharp;
I stand listening to a lone bird song.
His tweets, chirps and twirls an echoing song,
I am in awe of his melody sweet;
and then, the wind answers in whispers sharp.
Somewhere, a tree branch breaks with a crack sharp,
disturbing tranquility of this song;
I love nature and the hidden sounds sweet.
Let this sweet, sharp, song ever drift and float.
September is busting out all over,
leaves with pretty colors,
fill the cool air.
A new sweater for the cool morning air,
will keep me warm as I pick up pretty leaves over and over.
I love the red and orange colors.
Birds of many colors,
are singing as they are flying through the air,
they keep going to the bird feeder many times over.
September will be over with new colors to fill the winter's air.
If love has a compass I’m still lost,
I’ve gotten used to going without.
Stable adventures have no direction.
Whimsical breath blows direction
trying to guide a spirit feeling lost.
I’m on the hunt for what I’m without.
Passion you just cant live without,
send me at once in that direction.
I’d like to let go of longing and lost.
I was built out of lost without direction.
Defined as nothing other than sheer,
what else do you say about this mess?
Whittled down only resilience is left.
When all you see is a cold shoulder left
that next move never comes off sheer.
Your insides are now a four letter mess.
Regardless of this unpredicted mess,
there was so much raw intensity left.
Courage wrapped in passion so sheer.
Stumbling in this sheer mess I never left.
Achingly slow the way that we kissed,
enjoying the entrapment we laid in.
You commemorated this with cursive.
The soft swirl and soft hand of cursive
matched us as the paper was kissed.
Italics bold as your tongue trucked in.
It was comforting how you creeped in
with flirtation flowing in pristine cursive.
Immortality penned the way you kissed.
A love letter french kissed in cursive.
Baby, give me a waterfall
overflowing the cliffs of love,
create a river to my heart.
You, the momentum of my heart,
like a galvanic waterfall,
stoking the current's flow of love.
If doctors could cardiograph love,
and chart its flow within my heart,
the graph would show a waterfall~
a waterfall of love into the river of my heart.
Each letter is one of the wildflowers;
On perfumed paper a love note written
as if dipped in such delicate language;
A universal unspoken language
that motley scent of wildflowers;
The most ancient alphabet written;
It’s so sweet and so simply written
you inhale the most intimate language;
Vagabond smells just like wildflowers;
Wildflowers have a written language.
Love’s scars, such exquisite markings;
Branded with a faded fine line stain,
you’ve taken me taken my heart;
Handle it gingerly this fragile heart
it has become tender with markings;
Such emotion is known to stain;
Scabbed imprint of that bloody stain
embellishes so splintered a heart;
Always distracted by those markings;
Red ink markings stain your heart.
Swimming in the blind; feeling by electricity
Puddin found her without ever eying; the food he was relying
Their connection developed slowly; for neither found the other clutch
They shifted emotional transmissions; with no clutch
Twirling into a whirlpool of affectionate electricity
Never once expecting to find a mate worth relying
Surveying a riparian bank; of safety relying
She mothered his eggs; of three in the clutch
Now, a sentry of protection for his loves electricity
Back hunting with electricity, in he; Tritinas' relying, a devotion so clutch
My heart resembles the fragility of a petal.
Blossoming behind metaphors within poetry.
The beauty is in the grandeur of their silence.
I portray my words for you to study my silence,
but you seem blind to how I'm wilting like a petal.
You always seem to believe it's the art of poetry.
Would you still love me if I stopped writing poetry.
Could you comprehend my timid tongue's silence,
so I bloom in your garden as an evergreen petal.
Seek my petal soul in poetry, beyond the silence.
Shelves filled with all kinds of books,
will take a plain wall and make it pretty,
this makes real beauty for you and I.
Maybe some hot rose tea for you and I,
while we enjoy reading some books,
the pink rose flower china is very pretty.
The hot rose tea makes me feel pretty,
this wall of books is for you and I,
we will always love our many books.
I love tea and books, they make me feel pretty.
I watch whirling shadows, as lovers are hugging.
Disco lights tug at my heart like a small child.
The low punchbowl is both shallow and deep.
My fixation becomes both shallow and deep,
gazing upon alluring couples hugging.
I was always alone, even as a child.
Oh, the shadowed daydreams of a child....
A prince would kiss my hand; our love would be deep.
In royal attire, we'd be twirling and hugging.
Hugging the wall, like a child in the deep pool, I rise up.
11-5-2023
Breezes rock the park - a soft sway of sun.
They are rosebud-faced, floral lace-swaddled,
sun-smiley; rapt eyes watching butterflies.
Their fingers dance in air like butterflies.
They are plump peaches ripening in sun -
sweetest fruits of parent care, love-swaddled.
Little one, I think of you, heart-swaddled
but free to fly soul skies with butterflies;
rising in my mind each day like the sun.
Your soul flits with sun-swaddled butterflies.
Seasons change, love remains; my heart stays soft.
In marital bond, your touch soothes the hard.
Though less gentle fondness falls from your mouth.
Through gale storms and glee, I have held my mouth.
In the autumn of our lives, I need soft,
lambent serenades to supplant the hard.
Each cycle through time has made your bind less hard.
Weathering me brought you down to your knees, soft.
Still no affinities fall from your mouth.
My lover's mouth, blustery and hard, be soft.