Last Commented Romance Poems (1,693)

My my what have we now?
What She's decided and how
What are we not if not a blast
Just another voice in our past
Why this happens I do not know
It is me that you need to show
Wanting to Love wanting to start
Stress myself to sleep isn't an art
Without you, I am lead astray
I want marriage how about May
Into Love I'm wanting more
Ease up Life its not a chore

Tango of Two Hearts

I offer this dance a lark
of passion
& my desire
echoing depths
of your longing

lapping
singing
teasing

your tongue
against
pink velvet
your hands
exploration
of secrets shaded
within these garden walls

arching
praising
crying

out for pleasure
my hips seek you
my hands pulling your hair
caressing your face
divining rapture
under your
soulful kisses

embracing
touching
stroking


honey
on your lips I kiss
the taste of fire
from your mouth

sighing
crying
screaming

pleasures taken
from prerogative
offered by God
in your hands
& sung
from your lips
to my infinite
passion.


~SAS

Across the ocean~ Fire and devotion~ Your love has captured me~ Ships are sailing~ Pray be no failing~ On this stormy sea~ So long I've waited~ Anticipated~ Now I see the land! Soon we'll go walking ~ So sweetly talking~ Laughter and hand in hand~ And when night has fallin'~ And I come callin'~ You'll be forever mine~ So take this message~ Wait at the passage~ Remember our secret sign!

looking upon
a misted moon face
her silver fingers
draw on loves energy
touching feelings
gently caress
softly whispering
to emotions

beaming on destiny
one shadow
romancing night
sweetly dancing
lighting up beautiful
a dream

in the touch
of lovers hands
they all but hold
this love within
to behold you
deep inside
this soul
my angel
i do love

Her eyes, so gorgeous and beautiful,
Like the great vast ocean
That cover most of the earth
Bringing glory and beauty to the world,
So that from above, the earth gleams with loveliness
And everyone can see it,
As lovely as it is.
Just as her eyes are amazing and beautiful
As they peer into yours
Showing you the joys of the world
Holding great secrets that no one has known yet,
Like the earth's ocean holding many secrets
Deep within its depths way down below the surface.

As I turn to face Michael, I reach down and grab as much snow as my hand will hold. I run towards him both hands held high. My arms surround his head and the back of his neck is now a receptacle for my revenge. He tumbled backwards, taking me down with him, and we
land in a heap. He landed flat on his back with me sitting across him; gazing down. Michael then reached up and pulled me down to kiss him. Inches from contact I receive the full force of his snow filled right hand square on the nose. He then rolled me over and kissed my chilled face, pecking away the drops of snow. We slid into a full lingering passionate kiss which by rights should have melted every flake of snow in the garden.

Arm in arm we make our way back into the warmth of the house. Facing, still giggling, we begin to remove each other's damp snowy outer garments. Michael took my hand and lead
me in front of the fire where we face each other again and continue our ritual disrobing. I stand just in front of him wearing only a shirt and woolly socks which he found quaintly amusing. My face drops coyly, Michael placed his fingers gently under my chin and raise
my mouth to his. We kiss and become one, the world outside fading to nothing.

The wicked infant glint contained in green eyes of mine has changed now to one of true womanly passion. The flickering flames in the hearth, illuminating my hair. Michael wrapped in my arms. The night is now ours.

Epilogue

April 17, 1999

A post card sent to: Mr. Dwight Esterhouse

121 Moose Creek Road

Appleton Pa 16537

(Delivered on a rainy spring morning)

Read:

Mr. Esterhouse,

Thank you so much for helping me locate the inkwell and pens.

The wonderful marbles and their story!

With fond memories

xxxxxxxxxxxx

(here the signature had been smudged away by the rain soaked hands

of an honest man )

Postlogue:

Lying in bed, I look up at the jar full of marbles sitting on the mantle. I wipe the pearls of anticipation from my lips, will 6:45 ever come?

The rug in front of the fire felt soft and warm under my feet. Some Christmas seasonal bunk was on television with the sound down low; the voice of the announcer melting into the crackling logs in the inglenook. The only light to the room other than from the
comforting flicker from the hearth was from customary tree lights. The amber glow of a full moon was sneaking through the window between the spindly branches of our totem to the time.

My soft footsteps break progressively above the ambient sounds of the room. I stood in the doorway clad for serious action. Michael is suddenly made aware that there is an assault to be made on the snow which lay around about outside. He is compelled to
frantically search for thick sweaters, jackets, boots and gloves ready for the impending skirmish.

In next to no time we were on the open porch-way gazing up at the soft silhouettes of the snowflakes crossing the light of the moon. I dart out into the garden, and in a single movement, arm myself. Michael scrapes a handful of ammunition from the porch rail and compresses it to a perfect grenade. Launch. Hit! The smashed snowball resting in my hair catches gold and red fire from the light above. Michael commented my eyes had an almost infant mischievous glint.

Thwack. The snow stings my lips as I catch his projectile full in the face. The taste
of snow was like champagne. The delightful tingle left by its impact excites me into planned retaliation. Equipped with a snowball in each hand, I make a slow determined approach towards him. Michael hurls another barrage of winter's missiles; the first misses, the second glances off my shoulder, the third is miles off target. We are face to face giggling with childish glee.

I spot his next move. As his right arm rises to perform a forehand squish of snow on my nose I turn away. I now have more snow in my hair than there is on the ground! His second icy attack is more devious. With my back to him I should have known better. In a
split second his right hand reaches over my shoulder, opens my collar and the entire contents of his left hand is posted down the front of my shirt. My screams are mixed joy, horror and laughter

Poet to Poet-4/27/14
Journal Entry

Reawakened fears/
Waiting for the house
of cards to fall/

Poet, No one rescues us
at night.

No last-minute heroes
no nurses
no strange, wandering philosophers
with answers on the tips of their tongues.

We
are left
to sweat out our fevers
in dance,
and in poem.

We
are left
in coffee shops
at the edge of the universe … in jazz clubs
close
to the darkness …
or in south-side blues
clubs
far
from the tourists

Ours is the turmoil inside us,
and the need
to calm it.

Junkie-thin prostitutes nod at our bodies

Dancers
find cracks
in our armor

Long-time soldiers sit alone in the corner,
unwilling/
unable
to share
their minds

All experience has larceny on its mind

The discipline
is grounding yourself in the moment …
finding its beauty /
finding its wisdom /
finding its direction … and not slipping
somehow
into
tomorrow.

Pause / morning

The waitress just refilled my coffee cup.

I'm sitting in the last booth in the corner,
by the window.

It's gray outside /
sunless

Snow turns dirty so quickly in the city.

It's beautiful when it falls …
but then the city overpowers it, turns it gray, and depressing.

The city seems to overpower everything in the winter.

But winter does make the blues clubs,
and the jazz clubs,
and the coffee shops seem cozier.

Strangers tend towards each other,
and are a little more willing to share.

Hand in hand

Arm in arm

Arms around shoulders …
and then a kiss /
while winter whirls unknowing outside

Understanding begins in the silence
between our thoughts

Understanding dances to Coltrane-rhythms
while waiting for words to begin

I should close.

I will write again soon.
SAS

Am I?

Your mouth was dry...
Am I that wine?
Am I sweet enough, deep enough?

Your soul was searching...
Am I that light?
Am I strong enough, sweet enough, deep enough?

Your hips were reaching...
Am I that grip?
Am I kind enough, strong enough, sweet enough, deep enough?

Your skin was screaming...
Am I that whip?
Am I cruel enough, kind enough, strong enough, sweet enough, deep enough?

The pain of hunger....
The shame of feast...
I am that animal..
I am that beast...

~SAS

Thunder Crashing

She opens her eyes, slowly...
He is still there,
fine, proud, erect.


Outside, thunder crashes in the sky,
She can feel it's calling,
& is not afraid to reach out and take his hand
guiding him to soft corners laying abundance
& drenched in satin sheets.

The storm swiftly picks up
He continues to make her tremble.
she feels its intensity as his body strives for position,
she brushes his face telling him it's all right,
while arching her enthusiasm
making it easier for him to meet such demands of passion.

He knows and loves her so well,
techniques, pleasure, and the fire that dwells in
his heart for her.
All eyes are on the shadows writhing on the wall
such beautiful, exciting silhouettes.

More thunder
Her nails pierce his flesh as she whimpers
and a thousand sighs were finally set free.

SnowCoveredMuse