Post by Wildpelt on Mar 10, 2014 21:02:29 GMT -5
This is my first poem not written about a depressing or saddening topic. Please give commentary (other than grammer) and tell me if you agree, disagree, or hate it. Thank you.
Love is...
This poem is about love,
Love is the greatest lifeblood of all.
Love is the playing on your emotions,
The intentional manipulation of your heart.
Whilst being compelled by those around you,
It is the involuntary craving inside,
That comes to allow you to embrace
And hide from it.
When one enjoys love’s gentle touch,
The explosion of the tides of it,
The second we expose our minds,
It is the fastest way to cause torture,
Yet is the surest way for hope to reinvade.
This poem is about love,
Love is the exposer of all.
Those who have yet to taste love’s amazing grace,
Feel the lips on your fate,
What people, animals, and beings alike,
Fail to realize,
Is that the vulnerability, the openness,
Is the most incredible feeling of all.
It is the arrow that pierces your heart,
That opens up your inards to them,
Shows them your hopes, dreams, and desires,
With the flick of a wrist,
To show and reveal all,
And expose the entirety of yourself,
And allow your mind to flow freely,
Is the most amazing piece of it all.
What is not shared nor showed,
Is the very act of surrender,
Becomes the only part of the vigor,
Becomes the only part you will remember,
For when love steals and pulls,
Ones cannot help to moan and cry,
As your mind is swept away into this void,
Of emotiveness,
Yet fulfillments.
This poem is about love,
Love is the only key to us all.
Love does not abide,
It simply fades.
Yet it, unlike most, still remains,
It is still there.
Love is not intangible,
The haze in a clear blending cloud,
Even is one cannot see it,
Its imply retreats inside us,
Becomes a dimmer haze,
And fills us up,
Love does not abide,
Nor does it go away.
Even if we are able to sense it,
It is never going to leave us.
One cannot taste the air we breathe,
Yet that does not mean,
It is not there?
Love is a breath of fresh air.
This poem is about love,
And that is the life of us all.
Lips and hugs show it,
Yet even the deepest of such,
Cannot bring love into fruition.
The greatest inception of all,
The concept that love is created.
On the contrary,
The partner you shall find,
Only awakes in,
Be it male or female,
Makes it ascend from the depths inside.
Love is not a damp blanket,
But a warm and hazy mist.
Trapped in the bottle that is your heart,
Love for a family taps this,
Releasing some of it inside.
Yet true love,
Is a violent blast of it,
That releases sap through your veins,
Thought the body,
And mind.
This peom is about love,
For it is the greatest manipulator of all.
To simply expose the thing isnside,
Could be the most risky act,
Yet if you find the right one,
It becomes the best reward to reap,
The greatest of all.
IF you are able to find that partner,
That person that releases the power,
That feeling of love is not just blissful,
Yet it is the escape into the unknown,
And as your soul is transported away,
Not inside, yet not outside either,
Can stop you.
This poem is about love,
Which is the draw of us all.
Love awakens the instinct,
The primitive craving.
It tears apart the walls you may create,
Only to toss you at them.
The innocent become opened wide,
The strong become helpless,
The lost become loved,
And the contorted become whole.
If you must know of this bliss,
Know it is also the most painful of rips,
Should the deepest fear of losing your true love,
Hurts more than an open sore.
The cruel ones play on it,
And make it pulse and bled,
The thing that will hurt most of all,
Is that loss of it all.
This poem is about love,
The sweetest of nectars of them all.
Falling in love is more than surrender,
It is the submitting of your body
Manipulated to not fear it,
And to sacrifice your
Innocence.
The dangerous game,
Despite the risks,
Will never abandon you,
Even if you have lost it all.
Love is not lust,
Love is tranquil.
It does not make one take,
Only give.
Love does not force upon you,
Yet flows into you.
Love is not a tsunami,
But a gentle wave.
To drag you into the unknown.
To spiral you away into the void of trust,
Is the carving of every lover alive,
Yet it is not the painful attack of lust.
This poem is about love,
The most gentle rush of all.
Love itself is fragile,
Yet it causes more rapid symptoms.
Its no more than,
A fluid,
Shooting down your veins from the heart,
Warning you about your body with signals,
The very ability to inject into those,
It’s only warning you.
When the sap flows down within you,
The beating heart,
The wandering eyes,
The sweaty palms,
The twitching skin,
The increased breathing,
The blankness of the mind,
The inflation of your desire,
And the feeling of hope,
All are signs of the feeling of love.
To lose your love,
Is to lose your essence.
If one’s love runs dry,
There is nothing ore than painful,
Then to see your true love leave.
This poem is about love,
The most painful of loss.
Yet love is not evil,
Nor is it good.
Love is the same emotion as always,
The pain that one experiences,
Is the way that one receives, not has.
Love is the same as a field,
Lucius and growing,
Yet the evilest of men,
Stamp out the ground,
Just like the power a dictator wields,
It is the wielder that makes it so.
Love does not destroy,
The lover is at the mercy.
Love is more than just a four-letter word,
In a true reality,
Love is the sweetest of nectar,
Waiting to be awakened.
Love is the key.
This poem is about love,
The lifeblood of us all.
Love is...
This poem is about love,
Love is the greatest lifeblood of all.
Love is the playing on your emotions,
The intentional manipulation of your heart.
Whilst being compelled by those around you,
It is the involuntary craving inside,
That comes to allow you to embrace
And hide from it.
When one enjoys love’s gentle touch,
The explosion of the tides of it,
The second we expose our minds,
It is the fastest way to cause torture,
Yet is the surest way for hope to reinvade.
This poem is about love,
Love is the exposer of all.
Those who have yet to taste love’s amazing grace,
Feel the lips on your fate,
What people, animals, and beings alike,
Fail to realize,
Is that the vulnerability, the openness,
Is the most incredible feeling of all.
It is the arrow that pierces your heart,
That opens up your inards to them,
Shows them your hopes, dreams, and desires,
With the flick of a wrist,
To show and reveal all,
And expose the entirety of yourself,
And allow your mind to flow freely,
Is the most amazing piece of it all.
What is not shared nor showed,
Is the very act of surrender,
Becomes the only part of the vigor,
Becomes the only part you will remember,
For when love steals and pulls,
Ones cannot help to moan and cry,
As your mind is swept away into this void,
Of emotiveness,
Yet fulfillments.
This poem is about love,
Love is the only key to us all.
Love does not abide,
It simply fades.
Yet it, unlike most, still remains,
It is still there.
Love is not intangible,
The haze in a clear blending cloud,
Even is one cannot see it,
Its imply retreats inside us,
Becomes a dimmer haze,
And fills us up,
Love does not abide,
Nor does it go away.
Even if we are able to sense it,
It is never going to leave us.
One cannot taste the air we breathe,
Yet that does not mean,
It is not there?
Love is a breath of fresh air.
This poem is about love,
And that is the life of us all.
Lips and hugs show it,
Yet even the deepest of such,
Cannot bring love into fruition.
The greatest inception of all,
The concept that love is created.
On the contrary,
The partner you shall find,
Only awakes in,
Be it male or female,
Makes it ascend from the depths inside.
Love is not a damp blanket,
But a warm and hazy mist.
Trapped in the bottle that is your heart,
Love for a family taps this,
Releasing some of it inside.
Yet true love,
Is a violent blast of it,
That releases sap through your veins,
Thought the body,
And mind.
This peom is about love,
For it is the greatest manipulator of all.
To simply expose the thing isnside,
Could be the most risky act,
Yet if you find the right one,
It becomes the best reward to reap,
The greatest of all.
IF you are able to find that partner,
That person that releases the power,
That feeling of love is not just blissful,
Yet it is the escape into the unknown,
And as your soul is transported away,
Not inside, yet not outside either,
Can stop you.
This poem is about love,
Which is the draw of us all.
Love awakens the instinct,
The primitive craving.
It tears apart the walls you may create,
Only to toss you at them.
The innocent become opened wide,
The strong become helpless,
The lost become loved,
And the contorted become whole.
If you must know of this bliss,
Know it is also the most painful of rips,
Should the deepest fear of losing your true love,
Hurts more than an open sore.
The cruel ones play on it,
And make it pulse and bled,
The thing that will hurt most of all,
Is that loss of it all.
This poem is about love,
The sweetest of nectars of them all.
Falling in love is more than surrender,
It is the submitting of your body
Manipulated to not fear it,
And to sacrifice your
Innocence.
The dangerous game,
Despite the risks,
Will never abandon you,
Even if you have lost it all.
Love is not lust,
Love is tranquil.
It does not make one take,
Only give.
Love does not force upon you,
Yet flows into you.
Love is not a tsunami,
But a gentle wave.
To drag you into the unknown.
To spiral you away into the void of trust,
Is the carving of every lover alive,
Yet it is not the painful attack of lust.
This poem is about love,
The most gentle rush of all.
Love itself is fragile,
Yet it causes more rapid symptoms.
Its no more than,
A fluid,
Shooting down your veins from the heart,
Warning you about your body with signals,
The very ability to inject into those,
It’s only warning you.
When the sap flows down within you,
The beating heart,
The wandering eyes,
The sweaty palms,
The twitching skin,
The increased breathing,
The blankness of the mind,
The inflation of your desire,
And the feeling of hope,
All are signs of the feeling of love.
To lose your love,
Is to lose your essence.
If one’s love runs dry,
There is nothing ore than painful,
Then to see your true love leave.
This poem is about love,
The most painful of loss.
Yet love is not evil,
Nor is it good.
Love is the same emotion as always,
The pain that one experiences,
Is the way that one receives, not has.
Love is the same as a field,
Lucius and growing,
Yet the evilest of men,
Stamp out the ground,
Just like the power a dictator wields,
It is the wielder that makes it so.
Love does not destroy,
The lover is at the mercy.
Love is more than just a four-letter word,
In a true reality,
Love is the sweetest of nectar,
Waiting to be awakened.
Love is the key.
This poem is about love,
The lifeblood of us all.
