PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

In the hush between heartbeats,

love moves without applause.

It does not demand, nor boast,

but breathes gently through the ordinary,

the smoothing of a sheet,

the soft clang of a spoon in a bowl,

the warmth of food prepared with care.

To serve is not to shrink,

but to expand,

to let compassion pour through your hands

like warm water over cool stone.

It is the silent prayer of presence,

the meeting of souls through simple acts,

where humility becomes holiness.

Real love does not seek a throne.

It kneels beside, not below.

It rubs the aching shoulders,

listens without fixing,

and gives without keeping score.

Two hearts in quiet rhythm,

each tending to the other’s light.

This is the still power of devotion,

not grand gestures,

but the sacred everyday:

a bed made, a meal shared,

a back soothed by knowing hands.

For when we serve in love,

we are not losing ourselves,

we are finding the Divine within us both.

Eyes like amber wine & tea, I drink deeply of their smokey charm.

The silk red velvet of her lips, Cupid's heart
I know well the pleasures they bring

Skin smooth and rosey, porcelain curves 
Soft to the touch of My caress

Lucious hair raven black, the way I like it

Poet shirt unraveled, twins set free to My communion feast

Hidden treasures call 'round snuffled pleasures, dimpled Venus thrall

A kiss for all

don’t be shy I will win you

the biggest (insert thing you want here)

I will catch all your throws

smile at all those jokes

except when they deserve a laugh

come love

wing walker

hold me at swordpoint &

pull all my treasure away

tomorrow

if you let me match you

I will parry every move I see coming

meet you where you are

bright star

quick blade

sit me down & shut me up

with your quick

hands

Beneath the thunder of our words,

a softer voice lies trembling,

not anger, but ache,

not fire, but the faint glow

of a heart wanting to be seen.

Each clash, a coded psalm,

a plea wearing armour,

the soul’s shy hand reaching out

through the smoke of misunderstanding.

We do not battle to win,

we battle to be held.

What sounds like conflict

is the sound of loneliness breaking open,

of love knocking against its own walls,

of yearning dressed in defiance.

So let us listen

not to the sharpness of tongues,

but to the hush between them,

where the true words live:

choose me,

consider me,

understand me,

accept me.

For every argument is a secret altar,

and beneath it burns

the quiet, stubborn fire

of our longing to belong.

To love, truly love,

is not the tremble of the lips in spring,

nor the wine-glassed vow beneath the moon’s soft ring;

it is not the poem etched in bloom and sigh,

but the dirt beneath the fingernails

when hearts break open and do not die.

It is to walk, barefoot, into the unknown

of another’s heart, not with lantern or map,

but with the trembling whisper: “I am here.”

And when storms rise like unspoken grief,

to plant your feet, not disappear.

Yes, it is easy to love when laughter spills

like light through clean windows;

when joy is abundant,

and the garden of the self needs no tilling.

But real love?

Real love, asks for hands in the dark,

asks for breath when breath is short,

asks for silence when words could wound,

asks for presence,

when every part of you longs to run.

It is the holy art of staying soft

when the air is stiff with tension,

of whispering calm when the storm is not yours,

but rages through the person you adore.

It is patience in the face of confusion,

kindness in the drought of understanding.

It is to sit beside another’s ache,

without fixing, without fleeing, simply being,

an open hand in a world of closed fists.

Love is not perfect.

It limps. It forgets.

It loses its way and learns again.

But oh, it is worth it.

Because beneath our bones,

behind our histories, we are just souls,

longing to be seen, to be known,

to be met in the stillness

and held as if we were light.

So love.

Love not for the reward,

but for the reverence.

Love bravely. Love deeply.

For this, dear heart,

is the divine labour of the living.

all life

at it’s core

comes from the sun

that solar furnace

the one place

in the universe

where the quantum and gravity

play nice

mass becomes energy

and energy becomes light

and absolutely everything

ignites

you said you

wanted to be seen

had so much warmth to give

the universe's a

cold and empty place

but you my child

are like the sun

where being becomes

light

and two become

one

I want to get lost in

the rock & roll of you

the slip & slide

motion like a drainpipe in your storm

crush me these shells will

find a new hope

take me away

this is more than just a vacation this is

fire magic sunrise driftwood

riding into the city

chasing that red tortured skin

tipsy me faster on your feather arms

flying to the edge of somehow

we spend years in this house

& now here is a new corner

later let me drift close

twin matchstick mountaintops roaring to share

let me learn to love all this land

I only want a little bit of ruin

some marshmallow ash to keep the captive inside

you can play me

hard like a piano

soft like honeysuckle between the teeth

don’t let death chase me

just a fffflicker of it like

oh- oh- there

cutting bringing the tops of my goosebumps to a boil

& every time we kiss

watercolor fade

it washes away