Last Edited Love Poems (252)

Wasting time
Hating myself
Never good enough
Tears and tears
Feeling sorry for myself
I don’t deserve anyone
I don’t deserve to be loved
Told as a child all my life
Believed it all of my life
Let it be told
None of that is true
All this time wasted
Love - Love
That’s all I need
To Love myself
First and foremost
The rest of my life will now continue to grow
For I Love - Love myself for the first time ever
What an amazing feeling .

No roses for Ray,
but that's ok.
As long as it's sunny,
Am healthy and pray
Can walk the Kaiser.

Everything's good,
Everything's fine.
Though i miss Inna
But, she's not mine.

Ah well, still i say .....
Happy Valentine day.

I want that somebody who'll be the first to support me,
protect ... defend ..... console me ...
Not the first one to emotionally hurt me ...
demean me... debase me...
just because I dont meet exacting expectations...
not up to par with one's "taste"...
And thereafter , seemingly punched in the gut
before getting thrown off the curb..
made me feel ... for one brief moment ...
like a crumpled piece of waste ...

It perplexes me how somebody can hurt
the one they supposedly love..
when I would have thrown myself infront
to protect him from any peril thereof...
Pointless to ask " how" or "why" ...
no any reshoot possible...
no words said nor deed done deletable
to prevent the tears
already shed and now dry...

I have learned that while giving / sharing
most of my love & heart to one I love...
wisest to save enough for SELF-RESPECT ,
to cushion any hurt ...
if ever that ship hits the rocks
and gets tragically wrecked ...
A partner should be one's rock & safe haven ...
the very first one to care , shield and defend
instead of the ego ruining it to a sorry end ...

I tried to describe my beloved but I couldn't

My tongue was silent and unable to speak
My pen began to write the sweetest words
He wrote it in describing my love for a girl
You entered my heart and resided in it
A girl with very feminine features
Her hair was so black, it took its color from the darkness of the night
Her wide eyes and her pain took away the beauty of her eyes
Her cheerful spirit was as if the joy had been taken from her smile
Suddenly my pen stopped moving forward
He is passionate about describing her goodness and beauty
Apparently he had never seen someone more beautiful than her
My thoughts were confused with him
Because if we describe one thing, we are confused about describing the beauty of the other thing
When we describe the eyes, we are confused in describing the extremely wonderful facial features
I tried and tried and tried
So I closed my eyes so that I could remember or recall even a little bit
I tried in vain and all my attempts failed
Gentlemen, I will tell you how much I love her
I will tell you what it is for me
She is to me what the soul is to the body
She is to me like the air I breathe
To me it is as the eyes need to see
Humans also need food
The writer also needs his pen.
Just as the thinker needs his thoughts
I think I'm exaggerating how much I love her
Or do you think I am negligent in everything I said?
I will scream to the crowd that I love her
My beloved, a rose among the wonderfully beautiful roses
My dear Nasma Rabie
I was confused to describe it
My mind is paralyzed and my words have stopped because I seem to be stunned.
He was amazed by the beauty of that face, which looked like the full moon on a full moon night
Lost among all those imaginary features
My love, forgive me if the words in your description failed me.
My love, excuse my modesty in expressing my feelings
My love, excuse me
Excuse me........... Excuse me. My question remains for her

How do I tell her.......she has become my whole little world
How do I tell her.......that in her words I soar and fly?
How do I tell her? Her words perfume me like perfume.
How do I tell her? When she speaks to me, my words disappear and thoughts fly away.
How do I tell her? She has become one of my dangerous secrets
How do I tell her? She is a candle that lights up every moment of my life
Then she asked me the reason for my long silence with her
Should I tell her that I envy myself and my soul every moment I hear her?
Or what

Candy words sweet
Kisses on her cheek
Listen as cupid tries his best to speak

He draws back his bow and you already know
What he's going to say
He wants you to be happy on valentine's day

He rushed this order special for you
Candy coated lines and every word is true
He hides behind a cloud in a sky of blue

He stole candy from angels to send your way
Yes heaven is where he's been and you can read this again
On valentine's day

Cupid is very busy making girls dizzy
He fills their hearts with excitement of love in the air
And on valentine's day his arrows have landed everywhere

There is no one like you
Valentine Rose
Master Creator
from where all life flows

You bring peace and joy
in the midst of pain
Seated on high
In the heavens You reign

You watch over us
Singing with sheer delight
Strong arm protection
Strength and might

Minutest details
demonstrating you care
A window or profiteroles
Assuring us you're still there

You are my first love
My sweet garden Rose
Quenching with love
White garments for clothes

Flourishing bride
Blossoming love for you
Intrepid journey
You've escorted me through

Provided a home
Plus a secret dwelling
Summoning my life
Extremely compelling

Drawing me closer
Into your heart
Rose scented fragrance
Never depart.



12/02/2024 ©

This day's celebrated only once every year...
Some look forward to it , while others
may feel a good dose of dread or fear ...
But undeniably, when it's here...
time to spread some love
and , even if virtual only,
to each and every nearest... a big hug...
Instead of merely giving it a shrug,
and say " Bah, humbug !!!" ...

Like a Navigator, using maps of old,
I now consult my list for one more story,
Which I bring to you; (If I may be so bold);
As it yields to become Poetic Glory;
Which may skew the facts; - and yet it must be told,
By myself (now somewhat old and hoary);
Now reconstructed from the "mists of time"-
As I settle to the rhythm of my rhyme.

So locked down from Covid, in old Sydney,
I watch the news in intermittent bursts;
Feeling now, I well could lose a kidney;
Or catch the Delta Strain (which could be worse).
Nonetheless, I must write on, and give thee;
A true account of my 'lover's curse';-
And like the night-time rain, which falls relucent;
I write now of my life without inducement.

I drank the years away, let me tell you,
Time vanished in solution down the drain;
And yet I have the wit to now renew,
My memories, and half-forgotten pain;
Therefore, before, this rhyme now goes askew,
I will write down my story bold and plain;-
Concerning of a girl in Quaker's Hill*-
An encounter that was an act of will.

Does anyone remember Lavalife?
The lonely heart's club, using just the phone?
And if you do, you may have met your "wife"**
(Though not for me 'cos I am still alone).
Not that I was looking for such a strife;
But like the "poor stray" I need a loving home;-
I've swum in murky depths - yet they're pellucid;
And no one knows where they may find their cupid.

And yet the introduction service worked;
It worked a charm (as it was meant to do);
For as a lover, none of this I shirked,
Because ev'ry woman's diff'rent - so would you?
And so I put on my very best shirt,
(Having now a destination's rendezvous);
Her name was Anne **- she met me at the station;
Close to paddocks, (as the suburb was then).

The year two thousand and three, (maybe four),
My list is incomplete, and not conclusive;
At any rate 'twas Anne, she opened her car door;
We introduced ourselves, which was conducive,
To further happenstance (and maybe more);
The conversation did not feel intrusive;
And pretty soon we're both at her abode -
(I would have gone there sooner, had I know'd).

Anne and I were sitting tete a tete;
But not for long - soon we're on the sofa;
Another glass of wine to feel replete;
And quite soon after both of us in bed were;
Then making love betwixt the clean white sheets;
During which (and something like a gopher);
I went beneath to taste that furry heaven;
Which beats hands down the taste of bread unleaven!

Thus, the lovemaking, it did continue;
As rolling overhead a thunderstorm;
Pelted raindrops down the bedroom window;-
While lightning forked in phosphorescent form;
It gave me recourse to remain "in venue";
My prospects of leaving were now forlorn;
Now her on top, she tosses her long mane;
And where I was, I wished there to remain.

Her body womanly, her skin quite alabaster;
As I watched the ecstasy upon her face;
And her reasons, I never thought to ask her;
We're happy, private, and not in disgrace.
It transpired that her husband left her;
When he found a younger girl to take her place;-
T'was that (and maybe her diabetes);
The rogue was gone - with no need for entreaties.

As all good things, they must come to an end;
(I was happy, and so was she, in fact);
And of this tale, I do not recommend,
Superficial judgment - I don't retract,
A single word I've said, (or verse I blend);
So, you've had another anecdote, I'm back!
The CS poet, they call lovecanbereal;
Whose verse, and meter have a silky feel.



© lovecanbereal
All rights reserved

When I was young; - though no longer a youth,
At twenty nine, where does this scene find me?
Well, I'll tell you, and I will speak my truth;
T'was Banksia*, near Rockdale*, near the sea;
And this stories true; - you'll have it's proof:
(T'is as sure as I write this verse for thee);
Her name was Kirsten (that was her working name);
And I'll write my truth, without fear, or shame.

Why in this age, do we still make our art?
When, probably, robots could do it better;**
As ghosts quite old, and shackled in the past,
Now raise up, and demand a fiery letter;-
And conquests (if you call them that) are cast,
Into stark relief, as they're unfettered;
Secrets, intimate, about which poets rave;-
Well, it's either this, or I take them to my grave.

Working on the railway, at Wolli Creek*,
Building a tunnel, for the trains to go;
Working hard, and working six days a week,
In the middle of a Winter, long ago.
When fixing steel for concrete earned my keep,
Where first the days, and then the nights, were slow;
It was hard work, at strange unwelcome hours,
Though through this work, my story now bears flowers.

So, in mid-Winter, Nineteen Ninety Eight;
(The twenty first of June, to be precise;
After having worked, from morning, until late,
(I'd got good pay, and so I had love's price).
A change of clothes; the pub that night my fate;
A few beers later, I had the taste for vice;
Before (and since) I had done much worse then,
When I came, saw, and conquered lovely Kirsten.

A nearby brothel, nothing quite so flash;
(I won't say where, but nearby is enough);
And luckily for me, I had the cash;
(For I was desperate, for a bit of muff).
So, on a cold Winter's evening, h*rny, rash,
I did now, set sail, for my bit of rough.
Soon, reception, and now the old Madam;
I paid the price; she said: "choose and have 'em".

Now five girls appeared in the reception,
The Madam; she told me to choose my girl;
Five dolled up ladies, now for my inspection,
(I saw a blonde one standing near the hall);
I asked her name, the Madam told me "Kirsten"
"Then she's for you, and may, she you, enthrall",
I chose her then, (as custom then would have it);
Another girl;- another costly habit.

So in a clap-board room, I turned the dimmer,
Of the light, on the ceiling, down a shade;
Our bodies, in soft shadow, now did shimmer,
And made our troubles seem to shy and fade.
Two figures, in half light, did softly glimmer,
(Like Venus and Adonis in a glade).
Then going down, into her secret place;
And all because she had a pretty face.

And moaning now, she parts her legs so softly;
She offers now her self,- there is no shame;
I kiss her mount of Venus - then so quickly,
Feel my passion rise and rise, as if aflame.
I'm on my back; she straddles me then slowly;
Rhythm builds, - me and my girl whose on the game;
And still now, I remember how she trembled;
As climax shook us both; on sheets we tumbled.

Afterwards, we had a shower together,
And water flowed upon us hotly, how;
She told me that I'd be one she'd remember;
(As I wonder to myself,- where is she now?).
This year's near gone, and soon, will be November;
So, I must write, while time, it does allow.
I tell of this, reader, need you ask why?
T'is been my life; that,- and tonnes of ennui.

So, now you've had it all; - I've set the scene,
The time and tide of passion - it is true;
And like a torrent onward, young love's dream,
Is but a bend in a river flowing through.
Where in my life, it's been a common theme;
More memories, which none can now undo;
I weave these stories, through my posy's bars;-
Such as they are;- beneath the fateful stars.



© lovecanbereal
All rights reserved

Well here I go again, one more vignette
The subject to not everybody's taste;
Though never will I say that I regret
Things done a while back now, and in some haste.
Incidents like these my poems beget
The memories described my "happy place"
Well here I go again - another girl -
In my life's dross a bright and shining pearl.

It was New Year's Eve Nineteen Ninety Eight
We're going to party like Nineteen Ninety Nine
Five hours to go until midnight's date
(I was at a house party in summer time)
In Newtown* in terrace - it got late
(For both of us it seems too much red wine)
I got talking to this girl, her name was Tanya -
What happened next I now intend to tell ya.

What happened there a "comedy of Eros"
As was my plight - a victim of the goon**
I plunge forth in my verse not at a loss
To now explain what came next (and quite soon).
And over this whole subject I won't gloss
(And you may say now "go and get a room")
As lost amid her tresses, and in night veiled
I would find this larger lady now prevailed.

Invited to this party by a friend
I knew not anyone there on that night.
And well, these kind of things, how do they end?
Well often it would seem a f*ck or fight;-
For me the former (not he latter) - a God send
(Good reader I don't wish you to a'fright).
I got talking on that evening to a girl;-
In the backyard of this house the night unfurled.

And as I said before her name was Tanya
I knew her not quite from a bar of soap.
She invited me to sit and talk with her
In the backyard of this house - not to elope.
Now people at this party arriving were
(It seemed to me this girl was my main hope);-
We got talking, then she offered me a drink
From her goon bag*** - I had little time to think.

So there we were, the two of us in "private"
Nestled amidst the shady leaves of trees.
Though soon enough for us the night got late
As dark shadow fell upon this greenery.
I think that for our lives all is but Fate
(There's nothing we could do now seemingly).
The conversation we were having didn't lag;-
She offered me more wine from her goon bag.

The night wore on, we drank this cheap red wine
In plastic cups - t'was not too elegant;-
And after four or five we felt just fine
(As those about us now became irrelevant).
The look in her eyes told me t'was time
For some foreplay - and this is how it went;-
Seducing her - a lovely larger lady;-
And the look in her eyes said "now!" - not maybe.

Well that was how it was - we were divested
Of these our clothes - with opportunity.
A little time in foreplay was invested
And then her love she freely gave to me.
Beyond return now; things were uncontested
(We may as well have drown'd in a deep sea);-
As now upon this girl quite reubenesque
My fingers traced sweet lines of arabesque.

Her name was Tanya, and she had black hair
To midway down her back in swirling pitch.
As I recall that night I was down there
(Trying I suppose to relieve her itch).
Then gasping somewhat, now came up for air
(Like a victim of a spell cast by a witch).
Before I knew it, I was on top of her;-
Soon to those party guests we caused a stir.

I thought we were alone - how wrong I was!
As others at the house had now a hint.
In groups of two or three they came to watch
Me now with my ample bit of bint.
Why do these things happen? I say because
Of grog (perhaps) when to these depths we sink;-
In he old days I guess we'd cop a flogging
For this kind of semi-private dogging.****

"All's well that ends well" (so the Bard did say)
(And cameras not yet in a mobile phone).
So let me not a'fright you - or dismay -
(That night, for sure, we were not all alone).
Such things are surely part of a lover's Way
(Though after this we both felt quite undone).
I write this because I can - it's who I am;-
On that New Year's Day - we parted - thank you ma'am!



© lovecanbereal
All rights reserved