Ghosts.
Grew
That soft scented flower.
Between the rocks of my life.
Choking
In that desert of no hope.
Dying of thirst.
A balloon
Must float away or burst.
Blue
The lips of death.
Between a beating heart
And a lovers last breath.
Cascading
From the clouds
Masquerading
In the crowds.
That sunstruck smile.
From the wand of a wizard
Skating
On moonbeams
Of a lake
That doesn't exist.
Like the first time we kissed.
Flew
Like a bird of silver wing.
In silent sky.
Froze in its flight.
To pose
Memory in white.
As brushstrokes of black
Paint
The night.
Then fire
From the dragons mouth.
And smoke.
Forcing migrant dreams
To fly south.
And evoke
A far off spirit
That rang
Of innocence.
With sweet eyes,
Like a bell
Of Sunday sacrament.
Now
Lost in a haze
Of unsaid goodbyes.
Blown out to sea
On the hiss of a wind.
That love never pinned
On its sleeve.
Left alone.
Our bright star,
And forgotten cantata
Will kiss those ghosts
We all grieve.
poem by Kevin East
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Kiss Me Everything! ! !
Kiss me heart and said i'love you.
Kiss me from warm your eyes rays and said all better.
Kiss me from your sweet lips i'was everything.
Kiss me from your desire was embrace by you.i'was passing yearning fogs.
Kiss me with your soft face the angel gave peace on my heart.
Kiss me the rainbow gave the colour to illustrate my dreams.
Kiss me my blue clouds will lie down all tired i'to you.
Kiss me the green leaves penetrating freshness bellows of the heart and mind.
Kiss me the wind-the blowing wind continued the long breath in the life.
Kiss me the wave of the birds wings in the branch, stamped the love and the spirit.
Kiss me the flower and was kissed by me again went through the sun and the rain.
Kiss me the river gave my warm regards to the ocean.
Kiss me the nature said to my heart sweetheart.
I kissed him through all
the life breath in the world.
That Sunday
Sunlight kissed her hair
As she stood to shimmer in white.
Like an angel
Waiting for the night
That she could share
With a crescent moon.
To watch the stars swoon
To a fragrant morning light.
And I burned
In the embers of her smile
And yearned
As she disappeared in style
On a train to nowhere
That Sunday.
Moonbeams bathed her eyes of fire
When we kissed
I swear I heard a choir
Fill my soul
With lullabyes of rock and roll.
As we lay in our bed
Of just roses and dreams
Where our hearts were first wed
By sweet babbling streams.
When i awoke
She left just her perfume
And a kiss
That was lost
In swirled violet plume.
That Sunday.
Promise and embrace
Never warn of goodbyes
And when the night hides my face
My memory cries.
That physical ache
That lonliness brings
Stands in the wake
Of where lost hope clings.
As my heart starts to break
As it waits in the wings.
To enjoy our last fun day
That Sunday.
poem by Kevin East
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Cease smilng, Dear! a little while be sad
Cease smiling, Dear! a little while be sad,
Here in the silence, under the wan moon;
Sweet are thine eyes, but how can I be glad,
Knowing they change so soon?
For Love's sake, Dear, be silent! Cover me
In the deep darkness of thy falling hair:
Fear is upon me and the memory
Of what is all men's share.
O could this moment be perpetuate!
Must we grow old, and leaden-eyed and gray,
And taste no more the wild and passionate
Love sorrows of to-day?
Grown old, and faded, Sweet! and past desire,
Let memory die, lest there be too much ruth,
Remembering the old, extinguished fire
Of our divine, lost youth.
O red pomegranate of thy perfect mouth!
My lips' life-fruitage, might I taste and die
Here in thy garden, where the scented south
Wind chastens agony;
Reap death from thy live lips in one long kiss,
And look my last into thine eyes and rest:
What sweets had life to me sweeter than this
Swift dying on thy breast?
Or, if that may not be, for Love's sake, Dear!
Keep silence still, and dream that we shall lie,
Red mouth to mouth, entwined, and always hear
The south wind's melody,
Here in thy garden, through the sighing boughs,
Beyond the reach of time and chance and change,
And bitter life and death, and broken vows,
That sadden and estrange.
poem by Ernest Christopher Dowson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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You Kiss My Heart
You kiss my heart
With words from afar.
And touch my hand,
You are
My maiden
You stand
Forever flowing in white.
With glowing dreams
In darkest night.
And warm me
With shivers of love.
That tingle
Mingle
In my soul.
Whenever beauty in verse
Is read from heaven's scroll.
And stars cry tears
Of the universe,
Then glisten with sunlight they had stole.
From a million years ago.
So,
I want to wrap you
In blue moonbeams.
And bathe our hopes
In silver streams.
As you forever dance
Across my mind.
Leaving flowers of romance
Scattered behind.
As the sky now holds aloft
Pastel colours we painted, soft.
On canvas blue.
You kiss my heart
With words for me
You do.
They bloom
And always excite
Like meadow dressed in floral white.
As soft trail of tears
Saturate our emotion.
In special dawn
We will kiss
With sweet devotion.
In such symphony of bliss.
I leave promise of candlelight.
Left to burn where our romance slept.
Forever more
On our sunset shore.
Yes, my heart leapt
When in dream we kissed.
And for every moment I exist
It will beat in time
With every rhyme
That is ours.
And love will blaze
With violet haze
Among clouds of ivory towers.
Until we caress
In Summer rain.
Then you will wake
My heart again.
poem by Kevin East
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Song VII: Dawn Talks to Day
Dawn talks to Day
Over dew-gleaming flowers,
Night flies away
Till the resting of hours:
Fresh are thy feet
And with dreams thine eyes glistening,
Thy still lips are sweet
Though the world is a-listening.
O Love, set a word in my mouth for our meeting,
Cast thine arms round about me to stay my heart's beating!
O fresh day, O fair day, O long day made ours!
Morn shall meet noon
While the flower-stems yet move,
Though the wind dieth soon
And the clouds fade above.
Loved lips are thine
As I tremble and hearken;
Bright thine eyes shine,
Though the leaves thy brow darken.
O Love, kiss me into silence, lest no word avail me,
Stay my head with thy bosom lest breath and life fail me!
O sweet day, O rich day, made long for our love!
Late day shall greet eve,
And the full blossoms shake,
For the wind will not leave
The tall trees while they wake.
Eyes soft with bliss,
Come nigher and nigher!
Sweet mouth I kiss,
Tell me all thy desire!
Let us speak, love, together some words of our story,
That our lips as they part may remember the glory!
O soft day, O calm day, made clear for our sake!
Eve shall kiss night,
And the leaves stir like rain
As the wind stealeth light
O'er the grass of the plain.
Unseen are thine eyes
Mid the dreamy night's sleeping,
And on my mouth there lies
The dear rain of thy weeping.
Hold silence, love, speak not of the sweet day departed,
Cling close to me, love, lest I waken sad-hearted!
O kind day, O dear day, short day, come again!
poem by William Morris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Snowpowder
Snowpowder sprinkled in my hair
I reach for her, but she’s not there.
Her soft golden hair, no longer by my side,
her emerald eyes, that for me were blind.
Deep pools of green, I can’t deny.
Her skis are gone, the track is fresh,
the first ripples of pain, stir beneath my breast.
From this moment forth, I’ll know no rest.
A single tear lies upon my cheek
A silver pear; a glistening streak
My heart is broken, I cannot speak.
I can see her face within the mist
still see her smile
that from enjoyment grew
still see the pleasure
within her eyes, that I once knew.
I can see the movement of her lips
those tender lips when she spoke to me
the feel of them that set me free.
I hear her laughter on the wind
a honey sweet voice like morning dew.
So clear and still hanging on the breeze
it stirs my heart, sucks forth my breath.
Snowpowder sprinkled in my hair
Desperation, Grief, Despair.
A silent cry an inward tear
a choked-up so bursting from within
a heart-reaching moan
that split the air.
My hand she took in a last embrace
with a parting kiss she sealed my fate
my body rocks, now convulsively shakes.
The sun is bright now, sky cream white blue
but my heart is cold still, dead through you.
Our love was strong once wild and free.
Like a flower growing in scorching desert sands
the fragrance of it, captivated me.
The beauty withers
Its time is past.
The seeds are sown
Some may last.
Alone in the snow
This life I part.
poem by Terence George Craddock
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Meet Me
BRIGHT MORNING
Bright morning, blue, and the clouds gossiping with the treetops and the fallen ladders of the impossible horizons. I sustain six lives simultaneously in a wounded apartment that's been bleeding for years, continents of plaster out of the walls, the cartography of aging, rewriting the maps as the world drifts like a cinder across the seas of its weeping eye. The trees sway in the wind like smoke, and I sit at my desk, waiting for my hair to dry, smoking, drinking black coffee, happy to be enthroned in my solitude as my dreams pale like stars in the extremity of the light. Lost. I couldn't tell you who I was if you showed me, and the mirrors have grown bags under their eyes like the heavy pollen of time in bee-satchels, silver wombs that are still trying to get my birth right. I've become an apostate of reflections, erasing my face with a sleeve; or watching it shrink like a warm breath on a cold windowpane. Maybe the hive of a mind somewhere is turning me into honey. And I remember lovers I've had, and lovers I will never meet, and all the changes of a comet as it approaches each one to glow luminously in the darkness of the bottomless watershed that is always within me, the familiar one-eyed abyss. And there's a wing of my heart that opens and passes over them like a generous eclipse to bless them all for the time I spent in their mansions of blood and tears, for the candles that ached like joy in the mystery and led me to the eras where they wanted me to stay for the night. They left a desert by the bed and I drank it like an hourglass, true to a calling that exceeded us both. Like the wind, I left a note, extolling their beauty to the webs of the morning, hanging on the bell-ropes of the flowing diamonds that wander the labyrinths of the wet peach hair and Appalachian earlobes I dampened with my tongue. A language of one, I drank from their intimate stars and played the skeletons of their burning harps in a controlled fury of power and hunger as the earth convulsed with islands of flesh, bolts of black lightning that illuminated oblivion in a flash of annihilant ecstasy. And habitable planets were born of the encounter, two children, old enough now in their passage of nights and days to know that it's life that flows, not the river, that their wings are bridges of light and blood and breath that once offered themselves like the crutches of winter trees to the sky in a paradox of love that wanted to lay down roots and fly. What a dream it all is; what a vast and amazing hallucination of darkness within darkness, shadow writing on shadow, a confusion of gates trying to enter one another with both eyes closed, fire obsessively trying to coax the hydrant of the heart to open up before the house burns to the sky and the ground, uncertain whether it's a root or a flower, a bone or a star, a desert of light, or the whisper of a billion gestural galaxies.
PATRICK WHITE
poem by Patrick White
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Brand New
What path she walks?
Near or far?
How sweet she talks to yonder star.
Yet her wishes cannot be heard
Disappearing like a solitary bird
Into a sky of ethereal blue.
As I patiently wait
For my love
Brand new.
Her scent as fresh as pine
She blooms as spring time flower.
Her kiss still on the vine
I will drink at twilight hour.
Our bodies ache in tune.
Her eyes of blue lagoon
Kiss me in the night.
Her sighs float out of sight
To rest in morning dew.
That zest,
Our love
Brand new.
The thrill is beyond my quill
To express.
The vanquishing of lonliness.
That soft vibration of her caress.
She woos in moonlight hue.
She'll sparkle in her party dress.
Oh, lose me in love
Brand new.
Cruise me on ocean blue.
Her hand at last to hold
We'll sail a sunset gold.
I see her in vermillion skies
She touched me in dreams
of long goodbyes.
I heard her whisper, soft and true
'With wings of silver I fly to you'
With rings of gold
For our love
Brand new.
poem by Kevin East
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Year of the Rose
From the depths of the green garden-closes
Where the summer in darkness dozes
Till autumn pluck from his hand
An hour-glass that holds not a sand;
From the maze that a flower-belt encloses
To the stones and sea-grass on the strand
How red was the reign of the roses
Over the rose-crowned land!
The year of the rose is brief;
From the first blade blown to the sheaf,
From the thin green leaf to the gold,
It has time to be sweet and grow old,
To triumph and leave not a leaf
For witness in winter's sight
How lovers once in the light
Would mix their breath with its breath,
And its spirit was quenched not of night,
As love is subdued not of death.
In the red-rose land not a mile
Of the meadows from stile to stile,
Of the valleys from stream to stream,
But the air was a long sweet dream
And the earth was a sweet wide smile
Red-mouthed of a goddess, returned
From the sea which had borne her and burned,
That with one swift smile of her mouth
Looked full on the north as it yearned,
And the north was more than the south.
For the north, when winter was long,
In his heart had made him a song,
And clothed it with wings of desire,
And shod it with shoon as of fire,
To carry the tale of his wrong
To the south-west wind by the sea,
That none might bear it but he
To the ear of the goddess unknown
Who waits till her time shall be
To take the world for a throne.
In the earth beneath, and above
In the heaven where her name is love,
She warms with light from her eyes
The seasons of life as they rise,
And her eyes are as eyes of a dove,
But the wings that lift her and bear
As an eagle's, and all her hair
As fire by the wind's breath curled,
And her passage is song through the air,
And her presence is spring through the world.
So turned she northward and came,
And the white-thorn land was aflame
With the fires that were shed from her feet,
That the north, by her love made sweet,
Should be called by a rose-red name;
And a murmur was heard as of doves,
And a music beginning of loves
In the light that the roses made,
Such light as the music loves,
The music of man with maid.
But the days drop one upon one,
And a chill soft wind is begun
In the heart of the rose-red maze
That weeps for the roseleaf days
And the reign of the rose undone
That ruled so long in the light,
And by spirit, and not by sight,
Through the darkness thrilled with its breath,
Still ruled in the viewless night,
As love might rule over death.
The time of lovers is brief;
From the fair first joy to the grief
That tells when love is grown old,
From the warm wild kiss to the cold,
From the red to the white-rose leaf,
They have but a season to seem
As rose-leaves lost on a stream
That part not and pass not apart
As a spirit from dream to dream,
As a sorrow from heart to heart.
From the bloom and the gloom that encloses
The death-bed of Love where he dozes
Till a relic be left not of sand
To the hour-glass that breaks in his hand;
From the change in the grey garden-closes
To the last stray grass of the strand,
A rain and ruin of roses
Over the red-rose land.
poem by Algernon Charles Swinburne
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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In The Valley
Said the yellow-haired Spirit of Spring
To the white-footed Spirit of Snow,
“On the wings of the tempest take wing,
And leave me the valleys, and go.”
And, straightway, the streams were unchained,
And the frost-fettered torrents broke free,
And the strength of the winter-wind waned
In the dawn of a light on the sea.
Then a morning-breeze followed and fell,
And the woods were alive and astir
With the pulse of a song in the dell,
And a whisper of day in the fir.
Swift rings of sweet water were rolled
Down the ways where the lily-leaves grew,
And the green, and the white, and the gold,
Were wedded with purple and blue.
But the lips of the flower of the rose
Said, “where is the ending hereof?
Is it sweet with you, life, at the close?
Is it sad to be emptied of love?”
And the voice of the flower of the peach
Was tender and touching in tone,
“When each has been grafted on each,
It is sorrow to live on alone.”
Then the leaves of the flower of the vine
Said, “what will there be in the day
When the reapers are red with my wine,
And the forests are yellow and grey?”
And the tremulous flower of the quince
Made answer, “three seasons ago
My sisters were star-like, but since,
Their graves have been made in the snow.”
Then the whispering flower of the fern
Said, “who will be sad at the death,
When Summer blows over the burn,
With the fierceness of fire in her breath?”
And the mouth of the flower of the sedge
Was opened to murmur and sigh,
“Sweet wind-breaths that pause at the edge
Of the nightfall, and falter, and die.”
poem by Henry Kendall
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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New
What path she walks
Near or far?
How sweet she talks to yonder star.
Yet her wishes cannot be heard.
Disappearing like a solitary bird
Into a sky
Of ethereal blue.
As patiently, I wait
For her love
Brand new.
Her scent as fresh as pine.
She blooms as springtime flower.
Her kiss still on the vine.
That I will drink
At twilight hour.
Our bodies ache in tune.
Her eyes of blue lagoon.
Kiss me in the night.
Her sighs float out of sight.
To rest in morning dew.
That zest
Our love
Brand new.
The thrill
Is beyond my quill.
To express
The vanquishing of lonliness.
That soft vibration of her caress.
She woos in moonlight hue.
She'll sparkle in her party dress.
Oh, lose me in love brand new.
Cruise me on ocean blue.
Her hand at last to hold.
We'll sail a sunset gold.
I see her in vermillion skies.
She touched me in dreams
Of long goodbyes.
I heard her whisper soft and true.
'With wings of silver, I fly to you'
With rings of gold
For our love.
Brand new.
poem by Kevin East
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Bright Morning
Bright morning, blue, and the clouds gossiping with the treetops and the fallen ladders of the impossible horizons. I sustain six lives simultaneously in a wounded apartment that's been bleeding for years, continents of plaster out of the walls, the cartography of aging, rewriting the maps as the world drifts like a cinder across the seas of its weeping eye. The trees sway in the wind like smoke, and I sit at my desk, waiting for my hair to dry, smoking, drinking black coffee, happy to be enthroned in my solitude as my dreams pale like stars in the extremity of the light. Lost. I couldn't tell you who I was if you showed me, and the mirrors have grown bags under their eyes like the heavy pollen of time in bee-satchels, silver wombs that are still trying to get my birth right. I've become an apostate of reflections, erasing my face with a sleeve; or watching it shrink like a warm breath on a cold windowpane. Maybe the hive of a mind somewhere is turning me into honey. And I remember lovers I've had, and lovers I will never meet, and all the changes of a comet as it approaches each one to glow luminously in the darkness of the bottomless watershed that is always within me, the familiar one-eyed abyss. And there's a wing of my heart that opens and passes over them like a generous eclipse to bless them all for the time I spent in their mansions of blood and tears, for the candles that ached like joy in the mystery and led me to the eras where they wanted me to stay for the night. They left a desert by the bed and I drank it like an hourglass, true to a calling that exceeded us both. Like the wind, I left a note, extolling their beauty to the webs of the morning, hanging on the bell-ropes of the flowing diamonds that wander the labyrinths of the wet peach hair and Appalachian earlobes I dampened with my tongue. A language of one, I drank from their intimate stars and played the skeletons of their burning harps in a controlled fury of power and hunger as the earth convulsed with islands of flesh, bolts of black lightning that illuminated oblivion in a flash of annihilant ecstasy. And habitable planets were born of the encounter, two children, old enough now in their passage of nights and days to know that it's life that flows, not the river, that their wings are bridges of light and blood and breath that once offered themselves like the crutches of winter trees to the sky in a paradox of love that wanted to lay down roots and fly. What a dream it all is; what a vast and amazing hallucination of darkness within darkness, shadow writing on shadow, a confusion of gates trying to enter one another with both eyes closed, fire obsessively trying to coax the hydrant of the heart to open up before the house burns to the sky and the ground, uncertain whether it's a root or a flower, a bone or a star, a desert of light, or the whisper of a billion gestural galaxies.
poem by Patrick White
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Two Seasons
I
The stars were wild that summer evening
As on the low lake shore stood you and I
And every time I caught your flashing eye
Or heard your voice discourse on anything
It seemed a star went burning down the sky.
I looked into your heart that dying summer
And found your silent woman's heart grown wild
Whereupon you turned to me and smiled
Saying you felt afraid but that you were
Weary of being mute and undefiled
II
I spoke to you that last winter morning
Watching the wind smoke snow across the ice
Told of how the beauty of your spirit, flesh,
And smile had made day break at night and spring
Burst beauty in the wasting winter's place.
You did not answer when I spoke, but stood
As if that wistful part of you, your sorrow,
Were blown about in fitful winds below;
Your eyes replied your worn heart wished it could
Again be white and silent as the snow.
poem by Galway Kinnell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Artist
Touching his canvas like a kiss
Soft and lingering
Or tantalizingly brief Is his brush
A baton conducting unfinished silent symphony.
As nomadic wind
Always refused to sit and pose.
Passion
Mixed in the palette
To be released
Like a caged song bird
To carol so sweetly again.
From that dark room of his mind
He grew a flower
That will never die.
Though the stolen scent
Will remain with his lost love
Along with moonlit rapture
In her eye.
As she haunts his masterpiece
In her flowing gown
Cascading of white
Under that chandelier
That he called starry night.
When his sanity finally faded
And desperation invaded
That troubled soul.
Black cloud marauded
As thunder applauded
Mocking the wonder of swirling pain.
As heaven's tears
Did masquerade as rain.
poem by Kevin East
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Only Love
I'll only love you
While the world turns
while the sun burns.
When the sea hits the rocks
While you look cute in socks.
When you laugh on the phone,
Healing me with dulcet tone.
While poems are read
And you sing to me in bed
While I can hear you on the wind
See you painted in the sky
While your words are always pinned
Up in my kitchen to get me by.
I'll only love you
While children smile in scented summers
And in my heart a thousand drummers
Strike when you enter the room.
Love wraps around me lifting the gloom
Only you could weave that on your loom.
And your smile makes my heart rumba
In dreams we meet
To kiss
In slumber.
I'll only love you
While trees dance with the breeze
While we hang daisy chains on our dreams
To music from babbling streams
Under bluest blue moonbeams.
And when I can hear the rain
Tap dance through my pain
As your hair will brush my cheek.
And our lips in darkness seek
To heal with softest touch
Only love
Could give so much.
poem by Kevin East
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Aching In My Heart
The aching in my heart
Like sweetest kiss of scent
From love's bouquet.
As I fly into Summer sky
Of blue.
Wearing white robes of cloud,
And the touch of you.
That gift from the sun,
The smile in your soul
Warms me.
With sweet embrace, you await.
Wearing the stars
As only your eyes can do.
The aching in my heart
That buzzes like the promise of Spring
Across field of dancing flower.
Conducted by the breeze.
Swaying in the twilight.
And waiting for the moon's late hour.
To light their canvas in blue.
What unknown chord
Love strikes within me.
You dance through every symphony unwritten.
Your beauty sings.
And you find me smitten.
Among forgotten rainbows,
Like silver raindrops
Crying on a window pane
I call in silence.
You thrill me and fill me
With the magic of a sunrise.
And the death of a sunset.
Waves
Only sweet goodbyes,
'Til tomorrows dawn whispers
We are both reborn.
I wait in eternity.
For your forever kiss.
Every night I hold you
In a dream
What bliss!
Where only you and I
Can play a part.
Will always exist
Within my aching heart.
poem by Kevin East
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Heavenly Theatre
Sprinkles
Of twinkles
Of stardust.
Thrown across
An Autumn sky.
As a lone cloud
Hangs on high.
Like a balloon
After a party.
Watching the parade go by.
While
The chilled fingers
Of november
Play a melody.
Iced
With the sugar
Of a lost spring.
Inviting colours
To sing.
A bird,
Black
On canvas of sky
Flaunts freedom.
As childlike dreams
Of white
Softly pass by.
Humming the tune
Of young hearts.
Before
The light show starts
From Mr moon.
Staging
A raging
Blue kissed
Lagoon.
In that heavenly
Theatre.
Of muted viola
And scented corolla.
That float across
An empty stage.
Sweet as greengage
In summer.
My heart
Beating like a drummer
At the door.
Bleeding,
Pleading
A celestial encore.
poem by Kevin East
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Premonition
'Twas a year ago and the moon was bright
(Oh, I remember so well, so well);
I walked with my love in a sea of light,
And the voice of my sweet was a silver bell.
And sudden the moon grew strangely dull,
And sudden my love had taken wing;
I looked on the face of a grinning skull,
I strained to my heart a ghastly thing.
'Twas but fantasy, for my love lay still
In my arms, with her tender eyes aglow,
And she wondered why my lips were chill,
Why I was silent and kissed her so.
A year has gone and the moon is bright,
A gibbous moon, like a ghost of woe;
I sit by a new-made grave to-night,
And my heart is broken -- it's strange, you know.
poem by Robert William Service
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Thief
Came without a mask without a hood
Dressed fair and flew as only white dove could.
Spoke soft and lit by candle flame
Dreams held aloft, sweet lips wild horses tame
Then stole my heart as stars raged from above
Slow death from arrow, the thief Cupid called love.
So tempest left me bleeding in the rain
As footsteps fade, to die alone again
Mugged but only from the soul
The thief called love a masquerading doll
Princess in dreams this frog did kiss
Then dropped my heart into black abyss
At precipice i felt that fatal shove
What pain is this, a thief i once called love.
poem by Kevin East
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Aching In My Heart
The aching in my heart
Like sweetest kiss of scent
From love's bouquet.
As I fly into summer sky of blue
Wearing robes of cloud
And the touch of you.
That gift from the sun
The smile in your soul
Warms me.
With sweet embrace, you await,
Wearing the stars
As only your eyes can do.
The aching in my heart is you.
Oh, the aching in my heart
That buzzes like the promise of Spring
Across field of dancing flower.
Conducted by the breeze
Swaying in the twilight
And waiting for the moon's late hour
To light their canvas in blue.
What unknown chord
Love strikes within me.
Your beauty sings
And you leave me smitten
Among forgotten rainbows.
Like silver raindrops
Crying on a window pane
I call in silence
Through just a heartbeat of pain.
You thrill me and fill me
With the magic of a sunrise.
And the death of a sunset
Waves only sweet goodbyes,
Until tomorrow's dawn whispers
We are both reborn.
I wait in eternity
For your forever kiss.
Every night I hold you
In a dream.
That bliss,
Where only you and I
Can play a part
Will always exist
Within the aching of my heart.
poem by Kevin East
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!