In times like these
I found the most peaceful sound
To be the sound of my breath
And the gentle beating of his heart.
Soft lips giving me my morning kiss
When he wakes up to work
And I wake up to go back to sleep
Bury my face into his pillow,
Wrap myself in love and red silk
And snuggle in.
“Bring me warm rain and dried lavender and you. I want you most of all.”
~ Emery Allen
His kiss
was lingering on my lips
like autumn leaves,
falling on the ground
My tender poems-
Rapturous longing
for you
A mix of emotions
and orange paint showing
the best shades of me;
our Lovemaking-
a delightful dance
Aligned mouths
and white lines
feeling the autumn dropping its leaves.
your voice does to me/ what autumn does to trees/ you call to say hello/ and my clothes fall naturally ~rupi kaur
September skies
And the taste of you
still lingers on my lips
Magnetic essence
Slow dance with me
In a room with an unmade bed
And vanilla candles
And you
tucked against my neck
Sunrise, then morning coffee
No more feeling blue
this autumn,
I wear my orange dress.
I fill the bathtub with water
I let down my hair
Falling on my shoulders,
waves of irresistible mess
I find bits of you on bits of me
lovemarks that I begged for
apricot smell fills the air
My skin smells like you
My body’s full of secrets
like anybody else
My emotions are waterfalls
deep waters
beautiful
dangerous
Sometimes I drown in them
Sometimes I sway
And either way
you still stay…
I dusted off the mirror
so I can see my own reflection
Untie my dress,
Slowly whisper to myself:
There’s no home like you
with all shades of blue
I am half blade, half silk
Half chaos, half river
flowing
giving life
glowing
when the sun kisses my neck
And my lovemaking to the words
is harsh and deep
indeed.
Don’t move the way
fear makes you move
Move the way
love makes you move.
~Rumi
Air of love,
I can’t breathe, breathe, breathe
drag you close
To inhale you deep
What do you wanna be when you grow up?
I wanna be a wanderer
But right now I have no air
Out of myself
such a journey
in the city of the lonely
where you lose yourself
over and over
A lover of leaving
a pocketful of getaways
between four walls
infinite options
Surreal
I can deal with any fear
All I have to do is
breathe, breathe, breathe.
Light rain,
Sun up to sun down
Soft pillows feel softer
‘cause they’re yours
The face melting down
While fingertips touching waves
white, red and blue
And my love for you
comes from the depths of the stars
And my lips are moving
or praying
or singing
Biting
pomegranate love.
~The ancient Greeks believed that pomegranate juice was the symbol of Love, because their legends proclaimed that the first pomegranate tree was planted by Aphrodite, the Goddess of Love
Moonless night sky
As I kiss you
Submerged in love
she wrote me a letter from a small
room near the Seine.
she said she was going to dancing
class, she got up, she said
at 5 o’clock in the morning
and typed poems
or painted
and when she felt like crying
she had a special bench
by the river.
Her books of Songs
would be out
in the Fall.
~Charles Bukowski, a letter from far
Ne acoperim cu noi
cu doruri sau umbre pe spate
dorințe în zori
Iar tu
ești aici, peste tot,
ești aproape
Te simt și atunci când
mâna mea nu e în mâna ta
în dimineață sau noapte
gustă-mi de pe buze iubirea
din paharul de vin neatins
din cuvinte și șoapte
Fâșii de cer și-un surus
pentru farul din imaginația mea și realitatea ta
locul unde să creăm și să vedem un apus
Să conectăm prin atingeri
să simțim superb
și nespus
În timp ce din tine,
iau bucăți și le transform în poezie
din mine,
valuri ce sărută țărmul
emoție și fantezie
Și-aș vrea să pot chema ploaia
când tânjesc după șoapte
să-mi picure iubire în noapte.
A poem written by Gregory David Roberts in Mountain Shadows:
Afterwards
when I am not with you
and you are alone enough
to count the nails in your heart,
tough
and studded like a treasure-house door,
when you arrange your silences
in the vase of an hour,
balancing the bouquet with memories
of hands held,
a spike of laughter
and the colour of my eyes
when you sit within the swell
of your heartbeat
and the purple tide daydream
laps at the shore of all your selves,
and your skin sings, perfume-pierced,
Afterwards,
surrender to this thought of me:
as the mimosas of Maharashtra in May
long for monsoon
I long for you
as the crimson cactus flowers of Thar
long for full moon
I long for you
and in all my afterwards,
when I am not with you,
my heart turns towards the window of my life
and begs for rain.
Here I love you.
Here I love you and the horizon hides you in vain.
~Pablo neruda
Today I found myself dreaming of blueberry pancakes
Vanilla mornings in your kitchen
And when I think of you I get an instant smile on my face
And you read all my diaries, my stories
And the poems of a beautiful mess
You have the waves of the sea in your eyes
And your eyes are not blue
But you have the depth of an ocean in you
And thousand of stories written on your skin
Prints of unknown places, people and sin
You taste like love and all my senses go keen
And when I long for you the days seem too long
And the minutes too many
As I keep listening for footsteps
But I ain’t hearing any.
Longing is a beautiful thing. It’s half poison, half hope. It is triggered mainly by wild things. Oceans. Nights. The sun falling into the horizon. Edges. Sweat. Mountain air. Loss. It doesn’t know reason. It stems from a space that isn’t defined.
~Victoria Erikson