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Love poems

idogE

idogE
1976,
That was the year.
I never could forget that song – “Sleepy Dawn”
But they say “Women and music must never be dated”
Yet I forget.
We were like Christmas and April.
So close, yet so far away
And I remember that radiant smile
Longer than a Pentecostal Hallelujah and
The magic moments we shared
A rose and her vase like Poetry.

Such a rare delight!

And my love came down
Heavier, than July showers
I remembered the birds and the bees
But times do change
And like the one wrong choice of a
Multiple-choice question,
A lone pronoun “I” was abandoned,
Dangling, like a misplaced modifier -
An elegant portrait of a jilted lover.

The birds sang the ballad
The wind the Dirge
And the shy drizzle mourned the demise of love.
And on her tombstone
An eloquent reminder – a fitting epitaph
An “ I shall never forget you,”idogE.

But here where the journey ends
I shall sit unfinished like an abandoned silhouette.
And along this rigid path of love
A sad trail of hurts,
Indigent signposts in this vicious tripartite
Between love,
deciet
And
betrayal.

Love

Love is a storm
Its eyes who could tame?
Waking the dusts of emotions
That pass, but never die.
To love is to be insane.
It’s maladies who could cure?
To think of you is torture
To forget, a kind of dying.

        

Soft and easy

You are soft tonight
As in embrace
Bright and beautiful
Like a wedding

At noon of night
You laid me down soft and easy
The rest was bliss.
Nocturnal bliss.
A night like that
No one forgets
They linger longer than eternity.
And about some paradise lost.
Who would really care?

Your breath still fresh in my mouth
Nothing could be more pleasant
Than two together in love.

 

Roadside

A beautiful house
The landscape serene
As in people’s dreams,
A message pad hangs on your door
But no pen

Of the love that we nurtured
Not even the afterbirth remains
All is lost as in a war.

Whatever happened, I wish I knew.
Even in love, I lose
Jilted like a throne without her crown.

Where you touched my heart
Now sprouts a sour delight
So I travel light
Like the afterglow of love.

In the books that we shared,
We were beautiful
As fairy tales

 

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Whitesmoke

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