Tag Archives: love poem

My Legendary Love

That such love could find my path –
that of Delilah, or sweet Abraham’s Sarah –
Or queen of Nile to rest head on breast,
nesting in the sweet softness of her skin –
resting away in her scent of Heaven…
Dreaming of her full lips – so red
and glistening with dew of gods –
sweet nectar that I should long to taste…
and taste….
and taste….

Her vision of curves so enchanting –
her devotion to love so entrenching….
But what means have I –
such mortal man of treasures shy –
to hope for that of legend scape?
Desire she, Penelope – while
Ulysses out to sea –
Battling through axe and heart they –
her suitors of Ithaca plain…

Or should I wait to find dear muses –
Erato, of course my own…
Whispering my ears such beauty –
and breath divine –
that she, and only she,
ever be mine….

Or should it be –
absent that –
my muse of destined tragedy…
Sweet Melpomene to
hold my hand and soul –
yet wrest away my heart….

No, would not to thee be a pleasure born,
nor affinity for your most love adorn –
that your own beauty should sail
through my heart as the swiftest cutter –
its wake drifting apart from tales of old –
swathing our own, new legend of love’s lore!
For never in this world of books and pages –
nor old men’s tales – nor words of maids
has been alive such beauty as yours –
nor such lips that I feel to kiss them forever…
nor such sweet moans that barely escape them…
surely wishing to be inside you until ever as I.
So burn the fables – turn the tables –
Ulysses return to your own home!
For I have found love,
and our story is not yet written……

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© 2015 John Allen Richter
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Our Saturday Nights

There’s so many things in life we come to regret,
places we’ve been, things we done, people we met…
But there were the good things too,
like Saturday nights –
back when Saturday night meant something –
Like a cool summer night full of stars,
kissing in the park,
going to our favorite bar…
where there was always a friend nearby –
Laughter, a shoulder to cry on –
your eyes saying I love you…..

But those days are long behind us
you found a ticket out and said goodbye
The world sort of stopped –
but I didn’t notice –
I was busy pretending this lie –
that our Saturday nights were forever
thinking life would go on – and on
and the truth is really that I never-
baby, I never left you behind……

Another Saturday’s comin’ and I got no plans,
just gonna sit and think about the stars –
and the friendly bars –
and those cool summer nights…
gonna be thinkin’ ’bout kissin’ in the park –
gonna miss you baby –
gonna miss our Saturday nights…

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© 2015 John Allen Richter
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Nothingness

It comes and goes and we pretend –
we pretend to want it – to need it –
as though nothing else matters –
or could fill our lives more….
Mother nature fills our hearts with helium –
and so we walk on air as though –
as though we oursleves matter.
But we don’t.  Our lives are minisculeant
little nothings pretending a lie.
Pretending we matter – or to find –
oursleves better than another?
Or pretending that anything,
anywhere – something –
any creature could ever love us back!
Silly, love does not exist!
There is only “Oh, my – what happiness
being in love”  but then –
“You are not what I ordered.”
“Can I get a refund?” How to remove
a monster from your life – by the sincerely
Mr. Hyde – the doctor’s not in just now.
Would you care to read a magaizine and wait?
No thank you.  I’m late for my taping of
Dr. Oz – who knows my dreams and secretly
follows my life to fix everything there is.
Except death.  Death prevails – it is tangible –
an excerpted reality of what love would do –
if love could do – in its inexplicable vacuum.
I will not allow love to suck my brains out.
Not when I can more easily offer them to be
trampled, stampled, and stapled shut into
a schism of love’s madness.  I don’t need the
man behind the curtain – or the woman – faking
and flailing herself – moaning of love when
only Toto knows of such.  Only she needs the
wizard’s prized heart – which only
mimics the boldness of her hatred.
And the Tinman will laugh and
shit out her precious little dog.
Until then –
she knows that love is only pain.
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© 2015 John Allen Richter
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Where Did You Go

What happened in the coldness
of that room? Could I remember
ice skating?  or was that
a painting on the wall?
Do I still have my skates,
rusty blades made me fall – down
in snow tornadoes- slow –
through the sea of puffy coats –
and knit caps with balls on them.
Rosy cheeks going past – saying
something – or other.  Something –
certainly something I think –
come and play, play – but falling.
A room with a view –
happy skaters going ’round.
But only on the wall.  Madness –
happiness – something –
certainly something –
Something – made me die
in the room with the wall
and the painting said
when you were coming –
and I waited – waited
but they skated and skated.
And so I forgot.
I forgot that I love you.
The painting knows I do.
But it’s gone.
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© 2015 John Allen Richter
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Calling a Spade Love

I’ve told them all – never to fall – in love.
For when hearts patter – little should matter –
‘cept fingers and skin – loud breaths inbetween –
Hide it with flowers – or romantic spring showers –
or beautiful oceans – or gardens or potions,
or clouds or stars – or Jupiter or Mars –
birds singing along – to Cupid’s love song,
while all do pretend – it’s emotional end
I’ll stand this ground – to say I have found –
true heart is not snuggly – but just rubbing uglies…

And that’s pretty good on it’s own.

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© 2014 John Allen Richter
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Love Poem Actual

Little More, could I implore,
to such lovely creature found –
whose voice so sweet – and quite petite –
should come my way round..

Giggle, giggle, you angelic thing –
with ample bosom to spare –
have you a clue – what I’d like to do –
with that matching derrier?

Oh how this world could mightily change –
if woman should ever understand –
Men’s thoughts quite lofty – and oft most naughty –
with they pinned under hand.

So please dear take this rose,
a mere token of my esteem
such a little cost – for one who’d take any loss –
to get thy thighs between …

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© 2014 John Allen Richter
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