Modern Romanticism

The aspect of romance, divided between the heartening and the thoughtful.

Poem – “Had we Known to Love?” – Romance – 12/10/2019

December 10, 2019

Should I have known to slow the funeral
Upon arriving to it?
When seeing your form, in a state of no tomorrow,
I breathed a sigh that revealed the cold,
And gave my grief my hat to hold.

Your form is as lifeless as the winter, with no shadow to show.
Because, the sun has bled its last into the final petal.
Life has won me over, by a selfish expression
Of miserable gratitude.
And beauty has saw itself fit to leave me behind.

I confuse, at times, love with beauty.
And say to myself,
“I am not beautiful,”
When I should say,
“I am no longer loved.”

I reveal myself,
My wounds,
As easily as I despise myself.
My face, it aches,
My heart, it breaks.


Erotic Poem – “As you Knelt, wide Open” – Romance – 12/10/2019

December 10, 2019

As though the ground beneath my feet
Saw itself fit
To open up, and spill forth the salivation,
From a mouth,
And from the longing
That had granted itself, openly.
You knelt there, upon the surface of the soil,
Upon the pavement,
And breathed a smile into my hands.
A little treat for your erotic soul,
For a face that has come to know
Itself, for nothing it truly knew.

Love is now a grind
During when your lips lay themselves down
To kiss my hands,
For all the gifts I offer in the form of white,
The bread, it is, that you’ve been starved of
To turn your mind towards the world of spite.

And now lust lies clinging to your shoulders,
Little beauty of modern times.
Being offered bread of white, for yourself,
Wide open and spread,
With hands upon your groin,
Soft touches to the sight of honey
That drains between your legs,
Because, your eyes knew when to feel.

However, they are closed,
And upon the sight of focus.
And, as an eruption comes to run your body into reverberation,
I’ll see splendid temptation
Coming from a new glance, from a heart of amorous dedication.
As I’ll say,
“All the bread I offer, shall not decay.”

Poem – “Solace, in your Eyes” – Romance – 12/10/2019

December 10, 2019

When Hell cannot be quelled
Of its shaping design, to forge a fire in my mind,
There are the eyes, I always follow
To where they point,
Upon my bosom, where a bruised heart, burns black.
A little woman with her hair in tangles,
And suffering as a stain upon only her skin,
Because, she has tasted flame,
The flame of deprivation, to her core,
The flame that whips the amorous words,
“I desire more!”

My little woman
With beauty so much in detail,
There is, yet, a single place I put my gaze,
That are the eyes of yours, with your glance over curved
And bared
I desire no more, upon when I am singed by pain
Than to see that stare, among tangles in your hair.
Little woman of much beauty,
Have we given all to else, the world and its thirst?
Place us both at the next moment in our wonders.

We are beautiful,
As we are meant to be.
And nestled beside ourselves,
In the Heaven of our belief.

With few promises to keep,
As desires unfolded, for ourselves to see.
We will continue to believe,
As I continue to witness,
Those two eyes demanding kisses,
Staring upon my heart, to make it once more
Flutter with a start.

Poem – “A Disheveled Promise” – Romance – 12/10/2019

December 10, 2019

Like the pauper, sideways upon the roadways.
Like the pauper’s eyes, with no stare that enters backwards
To the trailing mind, like the road before him.
Like the pauper’s mind, imagined to be Hellish
In whatever dream he’s conjured to pursue,
Because the sun seems too hot, and unreachable,
As the gold he’s longed to breathe,
It is us.

A nothingness, in what we hold,
To save,
To breathe,
To live within it,
And to savor it.
Is the love that we behold, before ourselves,
Still unreachable,
In our mire, in our filth?

We are still standing sideways, like the pauper
Before the roadways.
With our mouth, we weep, instead of with our eyes.
We speak words of solemn attitude,
And attempt to drown them in our hands,
Upon when we shield our lips.
Death stands before us, offering a rose
To you, the mightiest of us two.

Our promise has become alike the pauper,
Without his mind, ever fixated
Upon something real,
Because he faces the sun, in the summer,
As easily as he does, for the winter.
As unreachable as the sun is,
So is our love,
Because, our hunger is still uneven as our lips.

Poem – “I Love and Loathe You” – Romance – 12/9/2019

December 9, 2019

“Where else would time take us?”
Said the man, disavowed.
The little child at his feet, wished it could see,
For with blinded eyes, it only groped,
And was seen no different
By that man.
Because, the child was poor.

A woman full of buttons to her cloak,
Garbed in elegant modesty,
Swam in the hatred from a man’s disgrace.
Her child, singing with pain, like a flute to his lips,
Her child, as well, threw arms to swim,
In the grayness of a father’s negligence,
Because her man was the blind one.

“Where is there a future, for me, and for my little one?”
Cried the feeble woman, disowned.
She broke against his own horrors,
The ones, the crafted ones, by his hands soaked in grime.
His own face, elegant in crafted selfishness,
A little lake formed at his feet, by the blood of two broken hearts,
A child and one woman.

Where was God, upon this day,
Besides absent from all the dismay?
He was seated upon the highest throne,
And called for bread to be thrown.
A little current of wine,
When dominance is shared,
As this man neglected what was always bared.

Chaos drifted down the walkways
Of every new tomorrow,
And made newer puddles,
From everyone’s tears.

Poem – “Dew upon the Frailest Face” – Romance – 12/9/2019

December 9, 2019

I knew to love,
What was trusted deeply
To the nuptial part of our romance,
Before an altar with primrose and tulip,
And the sight of Christ upon our faces.

And, it was yours he shared the most attention,
As you wept, among the repeated sighs,
To the warm wind of this summer height.
A little droplet of morning dew nested beneath your eye,
The left one.

It created children,
And brought down a rain of orphans to your white feet,
Bared to the warm winds.
I cast love in a direction, I knew to be
The kiss to bring you ecstasy.

Little lady
With a vivacious spirit,
You have grown to only weep,
At the sight of me,
And I have yet to know of what emotion, comes the tear’s origin.

Shall I kiss, again?
Upon the forehead, perhaps,
Or the lips, again?
Upon each cheek, perhaps,
So that I may know?

Tears were once what we knew to be tragedy,
And tiredness.

Failure was a sting to our hearts, made-up by that ecstasy
And everything beauteous.

Poem – “Your Form like the Crawling Sea” – Romance – 12/9/2019

December 9, 2019

A mind made with shelves, adorned in the books
That read the past with much awareness,
And a heart that recedes with the tide
Of a bloody sea.

No fault could ever welcome itself
Into your open arms,
For you possess a form,
That outdoes even the sea with its many currents,
And many curves,
From cresting waves.

I am in love with a woman I have envisioned
To be my partner in life.
Her form, though, is a sight of great admiration,
With beauty to each mark,
And with a belly that exhales the breath to sing,
Resonating as the startled lark.
With tresses that rain to shoulders and neck,
And then to a pair of snowy legs,
That seem to stand, as the statue does,
Upon its base.

A form, and also a face,
Beauty is the notion, I have come to know,
By all your radiance, upon skin so immaculate in hue,
And desirous, as something I never knew.
For you have eyes that wander the extent of that form,
For seduction’s sake.
My eyes, as well, see the world over,
But never the sea,
Beautiful, in everywhere I have seen,
And marvelous, in white skin that bleeds the sheen.

Poem – “The Message Behind your Lips” – Romance – 12/8/2019

December 8, 2019

The distilled honey
From a thousand flowers
That blossomed nectar,
To meet the sun,
And shone there,
High above,
In the early noontide of this spring day.

I came away
To see thee,
And soon set upon a path
In a forest of green,
Lost and unaware
To my motions,
For they were as your own.

Stumbling through these narrow pathways
Beneath feet covered in stone,
I groped for a vine,
And only saw what I held before myself,
Being the hair that I always held,
Torn from a head,
Being yours.

I came away
To see thee, in a sea of loneliness,
And blew smoke from my lungs,
When love held its own above,
In a radiant Heaven.
Beauty caused us both to flinch,
Though, the hair still was clenched in fingers, heavy.

I clenched what I drew back,
What were the longest tresses
I knew to be,
A deeper tragedy.
A solemn hour upon my lap,
A beautiful heart in your bosom,
Quaking from all the shaking.

We were lovers for perhaps a minute,
Until we were dead for a moment.

You, a lady of the night,
And me,
Just a man with a burden to offer
A world that seems light as a burned feather.

Poem – “When the Evening Met Her Lips” – Romance – 12/8/2019

December 8, 2019

Downed by displeasure
To a dying day.
And then, downed by your hands,
To roaring sheets,
To see the evening in your eyes,
And then, the sunset upon your lips.
For you were the one
To kiss the day to vanish away.

My beauty, with hair so vivid in its angles,
And with body stark in its curves,
Alike those to the Earth,
And when you turn, the Earth turns,
When you twist, the Earth rotates
Upon an axis to make it winter,
When each flake of snow will descend
To meet your warm cheeks.

Delicate one,
Frail one,
With lightness to every step
That you make, upon this evening’s wake,
I’ll kiss those cheeks, for they appear
Somber enough for me to hear
Little remnants of sadness, quaking in your heart,
And how could that be?

How could,
That you would
Chew up still,
Misery’s fill?

I had thought
To have bought
Away the madness from your eyes,
So no longer do we dwell, in our lies.

Make it evening, forever,
So that we may see the shadows, cast over
Our debt, our currency to love,
Our pleasures, to our necessities from above.

Poem – “As you were Enamored in my Eyes” – Romance – 12/7/2019

December 7, 2019

I filled my eyes with the droplets of joy
To believe in you,
During when I had believed in you,
The delicate iris for my eye.
With each petal I had then plucked
To the greatest farewell,
And the shortest goodbye.

Your beauty was the sun,
And the moon, combined.
Resplendent, as a radiant star,
And how I could hold you, when you were under my eyes,
So that tears would fall to meet your mouth,
As my kisses fell to meet your mouth.
And my arms seem to be still around you.

You delicate thing,
You beautiful thing,
You porcelain thing.
How I’ll yearn to cradle your head, in the future.
How I’ll wish to kiss your tired eyes, in the future.
And it won’t happen,
Because it won’t come.

So my tears only fall to meet a shadow
That stands still at my feet.