My Love
SHE has tender eyes that tell
All her prim, set lips suppress—
Daring thoughts that ever dwell
Prisoned in her bashfulness;
Hints of sudden tenderness
That within her breast rebel.
Till her bosom's fall and swell
Tell her meaning all too well,
To her heart's demure distress.
She has soft, smooth cheeks that flame
As she nestles close, so close,
With the new half-joy, half-shame,
That within her bosom glows,
And each fevered feature shows.
Her hot pulses beat acclaim
Of the hopes she dare not tame,
Fervid thoughts she cannot name—
Till I kiss her, and she knows.
She has clinging arms of white,
Little hands and fingers fine,
And she holds me tight, so tight;
While her eager arms entwine
Deep I drink her kisses' wine.
Hush! I feel through all her slight,
Trembling figure love's delight,
And she knows that all is right,
And her bosom beats with mine.
poem by Arthur Henry Adams
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Epitaph
The Earth Speaks:
HUSH! he drowses, drowses deep,
While my quiet arms I keep
Close about him in his sleep.
Once he glanced at me aghast,
Shuddered from my kiss, and passed—
But I hold him here at last.
He had frenzied thoughts of fame,
Piteous strivings for a name—
But I called him, and he came.
Called him with the mother-call
That shall on the weary fall,
Whispering “Home” to all, to all.
Fair white skin he looked upon;
Eyes in his with passion shone;
But my patient love has won.
There was one he deemed to wed;
But he faltered, came instead
To my narrow bridal bed.
Vehement his veins and wild—
Now a dreaming, glad-eyed child
To my kisses reconciled.
Tender heart and turbulent,
I and he together pent
In an æon of content!
Heaven holds for him no prize:
Stirless, nested here he lies
In his narrow Paradise.
When his trump God's Angel blows,
When he shudders, wakens, knows,
I shall hold him close, so close!
He will feel life's aching pain,
Turn his lips to me, and then
Sink to dreamless sleep again.
So for aye my love I keep
Here upon my breast asleep—
Hush!…he drowses…drowses…deep.
poem by Arthur Henry Adams
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The Lover
with his fingers so soft they touch my face lightly
and with his arms so strong he holds me tight
as he kisses my lips i feel the love he has inside
he shows it and says it when he can
the look in his eyes gives me quite a surprise
just befor he says i love you
you can see it on him that he loves me
hes so beautiful yet so quiet most of the time
hes soft hearted to me and very sweet
hes always there
with his beauty bringing hope to my world
an the thoughts of wanting to wake up
and the thoughts of wanting to live
every time i hear his words
the desire in them is clear
the craving for him unbearable most of the time
yet suttle and quiet like him
hes the only one who has my heart
and the power to break them so easily
i long to feel him close and hear his voice so sweet
his beauty could never be taken nore tainted to me
he is the lover my sweet man
the one who catches me an helps me land
he helps me stand up and holds my hand
he never lets me down nore lets me fall
for him i am thankfull hes my lover moste of all
poem by Sandy Vanity
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Love Elegy, to Laura
Too heedless friend, why thus augment the flame
That glows resistless in my beating breast?
Why with thy praises grace his fatal name,
Who robs thy Emma's hapless heart of rest?
Why needest thou dwell on Henry's graceful ease;
Why praise the timid worth his glance reveals;
Why speak enraptured of his power to please,
Whose power to wound my aching bosom feels?
Say not, "That gentle voice was formed for love,"
Nor in his eyes such sweet expression see;
Say not, that tenderness those glances prove,
Which never fix with tenderness on me.
Too well my Henry's charms I've numbered o'er,
And thus to end the fond survey is mine:
His heart will own some brighter fair one's power;
Think not, lost Emma, he can e'er be thine.
Yet why despair? Though Beauty's boasted rose
On others' cheeks in livelier colours shine,
The tender heart that in my bosom glows
The palm of fondness will to none resign.
Though brighter radiance beams in others' eyes,
By shape, by colour formed the soul to steal;
If Love's expression Henry's heart can prize,
Then, Henry's heart the power of mine must feel.
Yet vain the hope: "Fond maid, thy love suppress,"
Calm Reason cries; "go, learn to check the sigh:
But, if resolved to love in rash excess,
Seek out some lonely shade, despair, and die!"
Then, Laura, bid to Henry's praise farewel!
Forget his merit, and my hopeless flame;
On the dear theme no more ill-judging dwell,
And from thy memory blot his fatal name.
But if I urge this plaintive prayer in vain,
Bid execrations on that name attend;
And him, my Laura, view with cold disdain,
Who sees unmoved the sorrows of thy friend.
Say, such the scorn, the pride of Henry's breast,
It cannot Love's endearing softness share,
Say, vice degrades....Hold! slight my wild request,
Nor by such calumny my fury dare.
No....from my frantic wishes still appeal,
Declare that Henry is from error free;
Or the keen hate for him I bade thee feel,
My wayward heart will learn to feel for thee.
poem by Amelia Opie
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Fragoletta
O LOVE! what shall be said of thee?
The son of grief begot by joy?
Being sightless, wilt thou see?
Being sexless, wilt thou be
Maiden or boy?
I dreamed of strange lips yesterday
And cheeks wherein the ambiguous blood
Was like a rose’s—yea,
A rose’s when it lay
Within the bud.
What fields have bred thee, or what groves
Concealed thee, O mysterious flower,
O double rose of Love’s,
With leaves that lure the doves
From bud to bower?
I dare not kiss it, lest my lip
Press harder than an indrawn breath,
And all the sweet life slip
Forth, and the sweet leaves drip,
Bloodlike, in death.
O sole desire of my delight!
O sole delight of my desire!
Mine eyelids and eyesight
Feed on thee day and night
Like lips of fire.
Lean back thy throat of carven pearl,
Let thy mouth murmur like the dove’s;
Say, Venus hath no girl,
No front of female curl,
Among her Loves.
Thy sweet low bosom, thy close hair,
Thy strait soft flanks and slenderer feet,
Thy virginal strange air,
Are these not over fair
For Love to greet?
How should he greet thee? what new name,
Fit to move all men’s hearts, could move
Thee, deaf to love or shame,
Love’s sister, by the same
Mother as Love?
Ah sweet, the maiden’s mouth is cold,
Her breast-blossoms are simply red,
Her hair mere brown or gold,
Fold over simple fold
Binding her head.
Thy mouth is made of fire and wine,
Thy barren bosom takes my kiss
And turns my soul to thine
And turns thy lip to mine,
And mine it is.
Thou hast a serpent in thine hair,
In all the curls that close and cling;
And ah, thy breast-flower!
Ah love, thy mouth too fair
To kiss and sting!
Cleave to me, love me, kiss mine eyes,
Satiate thy lips with loving me;
Nay, for thou shalt not rise;
Lie still as Love that dies
For love of thee.
Mine arms are close about thine head,
My lips are fervent on thy face,
And where my kiss hath fed
Thy flower-like blood leaps red
To the kissed place.
O bitterness of things too sweet!
O broken singing of the dove!
Love’s wings are over fleet,
And like the panther’s feet
The feet of Love.
poem by Algernon Charles Swinburne
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Bianca
Her cheeks are hot, her cheeks are white;
The white girl hardly breathes to-night,
So faint the pulses come and go,
That waken to a smouldering glow
The morbid faintness of her white.
What drowsing heats of sense, desire
Longing and languorous, the fire
Of what white ashes, subtly mesh
The fascination of her flesh
Into a breathing web of fire?
Only her eyes, only her mouth,
Live, in the agony of drouth,
Athirst for that which may not be:
The desert of virginity
Aches in the hotness of her mouth.
I take her hands into my hands,
Silently, and she understands;
I set my lips upon her lips;
Shuddering to her finger-tips
She strains my hands within her hands.
I set my lips on hers; they close
Into a false and phantom rose;
Upon her thirsting lips I rain
A flood of kisses, and in vain;
Her lips inexorably close.
Through her closed lips that cling to mine,
Her hands that hold me and entwine,
Her body that abondoned lies,
Rigid with sterile ecstasies,
A shiver knits her flesh to mine.
Life sucks into a mist remote
Her fainting lips, her throbbing throat;
Her lips that open to my lips,
And, hot against her finger-tips,
The pulses leaping in her throat.
poem by Arthur Symons
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Acting
we may pretend
sometimes that i am this handsome guy
and you are this beautiful woman
we go to the beach
i am wearing my white speedo
and you are in your red bikini
a two-piece suit
we imagine we stroll the beach one fine day
holding hands
and then we sit on the white sand
your head in the embrace of my strong arms
i encircle your body and i look to the blue horizon
and dissolve my thoughts
you smile
& you close your eyes and feel the joy of loving
we imagine
there is only the two of us in this island of desire
we kiss and we hold each other tight
we feel so close
and we make love under the moon
i feel your heart beating inside my heart
and i say i love you and you say you love me too
we imagine a lot and
try this fantasy for once
sometimes i ask: why don't we make it true?
these feelings inside us may burst
soon i tell you
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Mother
Here I lean over you, small son, sleeping
Warm in my arms,
And I con to my heart all your dew-fresh charms,
As you lie close, close in my hungry hold . . .
Your hair like a miser's dream of gold,
And the white rose of your face far fairer,
Finer, and rarer
Than all the flowers in the young year's keeping;
Over lips half parted your low breath creeping
Is sweeter than violets in April grasses;
Though your eyes are fast shut I can see their blue,
Splendid and soft as starshine in heaven,
With all the joyance and wisdom given
From the many souls who have stanchly striven
Through the dead years to be strong and true.
Those fine little feet in my worn hands holden . . .
Where will they tread ?
Valleys of shadow or heights dawn-red?
And those silken fingers, O, wee, white son,
What valorous deeds shall by them be done
In the future that yet so distant is seeming
To my fond dreaming?
What words all so musical and golden
With starry truth and poesy olden
Shall those lips speak in the years on-coming?
O, child of mine, with waxen brow,
Surely your words of that dim to-morrow
Rapture and power and grace must borrow
From the poignant love and holy sorrow
Of the heart that shrines and cradles you now!
Some bitter day you will love another,
To her will bear
Love-gifts and woo her . . . then must I share
You and your tenderness! Now you are mine
From your feet to your hair so golden and fine,
And your crumpled finger-tips . . . mine completely,
Wholly and sweetly;
Mine with kisses deep to smother,
No one so near to you now as your mother!
Others may hear your words of beauty,
But your precious silence is mine alone;
Here in my arms I have enrolled you,
Away from the grasping world I fold you,
Flesh of my flesh and bone of my bone!
poem by Lucy Maud Montgomery
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Death Of Love
When my arm is cold and numbed
And then laid to its final rest
I wander what thought that it could have
If only to God and man it could confess.
When my eyes close for their very last time
What would be the last sight for them to see,
Would it be a sight, that gave a delight
To be cherished by my soul through me.
When my fingers loose their sense of touch
What touch would be missed most of all
Would it be the roses in the summertime
Or the many leaves, that I touched in the fall.
When my lips quiver their last time to close
What would be the last thought of it to miss
Would it be to say a prayer or maybe speak a thought
Or would it be, to give my one last kiss.
When it is my time to to leave this world
I know from this world I must leave alone
But I need to feel love, as I say goodbye to life
As never again will my soul or thoughts roam.
Before my arm goes it needs one last hug
Then it will go with a pain and a delight
And before my eyes close shut as surely as they will
They must see heaven in sight, that night.
Before my fingers loose their since of touch
A woman's hair or a rose I need to brush
They must feel the softness that they once had known
Then happily they will leave with just a hush.
My heart would beat one last time for you
And for my lips, what would be their final wish
Would it to say a prayer or a poem to recite,
Or it would be a last goodbye kiss.
When my body is gone and it is buried deep
And my soul is heading to heaven above
No one might worry about me leaving this world
But when I gone, there will be the death of love..
Randy L. McClave
poem by Randy McClave
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For my Love
For my love I'll try to write a poem
one filled with color, one that glows.
in my mind i can't deny,
so many thoughts about her that makes me fly.
with just one smile she makes me high,
with pure kindness and honesty that glows in her eyes.
with her gentle hands she holds mine tight
i have never felt such wonderful delight
the warmth of her skin the taste of her lips
forever I shall treasure these moments of bliss.
poem by Joma Jomamuls
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Midsummer
After the May time and after the June time
Rare with blossoms and perfume sweet,
Cometh the round world's royal noon time,
The red midsummer of blazing heat,
When the sun, like an eye that never closes,
Bends on the earth its fervid gaze,
And the winds are still, and the crimson roses
Droop and wither and die in its rays.
Unto my heart has come this season,
O, my lady, my worshiped one,
When, over the stars of Pride and Reason,
Sails Love's cloudless, noonday sun.
Like a great red ball in my bosom burning
With fires that nothing can quench or tame,
It glows till my heart itself seems turning
Into a liquid lake of flame.
The hopes half shy and the sighs all tender,
The dreams and fears of an earlier day,
Under the noontide's royal splendor,
Droop like roses, and wither away.
From the hills of Doubt no winds are blowing,
From the isles of Pain no breeze is sent, -
Only the sun in a white heat glowing
Over an ocean of great content.
Sink, O my soul, in this golden glory!
Die, O my heart, in thy rapture-swoon!
For the Autumn must come with its mournful story.
And Love's midsummer will fade too soon.
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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What I Feel For You
I love you fully both heart and soul
Romantic thoughts my love you stole
My heart beats fast from your soft kiss
When found far apart it's you that i miss
These emotions i feel shall never truley die
As long as you trust me i shall never tell a lie
I'll hold you tight in hate's cold grip
And pry to god your love never slips
your touch embeded down deep in my heart
together we'll be till death do we part
Just A Kiss
Hold me close
So close.
My bosom
Heaves breathlessly
Hard
Against the thuds of your heart.
The nape of my neck,
Immobile,
For your grip
Holds it
A cage of feathers,
Tight…
and locked lie
our gazes,
your breath
mirroring mine.
My lips swollen,
Bruised,
Your taste a bitter sweet
Lingering in my mouth
Way past the moonless night.
Your tongue igniting
The deepest of my desires
And in cold fire
Burns "you" and "me"
Into ashes of" us".
My nape,
Still immobile,
In that feather grip
Of your hands
And all you asked for was
Just
"A kiss."
poem by Anjali Kakati
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* * *
I walk alone and cry out under the stars.
As one in a desert I hunger for refreshment.
I have need of the coolness of some azure pool.
O, I would anoint my bosom with the clear water!
O, I would immerse myself in the emulous depths!
O, I would drink of ineffable dreams.
You, Beloved, are the silvery lake shimmering in the desert of my youth.
You only can allay the fever of my spirit!
On your lips I should drain the fountain of life.
On your white breast I shall breath the perfume of numberless lilies.
Therein I shall die a thousand deaths and arise reborn in the awful splendor of your love….
* * * * *
Lay your hands,—softer than dove’s wings,—in my hands so I may feel your young life flowing into mine thro’ your finger-tips.
Lay your eyes upon my eyes that I may grow tremulous beneath the flutter of your eyelids.
Lay your heart against my heart that I may hear your love summoning me to forgetfulness.
Lay your tresses about me that I may feel their warm sun streaming thro’ my veins.
Lay your mouth on my mouth until all dissolves in mist about me….
(Is it life? Is it death?)
* * * * *
You are as a million birds that sing unto my heart, O, Beloved.
Thro’ the long nights I hear the chanting of blithe voices.
What divine minstrelsy! what ravishment….
Is this multitudinous melody the rapture of your kiss?
Come to me, press upon my brow the coolness of your young lips that I may hear the thunder of your love in the night….
* * * * *
When will it end, the long vigil….
What dawn will bring you forever unto me, O, my Beloved?
Life is but shadow.
Only you, my Beloved, are more real than shadow.
Beneath your caresses I am as one awakened unto life.
Your finger-tips bear presage of divinity. Your heart-beats are a threnody sublime.
O, Beloved, you are as a white nenuphar lifting its snowy breast on a stream. In your bosom are all the treasures of Elysium. The scent of your skin is like jasmine and honeysuckle.
Why is such loveliness withheld from me, O, Beloved?
When can I look upon you and say: “Beloved! all this beauty is mine forever.”
When will it end, the long vigil….
* * * * *
O, miracle of love!
You whom I adore unto delirium,
Your arms are white lilies upon my bosom.
Stars encircle me when your lips lean down to mine. There is the sound of many waters falling. There is the murmur of a million nightingales,—and the flash of brilliant lightning.
Caress celestial!
Moon-path of my dreams!
O, miracle of Love—my divinity and my crucifixion….
* * * * *
When the young moon silvers the sky, the earth is ours,
We shall go into the forest and wander in the shadow of the pines.
I shall cover you with leaves, and we shall lie on the soft moss entwined like sisters.
And all the while I will know that the fragrance of your skin is sweeter to me than the perfumes of a million roses….
* * * * *
Let me enfold you in my hair.
Let me wind you as in a golden skein.
Give me the curve of your throat, milky white and rose, that I may place about it the glossy fillets of my hair.
Don it as a shining mantilla….
Let my hair shower about you until you are radiant with perfume;
Let it ripple over you like the wind on summer wheat.
Then give me your lips that we may stand united beneath the downpour of its sunlight.
Let us be intermingled as two trees that have bent one single root….
* * * * *
It rains, Beloved….
The dripping of the rain is like the cool kisses of your mouth….
I faint beneath the rapture of your lips.
Be no longer tender.
Cover me with frenzied kisses,—even as I would drench my body in the cruel torrents of the rain.
Envelop me from throat to ankle in delirium intolerable….
* * * * *
To love you like the midnight storm!
To take you swooning unto death as the wind sweeps the waves in tempest!
To transport you unto delirium!
To hear the wild beating of your veins; to feel flame shuddering your blood and to agonize you with my ardor.
To crush you as a flower upon my breast,
To bear you away to some secret valley where I would love you unto insensibility….
* * * * *
If I think of you, I quiver from head to foot.
If I think of you tears flood my eyes.
If I pass you my heart quickens to suffocation and the blood seems to leave my body.
If I look into your eyes a sudden fire burns in my veins.
If I touch you I am as one possessed with madness; my arms tremble and my limbs totter beneath me.
To love you is to suffer the pangs of an intolerable agony.
* * * * *
I see you coming toward me….
Silently you take me in your arms.
Our lips meet and our eyes close.
I feel the shuddering of your breast and the beating of your throat against mine.
We are enveloped in darkness.
We know nothing but the thunder of our veins….
We are swept out into a sea of infinite oblivion.
poem by Blanche Shoemaker Wagstaff from The Book of Love (1917)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Satana
SHE draws all men to serve her, and her lure
Is her pulsating human loveliness—
The beauty of her bosom's rippling lines,
The passion pleading in her eyes, the pure
Soft contour of her cheek, her dainty dress,
With all the rich aroma of her warm
Glad womanhood perfumed, her supple form
Curving and swaying like a living flower,
Aflush with life and youth. These are the signs
By which she queens the hearts of men, the power
By which she makes her sovereignty secure!
But though her red lips mock me of their wine,
And that low laugh of hers fills me with fire,
As, spent with loving, in her scorn I lie;
Yet some day she will come to me and twine
Her slender arms about me; and desire
Will plead in those eyes that were all disdain,
And break her bosom with a sob of pain,
And her hot lips will lavish all their store
Of hungry kisses on me—then shall I
Remember all her queenly coldness, or
With kisses make her breathing beauty mine?
poem by Arthur Henry Adams
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I Love You
I love your lips when they're wet with wine
And red with a wild desire;
I love your eyes when the lovelight lies
Lit with a passionate fire.
I love your arms when the warm white flesh
Touches mine in a fond embrace;
I love your hair when the strands enmesh
Your kisses against my face.
Not for me the cold calm kiss
Of a virgin's bloodless love;
Not for me the saint's white bliss,
Nor the heart of a spotless dove.
But give me the love that so freely gives
And laughs at the whole world's blame,
With your body so young and warm in my arms,
It sets my poor heart aflame.
So kiss me sweet with your warm wet mouth,
Still fragrant with ruby wine,
And say with a fervor born of the South
That your body and soul are mine.
Clasp me close in your warm young arms,
While the pale stars shine above,
And we'll live our whole young lives away
In the joys of a living love.
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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Just Kiss Me Again
Please kiss me again,
Your lips are soft,
Like angel wings,
But when you leave me I die,
Pull me close to you again,
And kiss me softly,
With your passionate lips,
That left me breathless again,
My cheeks get hot,
And my heart seems to flutter,
When your lips meet mine,
I just seem to go under,
Just kiss me again,
If you love me you would,
Just kiss me and I will be fine,
I will never die, if you just kiss me again,
Embrace me,
I don't need you inside me,
Just to know you love me,
All I need to know that is when you kiss me,
Just kiss me pleas,
I love you,
Just kiss me,
I will never hurt,
I just need your lips on mine once again! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! !
The Proposal
Now, pledge to me your love so sweet
And I will do the same with mine
My mind could never soon forget
Just what my heart came to enshrine
Now, cast a glance upon my face
Just so your eyes would meet with mine
Your soul came wafting in like breeze
Like spirits from a cask of wine
Now, leave your touch upon my cheeks
As tender as a kiss divine
Or hug me with a warmth that peaks
At times that our arms entwine
Now, rest your hand on top of mine
Your fingers curled as though a vine
Just like your life you chose to spend
Along with mine as hearts could blend.
.
poem by Reyvrex Questor Reyes
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Then and Now -A Stone Breaker
When first I saw thee breaking stones
My heart was filled with praise
And delight on a rose like face.
What heaving bosom and how did it nurse
The hopes of life and desires of youth
And how joyfully didst thou talk
Of life everlasting.
But now I am pained to see thee;
Is it thou same young lady?
So changed in so short a time!
These sunken eyes, these hollow looks
Are these the same that pierced my heart?
O stony stare, where is life?
Whither is hope fled?
These withered cheeks, these pale lips
No more betray the colour of a rose;
And this bosom which once did nurse
The hopes of life; the joys of youth:
To this bosom now clings a child,
A life! Oh no no no
It's misery nursing death.
Love Oh Love
love oh love
you stand there alone
and then i call you
and you smile
and you come near me
and hold my arms
and tiptoe
a little higher to kiss
my lips
what shall i do?
they are all watching
shall i set you aside
because of shame?
shall i hug you tight
and kiss your lips
and close my eyes
and bend over you
and tell the world
that you are love
and i do not mind
what they say
take me take me far away
it is none of their business anyway
take me and satiate me
i am hungry and thirsty
crush me, i am yours.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Let The Time Go By
Take me in your arms again
and hold me close to you.
Take me in your arms again
and whisper 'I love you.'
Let me look into your eyes
to see how much you care.
There is no place I'd rather be,
no place anywhere.
'Cause you make me feel your eyes can see
what you always do to me.
You make me shiver, make me burn
and always dear you make me yearn
to just stay quiet in your arms
and let the time go by.
Take me in your arms again.
Never let us part.
Take me in your arms again
and feel my beating heart.
Let me close my eyes a while
and kiss you tenderly.
I'm eager for your lips on mine
and I will always be.
'Cause you make me feel that you can see
what you always do to me.
You make me shiver, make me burn
and always dear you make me yearn
to just stay quiet in your arms
and let the time go by.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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