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Saturday, February 10, 2018
The Many Kinds of Love
From Tasha:
The Many Kinds of Love There are three Latin words for love, and 96 in another language I read about, Poems about how you love, what you love, how you see love, and who you love, just to name a few thoughts...A valentine to love,
Dissected, chest sliced open, my heart pumps life. I hand it to you, the man who receives my impractical gifts. I am troublesome, full of passion, try too hard to give the greatest love. You spurn this complicated woman.
I can not be that simple woman, with garlands, not thorns, around my heart, that woman to whom you can give love with happiness. I desire you man- handling my bloody heart, a passion you do not understand. These strange gifts
are ignored, thrown out, not seen as gifts wrapped in arteries, veins. This woman gives them. My attempts to show passion do not work. You deem my offered heart unnecessary sacrifice. Man, I only meant to share my life, love.
Are my needs too fierce for you? My love, you deserve to be given these gifts with no expectations for a man who shares life with this puzzling woman. I want to give you this open heart with abandon, show you my passion.
My appetite for romance, passion is insatiable. Your ardent love fills many holes in my bloody heart, yet I find I still grasp for more gifts to make me feel I am the woman you desire most, always, as a man.
I want to learn how to give a man what he needs so he will make passion’s claims on me. Mark me as your woman, take this dripping heart offered with love. I am uncertain what other gifts to grant when you have my beating heart.
You are the one man I want to love, on whom I bestow passion and gifts. I, the woman with a bleeding heart.
To regret love is to take away delight: walling up happiness behind bitter bricks mortared with anger. To refuse love because it cannot be as one desires keeps one from the lover's joy, locked out of the fragrant garden. To love unconditionally allows the lover to receive whatever the beloved gives and still love on without expectation: a sun shining brightly behind clouds of night. Beyond our knowing, the stars move through the sky, and heaven sweeps up the tears of love making of them rainbows to comfort the woebegone. Do not regret having loved, do not regret being loved, to love from a distance may be enough. Roses and thorns grow on the same bush, but their fragrance does not wound.
this could do with some tightening up but I do like the line heaven sweeps up the tears of love... could drop the word the and the beginning and... heaven sweeps tears of love
Thanks for the comment. I agree, and it is also true that for some reason the formatting disappeared when I copied and pasted this one, I think I like it better with the 3 line verses as it was originally.
This one begged to be posted, and I will also writ4e a new one but could not resist the begging. Also, on another note I posted a poem practically mid week and no one commented on it. Please? I thought I was so good getting it in early for me, that is.
and when she asked me to of course i did and if you'd known her too then so would you can you hear her calling inside my head? from the land of the dead.
this is a very old poem that no one has ever read. the next one is from the same period ( 2006 )but more fun.
" only love matters....nothing else " - zoe baxter.
hey john, it's been a while mate still living in a transitory state with an uncertain fate but giving peace a chance is better than living in a trance
i used to think a working class hero was something to be now i just want my blankie and something for free
dear john, the modern world would make you angry, but also give you smiles they named liverpool airport for you. the ludicrousness of john lennon air miles
aaaawww john, we came so close to instant karma you with yoko and me with a lady called farmer
nobody but you told me there would be days like this watching the wheels go round, waiting for a virginia kiss another chance to hit, or miss
so many musical fakes and mistakes you were the real deal always keeping it real and telling me how i should feel
hair. peace. love. on the wings of a tarnished dove hope you are raising hell in heaven you are the only singer who's songs went up to eleven
now slimy bastards in shiny suits raise a tide against you but i'm still letting it be and passing on through
" this man said it's grusome that someone so handsome should care " - this charming man - the smiths.
only two poems allowed huh? pity. would have liked to post my " white with two sugars poem ".
Interesting. I do like the way your poems flow although they occasionally lose me in the current. ... And yes, two poems. The blog was just getting overwhelmed, and we need to give everyone a chance to be read without getting lost. You should post your extra one on your Facebook page.
oh! i just write too much victoria. i've always got a hundred poems in my head and most of them end up burned. i have a facebook page somewhere, but it is lost in the mists of time. no idea where. " we all live in a yellow submarine ".
I don't write a lot of love poems but found this one written for a prompt from another site...
Dance Me Through the Curtains Once young our hands held each others as we waltzed through life so bright and new a love so sweet it melted on our tongues our laughter like curtains hung and wafted through our life and love that billowed in the breeze.
Now we have grown old and feeble still our hands hold onto each other kisses gentle and sweet still share a secret that none other could understand as our dance slows and steps now falter the curtains fade a bit.
In the end as my last breath I take will your hand still hold tight to mine? oh love, dance the last dance with me through time and space and eternity dance me through the curtains that our kisses have outworn.
What is love and where is it found? Can it be dug from stony ground by determined fingers where it lingers beneath a crust of disregard?
Can it be plucked from a low hanging bough, fruit of devotion, or found in the ocean caught in a net of need, Or grown from a seed planted in the heart?
Or is there another way to seek it Does it peek from behind shy eyelids Afraid of being too bold, and told To look elsewhere?
To discover love is to uncover it, raking away dead leaves of discontent Straightening bent bits of hope dangling from a rope of despair of finding love anywhere, yet the seeking continues.
Love is a warm place, a kind face a comfort to children lost in a forest of discontent, disconnected from themselves and others. Love is a smile that welcomes, a song that soothes, a hand that holds, a kiss that says "I love you."
One of my kid poems:
ReplyDeleteSPRING LOVE
I look for love, some kind of sign,
a love for me, a love that's mine.
I look in every place I know
but only see my brother Joe
out on the porch swing with a book.
He pets Miss Kitty as I look
out in the yard. I look above,
a goldfinch sings. I don't find love
or anything. Some flowers bloom.
The roses smell like mom’s perfume.
I look again, and then I see
that love is here, a love for me.
I love the flowers, love the trees.
I love the goldfinch and the breeze.
I love to watch Miss Kitty play.
I love her colors, white, orange, gray.
I love the porch and love the swing
I love the warmth that comes with spring.
I love my mom and dad. Y'know,
I even love my brother Joe.
I feel the love that's in the air
and see that love is everywhere.
I always liked this one. it's clever and fun.
DeleteSo sweet, and so simple. It would make a geat kids's book with illustrations--either photos and text or drawings and text. Think about it!
Deletesometimes you can find love in a flower, or the smile of a dog - love and peace - paul.
DeleteHEART
ReplyDeletea sestina
Dissected, chest sliced open, my heart
pumps life. I hand it to you, the man
who receives my impractical gifts.
I am troublesome, full of passion,
try too hard to give the greatest love.
You spurn this complicated woman.
I can not be that simple woman,
with garlands, not thorns, around my heart,
that woman to whom you can give love
with happiness. I desire you man-
handling my bloody heart, a passion
you do not understand. These strange gifts
are ignored, thrown out, not seen as gifts
wrapped in arteries, veins. This woman
gives them. My attempts to show passion
do not work. You deem my offered heart
unnecessary sacrifice. Man,
I only meant to share my life, love.
Are my needs too fierce for you? My love,
you deserve to be given these gifts
with no expectations for a man
who shares life with this puzzling woman.
I want to give you this open heart
with abandon, show you my passion.
My appetite for romance, passion
is insatiable. Your ardent love
fills many holes in my bloody heart,
yet I find I still grasp for more gifts
to make me feel I am the woman
you desire most, always, as a man.
I want to learn how to give a man
what he needs so he will make passion’s
claims on me. Mark me as your woman,
take this dripping heart offered with love.
I am uncertain what other gifts
to grant when you have my beating heart.
You are the one man I want to love,
on whom I bestow passion and gifts.
I, the woman with a bleeding heart.
powerful write! loved it!
DeleteImpressive! The chosen form is so perfectly marrie with the content. Woo Hoo!
Deletevery passionate write victoria. sometimes i have to check if my heart is still there - love and peace - paul.
DeletePaul Bole finally posted a poem on Plastic Freedom for last week and commented on his peers. He says he is sorry it took so long.
ReplyDeleteLove and the Beloved
ReplyDeleteTo regret love
is to take away delight:
walling up happiness
behind bitter bricks mortared with anger.
To refuse love
because it cannot be as one desires
keeps one from the lover's joy,
locked out of the fragrant garden.
To love unconditionally allows
the lover to receive whatever the beloved gives
and still love on without expectation:
a sun shining brightly behind clouds of night.
Beyond our knowing,
the stars move through the sky,
and heaven sweeps up the tears of love
making of them rainbows to comfort the woebegone.
Do not regret having loved,
do not regret being loved,
to love from a distance may be enough.
Roses and thorns grow on the same bush,
but their fragrance
does not wound.
this could do with some tightening up but I do like the line
Deleteheaven sweeps up the tears of love... could drop the word the and the beginning and... heaven sweeps tears of love
Thanks for the comment. I agree, and it is also true that for some reason the formatting disappeared when I copied and pasted this one, I think I like it better with the 3 line verses as it was originally.
DeleteThis one begged to be posted, and I will also writ4e a new one but could not resist the begging. Also, on another note I posted a poem practically mid week and no one commented on it. Please? I thought I was so good getting it in early for me, that is.
ReplyDeletethere is no reply button after your poem at least on my computer
DeleteHow strange!You are correct, and I never noticed! How did that happen do you suppose? Might Victoria know?
Deletemostly thorns around here tash. very few roses - love and peace - paul.
ReplyDeleteFEVER DREAM
ReplyDeleteand when she asked me to
of course i did
and if you'd known her too
then so would you
can you hear her calling inside my head?
from the land of the dead.
this is a very old poem that no one has ever read. the next one is from the same period ( 2006 )but more fun.
love it! beautifully written
DeleteYes, and a good one too.
DeleteVery haunting.
Deletethanks bonita. you know who this is about, of course.
Deletethanks tash. i would never have started writing poetry, if she had lived. she was poetry in motion.
Deleteit still haunts me victoria.
DeleteMESSAGE TO JOHN LENNON
ReplyDelete" only love matters....nothing else " - zoe baxter.
hey john, it's been a while mate
still living in a transitory state
with an uncertain fate
but giving peace a chance
is better than living in a trance
i used to think a working class hero was something to be
now i just want my blankie and something for free
dear john, the modern world would make you angry, but also give you smiles
they named liverpool airport for you. the ludicrousness of john lennon air miles
aaaawww john, we came so close to instant karma
you with yoko and me with a lady called farmer
nobody but you told me there would be days like this
watching the wheels go round, waiting for a virginia kiss
another chance to hit, or miss
so many musical fakes and mistakes
you were the real deal
always keeping it real and telling me how i should feel
hair. peace. love.
on the wings of a tarnished dove
hope you are raising hell in heaven
you are the only singer who's songs went up to eleven
now slimy bastards in shiny suits raise a tide against you
but i'm still letting it be and passing on through
" this man said it's grusome that someone so handsome should care " - this charming man - the smiths.
only two poems allowed huh? pity. would have liked to post my " white with two sugars poem ".
Comprehensive and good.
DeleteInteresting. I do like the way your poems flow although they occasionally lose me in the current. ... And yes, two poems. The blog was just getting overwhelmed, and we need to give everyone a chance to be read without getting lost. You should post your extra one on your Facebook page.
Deletenice tribute to John Lennon
Deletethanks tash. " strawberry fields forever ".
Deleteoh! i just write too much victoria. i've always got a hundred poems in my head and most of them end up burned. i have a facebook page somewhere, but it is lost in the mists of time. no idea where. " we all live in a yellow submarine ".
Deleteall you need is love bonita.
DeleteI don't write a lot of love poems but found this one written for a prompt from another site...
ReplyDeleteDance Me Through the Curtains
Once young our hands held each others
as we waltzed through life so bright and new
a love so sweet it melted on our tongues
our laughter like curtains hung
and wafted through our life and love that billowed in the breeze.
Now we have grown old and feeble
still our hands hold onto each other
kisses gentle and sweet still share
a secret that none other could understand
as our dance slows and steps now falter the curtains fade a bit.
In the end as my last breath I take
will your hand still hold tight to mine?
oh love, dance the last dance with me
through time and space and eternity
dance me through the curtains that our kisses have outworn.
Poignant and sad. It choked me up. Good write.
DeleteBeautiful!!!!!!!!!!
Deletegeez! you sound like me sometimes. tiss the nature of bright things to lose their luster.
DeleteWhat and Where is Love
ReplyDeleteWhat is love and where is it found?
Can it be dug from stony ground
by determined fingers where it lingers
beneath a crust of disregard?
Can it be plucked from a low hanging bough,
fruit of devotion, or found
in the ocean caught in a net of need,
Or grown from a seed planted in the heart?
Or is there another way to seek it
Does it peek from behind shy eyelids
Afraid of being too bold, and told
To look elsewhere?
To discover love is to uncover it,
raking away dead leaves of discontent
Straightening bent bits of hope dangling
from a rope of despair of finding love
anywhere, yet the seeking continues.
Love is a warm place, a kind face a comfort
to children lost in a forest of discontent,
disconnected from themselves and others.
Love is a smile that welcomes, a song that soothes,
a hand that holds, a kiss that says "I love you."
sometimes the ground is just too stony tash and the fruit turns out to be bitter.......though we keep digging - love and peace - paul.
DeleteOh, yes we do, and someday, somehow, we may be rewarded.
DeleteI love "raking away the leaves of discontent" Very visual. Overall, nice job.
Deletenice valentine poem :-)
ReplyDelete