Category Archives: Romance

Maybe One Day

Good afternoon, friends. I’m always dreaming of the sun. I’m often dreaming of love and the future and what might be. Join me for a moment. Enjoy the poem today. I think you’ll like it. PS: I was just published in the first issue of Mind Swimmer! Go check out Julia’s website at https://smarellijulia.wixsite.com/mindswimmer!

Little Love Story

Is that what you want?

A love story?

You want to find yourself on a pier, set against the waves, awash under the light of the moon?

You want to lose yourself in those storied, starry eyes reflecting all your stories back at you?

Maybe one day.

Maybe one day you’ll sit there on the porch,

rocking back and forth

while the kids play inside

and the afternoon sun rolls over your tired old skin.

One day,

maybe,

it’ll all make sense

and you’ll wonder why

you ever worried at all.

One day

you’ll find your little love story.

Storied Stormy Nights

Hello again, all! Back from my vacation, I have a little poem for you all that I enjoyed writing very much. Imagine yourself on the deck of a ship, you and your shipmates, hardened sailors one and all. The sails start to flap and wood starts to creak as dark clouds draw overhead. Rain pours over you, washing away the the salt and sweat so forcefully from your brow as lightning can be spotted in the distance. The captain screams his orders over the roar of the wind and the seas, attempting to regain control of the rigging. Amidst the cacophony you start to hear a beautiful song. Drawn to it, you and your brethren sail towards the rocks. A song that beautiful… Surely there aren’t any rocks?

Ballad of Sirens

O’ that cape of forlorn hope,

I sail around the bend.

I hope to find on other shores

a beach on which to mend

that poison heart and all its open sores.

Sailors find their sirens

there upon the rocks,

a place where ships will come to break and crash.

Beautiful their voices,

and so too are their faces,

so beautiful in fact

that sailors won’t notice

how their heartbeat quickly hastens.

Is it fear, perhaps?

Rightful to so fear the siren, yes,

but perhaps that song they sing,

that pretty one that lingers in your ears,

perhaps there is some truth to it

and closer to the siren’s heart the sailor nears.

There I lie,

crushed and broken on the rocks,

comforted by those deep blue eyes,

color of the sea I’ve grown to love,

belonging to the face

of one graceful little dove.

I know I’ll not survive the night,

I’ve not had enough adventures,

or been enough places,

but to die with you will mean eternity,

to find again Elysium one final time.

To hold you in that orchard,

my forever love.

A Play In Act III

Afternoon, friends. I have for you a poem that I hope would make you think. I hope it doesn’t hurt too much to read. Perhaps you’ll think it all an act? A performance? It sometimes makes it easier for me to visualize the plot line of my life with all its twists and turns and heartbreaks. To see it in the light a director would, perhaps attempting to change the more offensive elements to be more palatable for a more delicate audience. I’ll watch this play in my head, trying to pick out the characters and the plot holes. When one day it ends, who will be backstage?

Graceful Wings

Why’s it always spinning?

Really can’t feel like I’m winning.

Always here and waking up again.

Licking wounds back in my den.

I feel like an animal,

or perhaps a small child.

One whose cranial capacity may be considered somewhat challenged in the mass department.

There’s an innocence in that.

I only hope that when I bleed that it is red I bleed and green you see in my eyes.

Maybe nothing hurts quite so much as now.

I don’t know whether I am a good man or not.

I only know that when the curtain closes over these hazels eyes of mine,

the only one on stage I’ll still see is you

with all your graceful twirls and dances,

your beautiful soliloquys,

and those eyes I swear were glued to me throughout the show.

I suppose I’ll see you at the end,

the end when all the families and friends and spouses see the cast.

I only hope that you won’t fly away from me again.

Summer’s Sweet Soliloquy

With it getting warm again, I have a poem that may tug on the heartstrings a bit. I don’t have too many words to say to that end. I believe it speaks for itself. Please enjoy, my friends, and tell yours!

To my summer love,

I think I’d quite like to go home.

To be with you and find our place out there.

To find ourselves in Rome.

To get lost together and not know where.

Have adventures, just the two of us.

Wade through the rivers,

and breathe through the dust.

Just to hold you in my arms for good this time.

You don’t know it, I think.

How it hurts to see you hurt.

Just how acute that pain is

every time I see you cry,

and every time you pull away.

My toes are always there in the sand

next to you.

My heart is there upon your bed frame

waiting for you to return

to warm it in the freezing air.

To my summer love,

The one whose hair is like a bonfire,

warming me under the stars and the cold night sky.

The one whose skin is like light,

showing me the way when I can’t see the sun.

The one whose words flow like water over me and my skin,

just the same as your gentle hands caress my tired head.

The one who I feel safe with,

always and forever.

Do You Kiss First?

How much for a kiss? How much do you love me, love? I have so much to do and yet? I do not do it. I am tired. I am not so sad but I am tired. It is a Tuesday through and through. Maybe the worst day of the week. Somehow, I do not find myself having a bad day. Just a boring day. Surely, you understand. “No I do not and don’t call me Shirley.”

California Vineyard

Creases trace lips 

like cracks

In an ancient oaken barrel

Aging that smile

Like a fine wine

I never quite get tired

To see you so inspired

That glitter in your eyes

And little joking sighs

Hard enough to be apart

But always want to be a part

Of you and we 

And this and us

Red lips

Sweet wine

Drink again

And find the time