Category Archives: love

Venusian Hearts

Afternoon, folks. Here I am at a burger restaurant listening to Muse and I’m thinking, “Well, golly gee, I haven’t posted a poem in a while.” So here’s a tribute to my new girlfriend who happens to be pretty awesome. I hope you can see just a little bit of why she makes me so happy. Without further ado…

Venusian Hearts

Untoward advance of the midnight sun

brings unfortunate end to evening fun,

but always there, some silver lining,

before my eyes a feast for dining.

Whitened stars

beset porcelain jars

astride feelings then

so far from mars.

Venusian hearts

pierced now and again

by Venusian darts

thrown now and then.

Tapered then,

by Aphroditic design,

is beauty spared

the stroke of a pen.

Yet here and now,

does candlelight bow,

and flicker,

and bicker,

and shedding evermore its wicker,

thus illuminating elegance ever quicker.

And under sheets of a bed

does red warmth lie

beside stones and pebbles

in a river you spied.

Yours, Truly.

Howdy howdy. Back again with another poem. Everything I write means quite a bit to me and it means even more that you would read my words and enjoy them. I sincerely hope you enjoy this one. Tell me what you’d write if you had the words in the comments! Without further ado…

Yours, Truly.

Would it be that I could write something so beautiful,

I think it ought to shine,

to light like a thousand stars in a dark night sky,

to burn like a lamp so flush with oil

that you fear for the cedar posts 

that stand so tall at your sides.

I think it ought to be a thing.

Something you can touch and feel,

something real.

I think it ought to be yours,

and mine,

and everyone’s. 

Something special,

and unique,

yet ubiquitous and clean.

Would it be that I could write something so beautiful

as to set that vile loneliness ablaze

and make love in your heart

that I could sign with a pen.

Art and Artist

Good afternoon, everyone! Anybody in the mood for a romantic poem? I would consider this one of my finest, even if its subject no longer holds captive the workings of my heart. I sincerely hope you enjoy a look inside the way I love. Without further ado…

Art and Artist

He stared, then,

in the low light of this cobwebbed attic,

at the weathered painting laid afore him;

there he saw it,

the face.

Taken aback, then,

by the radiance of this face,

he sat down upon a simple chair.

In this twilight,

her twilight,

he continued to look.

He was unafraid.

Beauty and grace in tactical confluence,

he stared so long at the elegant contours of this painting that the eyes began to move,

then the lips,

then the wisps of delicately tended hair,

until finally she rose from the painting

to greet her onlooker with a kiss.

Stupefied, he sat,

as the woman met his lips

and pulled back again

only to look deeply into him with warm, happy eyes.

For what might have been eternity,

the man could have looked,

staring into those deep and smiling eyes;

but he didn’t have that kind of time,

so he asked her to hold him as he fell asleep,

and in the morning he asked another question,

“Why don’t we go together?”

The Old and the Lost

Good evening! I usually don’t post this late but uh… it’s my website. This one’s about another dream I had. Have not been sleeping very well, unfortunately. I hope you all like it. Without further ado…

The Old and the Lost

In my dreams again…

Old friends,

I like to say,

knowing that we never were.

~

They are kind in this place,

much unlike the way I remember.

There’s a comfort here,

a mentor,

a lover,

a friend.

~

I hear the din of distant dishes

like wispy echoes

of a kindly kitchen.

~

The mentor speaks,

in the way a grandfather would,

with a gentle and firm german accent,

“Are you trying to win her back?”

No, I respond in my head,

I’ve already got her.

~

An old friend sits down at the table.

“Can I get you anything else?”, I ask with sincerity.

“No, buddy. We’re here for you!”, the old friend says excitedly.

The scene fades to black.

~

I awake again to the dark.

Peace On My Own Time

Good evening, everybody. Little later than my usual posts but I have a real nice one for you all to enjoy tonight. Side note: Did you know that “you all” as a plural form of “you” is a distinct feature of Kentucky and West Virginia english? Without further ado…

Peace On My Own Time

Beautiful lights

on beautiful nights

flitting over fluttering trees

and wispy puffs of cloud.

In the distance is heard

a siren,

far off,

as the blades of helicopters

slice through the sky.

What peace is this?

To know an evening of such bliss?

I am lost as I am found,

in the streets and in the trees

where weary heads would come to rest

beside the neighbors in their Sunday best.

Children play

in the street all day

just like I remembered.