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Romantic Verses


A Poem To My Shy Lover

Than of my sweet Love’s gentle gaze,
Could my own eyes behold a fairer sight
as she doth waken to my touch with languid smile;
Her longing limbs reach out from moonlit haze
and through the shrouded secrecy of night.

What thinkest thee, that scarlet-ornamented lips are still,
And worries hide their tempest there behind thy furrowed brow?
Dwell not upon some long-past right or wrong,
Or silent memories carried on a song,
but only that which promises all mortal satisfaction, here and now.

Fear not, my dear, that sunlight seeks to steal our precious time,
and so dispels the moon from peaceful reverie above.
Our passion, hidden by the night, will not be quieted by dawn
When shadows fade and daybreak threatens
to betray forbidden love.

If my desire and all too roguish longing thee think sinful,
then, by rights, I beg no mercy for my fate,
but offer up my heart, and pray that yours will find compassion
that our love, so cloaked in darkness, must be slave to fleeting moments,
and show pity for my wantonness and woebegotten state.

Deny me not, my wistful, winsome lover,
that which rids my soul of all its doubt and loathsome fear.
‘Tis but your warming touch that gives my heart its cause to beat
and holds the torch that lights my restless spirit’s flame
when thou art near.

But if it please thee to admit no all-consuming need of me
and cast no furtive glance my way when morning skies are bright,
Then I shall relegate my roguish wants and constant longing
to the wisdom of the darkness
and the shelter of the night.

FCM

Love Poem

Should I compare thee to a quiet daybreak
That calmly flows into a Springtime morn
When fragrant blossoms venture forth
To greet the sunlight’s early warmth,
And fragile, pale green leaves unfold
to welcome tender buds as they are born.

To April’s vibrant blooms and tranquil elegance
Should I then, gentle Lover, thee compare?
To drops of rainbow-colored dew,
To scented petals, fresh and new,
To all things blessed with quiet grace,
and those things wild, wonderful, and rare.

Or would it please my Lady to be likened
to the wind-swept swirl of evening’s firey skies,
Where sunset’s rosey flames defy
the cooling breeze when dusk is nigh.
The starlight cannot stay concealed
With passion’s glow reflected in her eyes.

Beyond my dark dominion lie horizons
Where as sure as you are Day, I am the Night.
Your pure and unprofaned desire
Stirs embers of my spirit’s fire
And sultry, burning flesh gives way
as our two desperate, longing hearts take flight.

Speak to Me

Speak to me of joyful things that we once shared together –
Things we did, and dared, like children, running out to play.
Whisper secrets only you and I will ever know of;
Promise me you’ll always hear the words I do not say....

Sing to me the songs that we once sang to one and other,
Say you still remember all the words, despite the years.
Laugh with me until your weary heart forgets the sorrow…
Trust in me, and know that time will wash away the tears.

Come to me, adorned in misty fragrances of evening,
Cover me with moonlit dreams, entangled with delight.
Walk through streams of starlight as the darkness flows around us.
Tease me with your eyes, and follow me into the night.

Kiss me like you did when we both pledged our love forever.
Smile at me so softly, and so sweet as you did then.
Tell me that you love me as you’ve never loved another.
Hold me close ... as if we were together, once again.

Touching I

I feel your hands, warm as early morning light.
I feel your fingers tracing delicate circles.
Slowly, softly, they wander at their leisure,
curious at first, wanting to play, daring me to follow.
So slyly they venture over secret curves and hollows,
enticing my awakening flesh,
capturing me in tender torment.
I watch them through veiled shadows,
exploring, discovering,
molding me like clay, languishing in lazy, silken pleasures,
teasing me, and rejoicing in our laughter.
I feel you needing me.
I see your hands linger, as if to speak.
I feel them reaching, searching, wanting to taste,
radiating their hunger, and the fever of gathering desire.
I lie beneath your hands, sensing their strength,
shivering, savoring the rich, tingling seconds,
waiting for them to possess me, to tame me,
to soothe the wildness in my racing heart.
I lie beside you, breathing you,
bathing in the warmth of your touch …
wishing selfishly,
for the day to dissolve into eternal dawn.

Touching II

You were still asleep
when I went outside to pick fresh roses.
I stood wrapped in the morning mist,
looking at newborn blooms,
fascinated by the elegance of their fragile velvet depths –
their incense rising, resting on my fingers,
the thorns, belying their delicacy, warning me of danger,
their shy petals, tinged with color, unfolding –
like lips curving into quiet laughter and opening for kisses.
I watch you emerging from sleep as I sit beside you,
lost in fragrances of dew and fresh flowers,
silently wondering at the beauty of their miraculous being –
certain of your love,
and sure the softness concealed within the sweetest rose
can not compare to your smile,
or feel so gentle as the tenderness of your touch.

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