Category: Poetry

Poems of love!

The Greatest!

When moment dawns, love’s essence becomes, what awakens my heart, to my sunshine. And therefore, my soul rises with love’s light. It’s another day, to do what’s right, wield love’s greatest might, with all my heart. Without love, tides never change, allowing time to enlighten. Because of love, hope is never lost, but yet, comes at a cost, will ask of your faith. But in return, it gives you the power, to vanquish lingering doubts. Love strengthens resolve, keeps the soul involved, with matters of the heart. There’s no separation in love, it’s not six of one, half a dozen of the other. If, love is therefore the greatest, how can the sum be less than; but completely whole, absolute in its fullness. Time doesn’t change it, space could never confine it, but the heart can refine it. Love’s benevolence, emboldens its quintessence, empowered by its greatness. Without love, blue horizons as far as the heart could see, would drown within the soul’s deep blue sea. Meaning; “if love the within a heart loses focus, deep hurt drowns the love, the soul no longer able to fathom the unintended, the blues within the heart.” Without love, moments are wasted, meaningless if not heartfelt. Love never truly fails, our own hubris what fails love. From the moment the heart awakes, all it needs is love, to let the soul feel its embrace. Enabling the heart to bear, what the soul needs to bare. The love deep within, displayed as the greatest!

WCR

 

She is, More than… 

Fragments, even within fragments of life’s story, the breadth of her worth remains untold. Broken, even when she’s found absolutely broken, her heart refuses to be, perceived less of. Pieces, even when she feels in shattered pieces, she’s never beside herself. Looking at what was, but what has become, of her heart’s resilience. Burst, even if her reign burst into tears, her love is never depleted. When her heart swells, she draws from the well, to replenish her soul. Torn, even if the day’s battle tore her heart to shreds, she goes to bed vowing. Tomorrow, even if her soul’s in tatters, she will rise up again like a warrior, with whatever strength her love can wield. Unravel, even if her world seems to be unraveling, don’t underestimate her courage, to tie a bow in it, and look fabulous at the same time. Fear of the unknown, will never make her unyielding love, be less than. Crushed, even if the weight she carries, leaves her feeling crushed, she will never throw in the towel. With love in her corner, ring the bell, her love is her tell. Even if, it’s round thirty of one hundred, she will never give up, nevertheless. Brokenness, will never refine, what it can’t define, the beauty within. And as such, She is, More than… what you perceive!

WCR

Into the River!

Into the deep, the heart to keep, love flowing like a river. A drowning soul doesn’t need rescued, every heart needing to drown, drown, drown; drown in love’s river. Leave troubles behind, unburdening soul of its veil. Sailing away the blues, no and’s, if’s, or’s will ever be needed to use. Within the submersion of love’s river, the soul emerges poetically versed, persuaded forever by its muse. The heart immersed within the melody of love’s rhythm, avoids life’s pointless schisms, a soul not easily swayed by depth-less isms. Many bridges of rivers to cross, what love builds over-seas. Come to its sure, crawl, walk, run; jump into the river. Don’t worry about shivers, coldest hearts find warmth, in a deep river. Sink or swim, love doesn’t act on a whim, but overflows, it will; a soul filled beyond the brim. Everybody needs love, but the deepest kind only found, found, found; found breathless, within the deepest place of the river!

WCR

AuGust!

Awe gust, air breathed a must, hurts brushed off the heart a must, keeps the mind from collecting dust. So that, tears won’t leave the soul, with unwanted rust. Life, can cause such unnecessary fuss, and sometimes, you just don’t know who to trust? But sometimes, that’s how life goes, walking tippy-toes. But those, Awe, the gust, the wind chimes, serenades of nature’s muse. Love’s melodies, blowing the mind to find, there’s still mountains to climb. Summertime, Awe, gust of its breathless sublime. The soul basking in the sun, sipping, heart skipping, having fun, jumping in the river. Oceans deep, oh, how sweetly love keeps, the soul from losing sleep. Under the moonlight, the night shines bright, holding the starlight in place. Sleepless nights, an excuse for love, to take the heart on a twilight stroll. Awe, gust of its ease, soul moved by love’s gentle breeze. What the moment sees, breathtaking  how it will seize, sway you with love’s enlightened breadth. Awe, gust of its calm, captivating with the beauty of its charm. AuGust, eighth wonder of the year, love gives you its cheer. Not for what the heart gets to see, but what becomes of thee. Knowing how to live free, within the reign of love’s majestic glee!

WCR

It’s Happening!

It’s happening, of such importance, it’s absolutely breathtaking. It’s felt, has its own atmospheric context, for it moves; happening. Oxygenating, how much is expelled, only time will tell. On things is for sure, it makes the heart swell, the soul drawing from its well. If, passion’s rendered infectious, therefore, happiness must surely be contagious. You don’t have to be a rocket scientist, to understand the gravity of its essence. It’s happening, nothing can erase its existence, can change its nature, can stop it from becoming, restrain the supremacy of its reason. It’s happening, power can’t refuse its will, cold vapor can’t refute its chill. Expressions of it exhibitory means, confessions of the heart’s inherent needs. Lungs divulge its truth, lips indulge its use, its continuum never suppressed. It happens, regardless of speech, nevertheless of thought. It lives in heartbeats, escapes into daydreams. Will do what it does, under your nose. It roams the night, exist in plain sight, resist being held tight. Its presence seeps, its worth keeps. Proving, in the here and now, it’s happening; breath is taken, so breathe!

Droplets!

Droplets, that drenches the heart, drowns the soul. Awakening life’s moments, with the sound of morning melodies. Droplets of heaven’s dew, resting breathlessly on the morning’s hue, precipitated breadth of dawn’s moistened excess. Droplets of love’s purity, of its clarity, of its divine fluidity. Overflowing, overwhelming, life’s complacent levees. Rainy days, misty moments, seeping from within, droplets of hope, of dreams. And, for those hearts loving wide open, a soul bared unfettered. Knowing more than this, lies beyond the mist. Living, out one’s ornate purpose, ones spirit basking in the tenor of, love’s beautiful reign!

WCR

Vowed!

Solemnly, vow deepens breadth of time, moments a heart never lets slip, through the transparency of hour’s glass. In to me it sees, out of actions it knows, commitment will make it my solemn truth. Deeply, vowed depth transcends. Not space, nor time can eclipse what’s at hand. The sublime significance of its kind, the soul so inclined, to never relinquish heartfelt moments in time. Profoundly, love’s assurance, never says there won’t be stumbles, the unintended fumble, the occasional grumble, days with deep within rumbles, souls needing to be fed. Beyond falling, in love; love’s endearing momentum should always, make the butterflies tumble. Sincerely, the moment the pledge is given, love states clearly, but the heart still needs to act. Letting it be known, it’s not a one-off encounter, but pledge of one’s heart, a lifetime of love’s endless glimpses. A racing heart stopped, with a gaze into one’s soul. Avowed love, meaningless if not true, pointless if not enacted. Two hearts momentous journey, to their one heartbeat’s forevermore!

WCR

Art of Becoming…

Art of Becoming…

The art of becoming, paints the soul in love’s self portrait, the heart’s beauty being one with its innermost. The process of coming into one’s self, the nature of one’s concession, the understanding that one’s worth, doesn’t exclude one’s soul. In the beginning, it’s first learning how to become, then how to be. How to let the progression of time, be some of our most profound breath-taking moments. Art of becoming, happens in stages, in acts performed, actions swaying heart and mind, becoming expressions of love’s meaningful soliloquy. Overcoming, part of living out, the tapestry of life’s artistry, what love inevitably becomes, purposeful. In the art of becoming, sway leaves in its wake a legacy, that ripple the sands of time, what the heart had a hand in. Being something, nothing tangible, if the love portrayed, hasn’t truly become everything, substantive. Becoming, turns into what it’s meant to be, transformative. It doesn’t have to be a work of art, to become a genuine portrayal. Having the it factor, love enacted intentionally, never inactive. The truest love, resides in deep places. Even brokenhearted, love’s resilience is unfathomable. What it needs to be, what one’s soul needs it to become. Within a heart well textured, versed in the art of becoming, love’s wholistic imagery!

WCR

Confetti’s Hue!

If, rose petals laid bare, scented with love’s sweet crimson hue, be likened to colorful butterflies, fluttering one’s heart like confetti, moving to the innermost? Would it feel like pops of color, organic strips of joy’s allure, painting a portrait of love, enhanced by the breadth of its charm? What if, brightly colored bits of love, pierced through the veil of indifference, would its perception be changed? Love’s celebratory triumph, in its wondrous expression, breathless streams of its hues. Its festive nature, shedding the narrative, love on its own could never shift, the state one’s point of view? ish like tones, never indicative of love’s intrinsic characteristics. When life falls apart, broken moments don’t define, what its nuances empower, worth that can’t be denied. Bottled up feelings, releasing bursts of emotion, but with love in the air. Become moments in life, enriched by love’s innate ability, the aspects of its fertility. Droplets of its essence, its beautiful hue cascading, like confetti!

WCR

The Difference between, Complete and Finished!

No English dictionary, has ever been able to adequately explain to my heart, the difference between a complete woman, and a man not finished loving her. When you meet a woman’s heart, it’s not about love at first sight, but how to treat her right. Holding her love tight, close with all your might. Her beauty, oh, it would behoove you, men. To never become complacent, with woo, woo, woo, who she is inside, her quintessence. Smart, loving, funny; her sweetness is honey. Sweet lady, won’t you be my, love of a lifetime. I’ve searched the depth of my soul, the search is over. You are, my completeness, I’ve found my here and now, my endless love. Your charm captures, in your arms love raptures. Will your love arrest me, if words confessed, plans to steal your heart, again and again. A thousand years, but another day of the soul searching the heart, for its buried treasure. The love, that still persuades of its completeness, of its breathless phenomenon. And even though, the heart’s flaws are prevalent, love inside still evident, its relevancy of completion; Complete, but never Finished. Love is, its action does. The heart knowing always, forever, love is not abstract, but conceptually present. To adequately explain the difference, between a complete woman, and being the man that will never be finished, loving her!

WCR