Poetry and love (love poetry)

 

Also inside the poet there is a deep silence that is not silence of words, but which the nature hides, characteristic of the unconscious, that inner ocean where the strangest mysteries live.

But it is the poetic activity the one that can walk the abyss and to rescue the surprising things, if one is encouraged to this adventure that overcomes to the same will.

In the writing of love poems (sad or not), it could not happen different.  This romantic and short text doesn't have to be exclusively a mixture of beautiful words with pompous sentences already reiterated millions of times by others.

These repetitions insult to the same love!

Better even, during the writing of the romantic poetry, extraordinary feelings and yearnings  will arise and that sounding of inscrutable things of ourselves, it could become a vital experience that could make appear in the poem something more than an anecdote and mere simplicity to exalt us in a creative act, a new trace.

Because to love will always mean something more than a search between women and males.

To love is a beautiful idea, a powerful energy that gives fullness of life and it is worthy of spilling out in other and so to enlarge -together them- the life.


 

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poemas de amor
(spanish love poemS)

 

   

love poems

 

Who did invent
the beautiful idea:
the love / to love /
      my love?



33 Things Every Girl
Should Know


Tonya Bolden

   

Tomorrow 


Tomorrow
weŽll look the April autumns
    from the fortress of my entire body
    and in the lukewarmness of your eyes.

Oh... woman tied in silences.

 
In other glances
in other encounters
     youŽll listen our misty echo,
     echo of the echo shrouded in fruit
     you and your inattentive petals.

Oh... woman passionate of sun,

gold and gemery your neck.


in another life
other times
     I will adore you in me and in you
     -light and shade -
     naked woman of bones,
     soft as the soft mud
     let me to nest in your breast the scream
     of the tree growing.
 
Oh... my woman chiseled in wind.

 


George Gershwin
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Return of hands

Come, my love.
The moon winks me
her enormous eye
and accomplice,
she warns me that you love me.

and Come,
although each tile of the patio
tie us to the past
and our lights
always illuminate
the same thing
of the same thing,
then, Come.

Or youŽve not seen that to each step
our members are reminded
among kisses?

 
Or youŽve not still seen
that I miss
your exquisite fingers
sweetly intertwined
in the pocket of my coat?

 


The Most Relaxing Classical Music in the Universe
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Foundation of me


only a love

and the lights of my ocean have been wet
and I wanted to break the sky with my eyes
-worthy woman of every autumn that has been -

and I saw suns laughing in contour
because everything was open golden jaws
with the peace of those that receive soft kisses in the hands

it was only a love

and everything changed in me:
of a mud to a dreamer guitar
with my eyes flying far
returning with blue gulls

and I felt the happiness diving in my throat
of a pillow to another
with the mysterious still of spilled blood

how didn't I found a city for you?

only a love
your love grasped me
and already anything is the same as yesterday

how to be founded my bones without you?

World of Emily Dickinson
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my best love poem for you

A free poem,
a short poem,
my best love poem
maybe a sad gift for you, today.

The romantics words are flying
when my broken heart cried that day
and now you are my black shadow
following me
and nothing is funny to me as before,
-my sweet spanish woman/
my true/
my valentine day every day-
if now you are a cold sun
and you donŽt want my secrets
and you donŽt love my love,
anymore.

Please, come to me again,
my erotic girl of the heavens,
and weŽll open the forbidden doors
of your heart.
 

 
 

 

 

Tonight

Tonight,
my heart sang a song.
Tonight,
after all, the stars have envied our celestial enjoyment,
hurricane and calm in the same night,
tonight.

My skin was bristled by the heat of your bed,
tonight.
My carnal smile was involved among your sheets,
tonight,
and your legs cherished my burning face,
only because I have whispered your name before you
while my wild eyes invaded your wet pupils.

Your night dreams have angered your interior sea
under a hundred veils that hide 
your whiter scums boiling in your soul 
with your feverish flesh that shakes me 
in spite of your puff-pastry in a thousand silky leaves 
making you woman, 
tonight before me 
an enigmatic / desirable woman.

 

American Poetry Review
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love poems (free) of O. A. © - 2006
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