Tag Archives: love poetry

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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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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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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