Love poems

[Senna Jawa]

[when i love...]

-

when i love down the drain
i'll be a poet
again

and a philosopher when alone
you're already hurting me
and you know it

when moonlit nights drive me insane
i'll sing
you're hurting me again
and i wink​

wh,
1991-06-22​

-

 

[UnderYourSpell]

Romantic!

And colors ! -- thus, I checked the two color threads and sure enough, the poem was there too, for a good reason.

Thank you

 

[Senna Jawa]

[your smile...]

-

* - - * - - *​

your smile rides
on vanishing raindrops

the spring i am glad
brings the friday night
welcomed
by the tired blood

your smile i am glad
circles amidst the texan pines

a poem like a gem
should light its own aim
but for your smile
you may have it
​

wh,
1992-04-22​

-

 

[Senna Jawa]

[the shadow's...]

-

- * - - * - - *​

the shadow's knife
has sneaked around
the summer's
semitropical gate
and brushed my heart -- i shiver

my shoulders missing the scarf
_ _ _ of
_ _ _ _ _ your full arms

look
i am a shadow
really
let your slim frame
pass through
like Moses through water

the strong Moses
_ _ and crazy Jesus poor guy
are my ancestors
​

wh,
1992-04-28
​

-

 

[butters]

Love
swells a heart,
engorges it with bliss
till it floats--
a hot red balloon in blue skies.

 

[butters]

sometimes she feels just like a big bowl of chili
his own secret recipe, brought on a treat,
spiced warm enough to make him open his coat
full of this and that, colourful flavours he can
wrap his hands around to banish the chill
leave simmering on the stove, gently bubbling
growing only finer for the wait
till he serves a rich measure of her up
dips his hunk of bread
wipes his lips,
dips again...

 

[butters]

to hang a painting

need to look with critical eye
at how light plays on walls
the lamp outside
the shadows thrown like
shawls across the shoulder of a room
the cool of dawn
high-noon
the ruddy fling of sunset
and dusk's immortal hues

i need the perfect setting
for this precious piece of you

 

[UnderYourSpell]

Shown around your town
via a phone in your pocket.
Ain't technology grand?
Still apart but
held close,
to your heart.

 

[Senna Jawa]

[i dare...]

-

i dare to say
that i much prefer
to wish you a happy
new year in person

i invoke
- - that image and more
that i test
- - your breath for the smoke and more
and your lips for the taste of tobacco
- - - - and i wish your eyes would be serious and more
and more and more no end
i wish for nothing more and nothing less
​

wh,
1985-12-15/16​

-

 

[Piscator]

Diastole

Even at the point
of relaxation
there is pressure.

Even when my
thoughts wander
they return to you.

 

[UnderYourSpell]

Tritina

Read in Latin, he woos with poetry,
and she hanging on his every word,
no translation needed, only their love.

His soft Southern accent reads of love,
the sound in itself the sweetest poetry.
Sensuality dripping from every word.

When he turns yet says not a word,
eyes meet, between them passes love,
a look that smoulders with shared poetry.

Their poetry, each line and word is love.

 

[Senna Jawa]

isotropic directions

-

isotropic directions

it's funny how unfunny
i joke
ad hoc
around the clock
across your mental block
i talk
i clown
from dusk to dawn to dusk

you sit slim but solid
the two needle stare
drills holes in the wall
thin lips let out what's the point

there was one once
but it's gone
​

wh,
1991-09-16
2003​

-

 

[Senna Jawa]

hi muse

-

hi muse

throw thrufare thru a thruway
yes fry your way
thru saturated May
i live Sunday
thru every Tuesday Wednesday Monday ...

yes Ms
i am no nerd
nor a tease
don't sneeze
at this alergic whiz

hey Ms
say cheese
i gave away my pants & shirt
i don't flirt
i don't squeeze
toilet paper in grocery stores
i'm a dude who adores
the dog food
barking
a perfect cube

i never understood
what the commotions are about
stoically letting pass the post-syndrome
of another saturday night​

wh,
1991-09-16​

-

 

[Senna Jawa]

postscript

-

postscript

that small italian girl
had a great impact on my- pocket
now i don't even dare
to think about another girl
​

wh,
1986-06-06
​

-

 

[Senna Jawa]

[... sunny side...]

-

* _ _ * _ _ * _ _ *​

they have their sunny side
i am not negative
my words cast shadows
'cos they are 3-dimensional
and they have their sunny side

my words are like bricks
heavy and they can hurt
but you
may take them
and build your home
with large windows​

wh,
1982-01-14​

-

 

[Senna Jawa]

Childish Brain

-

CHILDISH BRAIN​

sharp brain but a child
if you mind
childish star but its rays
shoot thru the ribs of mine
a game so transparent
that it's a child's game
if you mind
have i already lost my mind?​

wh,
1981/82
​

-

 

[Senna Jawa]

another supper for the monster

-

another supper for the monster​

Ariadne
i follow my one-way thread
there is no way back
there is little to look forward
even you
can't see thru
it's a maze
- - - an amazing mess
but the sun is low
the thread is about to end​

wh,
1984, feb-apr​

-

 

[Senna Jawa]

nested spheres

-

nested spheres​

young alexander had cut the gordian knot
with one swift move of his able sword
scissors have an easy time
with the umbilical cord
but a mature rope
can be broken only
by cutting
- - - - one at the time
each of its many threads
and it takes many steps in the desert
before you lose the sight
of the other party
one has to move
thru nested spheres
before becoming a stranger
to someone who used to be so close​

wh,
1984-08-09​

 

[Senna Jawa]

song-gone

-

song-gone

i would go and see you long-gone
with my eyelids closed
but i can't drive to you song-gone
with my eyelids closed

i would turn forget you dog-gone
if i only could
but with eyelids closed for so long
i can't help but see ...​

wh,
1982/1988
​

-

 

[butters]

One Hundred Love Sonnets
By Pablo Neruda

I don’t love you as if you were a rose of salt, topaz,
or arrow of carnations that propagate fire:
I love you as one loves certain obscure things,
secretly, between the shadow and the soul.

I love you as the plant that doesn’t bloom but carries
the light of those flowers, hidden, within itself,
and thanks to your love the tight aroma that arose
from the earth lives dimly in my body.

I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where,
I love you directly without problems or pride:
I love you like this because I don’t know any other way to love,
except in this form in which I am not nor are you,
so close that your hand upon my chest is mine,
so close that your eyes close with my dreams.



Source: https://www.familyfriendpoems.com/poem/one-hundred-love-sonnets-by-pablo-neruda

 

[butters]

excerpt from walt whitman's song of myself

Press close bare-bosom’d night—press close magnetic nourishing night!
Night of south winds—night of the large few stars!
Still nodding night—mad naked summer night.

Smile O voluptuous cool-breath’d earth!
Earth of the slumbering and liquid trees!
Earth of departed sunset—earth of the mountains misty-topt!
Earth of the vitreous pour of the full moon just tinged with blue!
Earth of shine and dark mottling the tide of the river!
Earth of the limpid gray of clouds brighter and clearer for my sake!
Far-swooping elbow’d earth—rich apple-blossom’d earth!
Smile, for your lover comes.

 

[butters]

Rainer Maria Rilke, 1875 - 1926

Again and again, even though we know love’s landscape
and the little churchyard with its lamenting names
and the terrible reticent gorge in which the others
end: again and again the two of us walk out together
under the ancient trees, lay ourselves down again and again
among the flowers, and look up into the sky.

 

[Senna Jawa]

well...

We got famous Neruda, Whitman, and Rilke. Their above three poems are ok though not terribly original or interesting. All three are far below my

nested spheres​

It may seem to be an opinion to an uninitiated naive person but c'mon, this is not a question of opinions but of knowing, of understanding, of good taste, ...

 

[Senna Jawa]

more, please.

Hey guys, give me more (and try to be honest ).

 

[Senna Jawa]

Back to the (poetry's) roots

People need to go back to poems like "To his wife" by Su Wu. You need to read Bolesław Leśmian or Julian Tuwim (in Polish, please). You can't get far with the typical "great" Western poems . Very few of them rise up to the dignity of being Poetry.