i like my body when it is with your
body. It is so quite a new thing.
Muscles better and nerves more.
i like your body. i like what it does,
i like its hows. i like to feel the spine
of your body and its bones, and the trembling
-firm-smooth ness and which i will
again and again...
in beauty, like the night
Of cloudless climes and starry skies;
And all that's best of dark and bright
Meet in her aspect and her eyes;
Thus mellowed to that tender light
Which heaven to gaudy day denies.
One shade the more, one ray the less,
Had half impaired the nameless...
As if, through a mist, a first loom;
You are a fine line that holds beauty
So fragile it seems, yet so pretty.
You are the wind that grace my meadows
Of thoughts and lights up my weary shadows;
You are the sun after my night
That lights up everything in sight.
He creates powerfully romantic, sensual images that speak to being human, and our desire for romantic love. Beautiful!
Place your hands upon me
like a big tent preacher
and with a whisper
heal all that aches
Put your lips upon my forehead
and glance your eyes
to the sky...
Silent and starving, I prowl through the streets.
Bread does not nourish me, dawn disrupts me, all day.
I hunt for the liquid measure of your steps.
I hunger for your sleek laugh,
your hands, the color of a savage harvest,
hunger for the pale stones of your...
I will take you to museums, and parks, and monuments, and kiss you in every beautiful place, so that you can never go back to them without tasting me like blood in your mouth.
I will destroy you in the most beautiful way possible. And when I leave you will finally understand...
that I’ll actually wake up to.
Your laugh is that one song they play way too much on the radio, but for some reason, I still love it.
Your smile is the only thing that makes me hate mornings a little less.
Your hands are my security, like knowing that even when I drive you...
it happens so often I think we're
friends. I try to shake it, turn it around , find a reason not to frown. It starts with a feeling deep insidde. that itch on my mind that I can't unwind, I don't feel sorry for myself, I pray alot and don't deceive myself , I see quite clearly...
have taken up residence within my heart... but more than other, this poem holds a beautiful lasting significance...
i carry your heart with me(i carry it in]
i carry your heart with me(i carry it in
my heart)i am never without it(anywhere
i go you go,my dear;and whatever is...
and suggestions please!
We were fed these tales, that as we got older seemed less and less true.
And I was told that once upon a time, when we were small
We were told story after story known as fairytales
We were shown this alternate world of mystical creatures and magical...
Loneliness is what i feel
I feel so alone
I feel so isolated
The emptyness in my heart
Can not be feeled by any soul
I am surounded by people but yet i feel so alone
I am in a room so small and so dark
Fear takes over me, i scream but no one hears me
This room so small and tiny...
who was wonderful and so very funny. We attended his funeral, a few days ago, and this poem was read. It was found in a schoolbook he had kept for over 70 years.
Spring Morning by A.A. Milne
Where am I going? I don't quite know.
Down to the stream where the king-cups...
but I look up to see where I have but I have gone nowhere. So I gave up on running away from the pain so I buried it but it didn't work. It rained everyday and it just washed up my pain. I realized I couldn't hide from it I had embrace it. The more I embraced it the more it ate...
she wasn’t simple. she was crazy and sometimes she barely slept. she always had something to say. she had flaws and that was ok. and when she was down, she got right back up. she was a beast in her own way, but one idea described her best. she was unstoppable and she took...
after many years
of hard work and a long voyage
you stand in the centre of your room,
house, half acre, square mile, island, country
knowing at last how you got there,
and say I own this,
is the same moment when the trees unloose
there soft arms from around you,
the birds take...
Everything in my head went quiet.
All the ticks, all the constantly refreshing images just disappeared.
When you have Obsessive Compulsive Disorder, you don’t really get quiet moments.
Even in bed, I’m thinking:
Did I lock the doors? Yes.
Did I wash my hands? Yes.
that seemed to be enough for
Two teenagers who were scared to
Love one another...
I look at you
And I realize how much I love you
And that terrifies me
It terrifies me what I would do for you...
It doesn't interest me what you do for a living. I want to know what you ache for and if you dare to dream of meeting your heart's longing.
It doesn't interest me how old you are. I want to know if you will risk looking like a fool for love, for your dream, for the adventure of...
S. Thomas, called 'January':
The fox drags its wounded belly
Over the snow, the crimson seeds
Of blood burst with a mild explosion,
Soft as excrement, bold as roses.
Over the snow that feels no pity,
Whose white hands can give no healing,
The fox drags its wounded belly.
Lights a candle
To make sure your not alone
Watching you from a far
Your lost soul
Is still full of flames
What's your name?
The night sky would like to know
Your beloved soul
Is merely a gift
Even if your lost at sea
And continues to drift
Fate will find...
Ill never leave you
Ill be by your side
I have your back
Be your shoulder to lean on
I'm here when you cry
I love and adore you
You know that's true
You make me feel special
No one does that but you
Every text I get
I smile with thrill
To know that I'm loved...
not lost in you,
Not lost, although I long to be
Lost as a candle lit at noon,
Lost as a snowflake in the sea.
You love me, and I find you still
A spirit beautiful and bright,
Yet I am I, who long to be
Lost as a light is lost in light.
Oh plunge me deep in love—put out
There is a pleasure in the pathless woods,
There is rapture on the lonely shore,
There is society, where none intrudes,
By the deep sea, and music in it's roar:
I love not man the less, but Nature more,
From these our interviews, in which I steal,
From all I may be, and...
isn’t wasted at the end of the day
When you’re in bed thinking about all the things
You could’ve done,
You could’ve said,
All the empty boxes left on your to do list
Time is wasted
When you’re standing on a rock at the edge of a waterhole
And decide to not jump...
before deletion. I came to EP 3 years ago to share poetry and I shall leave sharing poetry. Enjoy this one by Robert Frost. Farewell. :)
NOTHING GOLD CAN STAY by Robert Frost
Nature's first green is gold
Her hardest hue to hold.
Her early leaf's a flower;
Oh, Sadness, what do you feel like?
In this life, I'm untouched by any of your caresses.
Or any of the gropes of any of your relative emotions.
But I'm supposed to be feeling overcome with Grief!
As I stand here at the weary local Train Station,
Gazing off from the isolated...
multiply my senses, feeling your love’s ocean.
Your river of flame rushes all over me,
kissing with burning desires escaping free.
Your hungry lips consume me, touching my skin,
and I feel the entire world shake and spin.
Your warm breath whispers sweet words of love...
So you know everything. You leap
into the boat and begin rowing. But listen to me.
Without fanfare, without embarrassment, without
any doubt, I talk directly to your soul. Listen to me.
Lift the oars from the water, let your arms rest, and
your heart, and heart’s little...
be quite possessed;
Lay that on your heart,
My young angry dear;
This truth, this hard and precious stone,
Lay it on your hot cheek,
Let it hide your tear.
Hold it like a crystal
When you are alone
And gaze in the depths of the icy stone.
Long, look long and you will be...
come to meas a bird.So I build you a bird house.Centuries agoyou taught me to sing you,with your throaty smudgeleaving the higher noted to melike sweet dark coffee and sweet creamwhere grit and the sublime collide.But in this life you are spirityou come to meas a birdso I build...
I though of this one. This is one of my favorites which means a lot to me. Shelley wrote beautifully with a heart which must have been full of passion. Enjoy. ~J
by Percy Bysshe Shelley
The fountains mingle with the river,
And the rivers with the ocean...
ever have walked on the planet! Just my humble opinion...
In youth, it was a way I had
To do my best to please,
And change, with every passing lad,
To suit his theories.
But now I know the things I know,
And do the things I do;
And if you do not like me so,
it's funny how hello is always accompanied with goodbye it's funny how good memories can start to make you cry it's funny how forever never seems to last it's funny how much you'd lose if you forgot about your past it's funny how “friends” can just...
“I want to see you.Know your voice.Recognize you when youfirst come 'round the corner.Sense your scent when I come into a room you've just left.Know the lift of your heel,the glide of your foot.Become familiar with the way you purse your lipsthen let them part, just the...
on my neck you draw
and slide down whit your finger
as salt water drops
through my skin tumble
you reflect at them
while with your hand
immersed in my hair
you hunt му quivering breaths
while longings crawl on me
and between the breasts traces remain
I seemed to have loved you numberless times, in numberless forms...
In life afer life, age after age, forvever.
My spellbound heart has made and remade the necklace of songs,
That you take as a gift, wear around your neck in your many forms,
In life after life, in age after age...
That I'm a tick in just one box,
Like my being is a door,
That a single key unlocks,
But let me tell you something,
I have the universe inside,
I hold an untamed ocean,
With a constant changing tide,
I'm home to endless mountains,
With tips that touch the sky,
Flocks of grand...
whispers all day long,
"I feel that this is right for me,
I know that this is wrong."
No teacher, preacher, parent, friend
Or wise man can decide
What's right for you - just listen to
The voice that speaks inside.
diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth
Then took the other, and just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted...
The well is dry at the moment. I just can't seem to get inspired to write any more. I really could use a creative outlet right now. Instead I will just read beautiful poetry and hope one day it will come back to me.