Love Poems

Poems to Become Infatuated With

Dreaming...

I dreamed I was dreaming
About a relationship steaming
With tempestuous origins;

Filled with sin yet gleaming
From a beautiful life teeming
With all of our personal wins;

A life within like no other, seeming
To make all things start beaming
Into what we want, and begins
A new chapter in a book unwritten.
Oh how I feel so ever smitten
By this woman who has bitten
Me and injected her love toxin
Which opens me to create what's written;

What I write and am right about;
Earning some clout and leaving no doubt
That being bitten is a thing so stout
To leave me a witless witness to pout
And shout about what I don't have;

And what I do have is in drought,
In danger of drying and dying, so I tout
What I don't have to flout;
A real deal seal
That makes me feel like steel
About how even keel
It really is... you'll see.

And so I kneel
And brazenly steal
What I need to heal
What isn't mine, but will be.
Possession is 9/10ths of the law
But mine is in present tense with awe
And tense it is on my side of the fence;
Nay, a wall that separates what's dense
From what's thin and light and meritless.
Time to get my sledgehammer
And hammer it out.

She's mine in time,
Like an unripe lime
That just needs more sun, more water, more love and an ever so slight change to the soil acidity.
She is my garden,
And I'm a constant gardener.
Better to use scissors than a chainsaw,
Finesse is what's best when tending her fire.
I wish she really knew how much I admire,
How I would walk through any fire to sire
One good minute for her, and my desire
To give her all the best things always rings
True to ME.

I wish she really knew how much she means to me;
How she beams with me;
How she seems to come find me;
How she feels when she's with me
Is a joyous thing to be a part of.
Sometimes I wonder if it's myself
Or simply a lack of those she already loves;
A fresh face, some crisp unheard words
That light her up, but maybe it's just my turn
To churn that stagnant intellect, and burn
Off with only what I can carry.
The thought of a lost lot
Of things in life which can't be bought;
Sold to the highest emotional bidder
In the midst of the most bitter
And tasteless dinner party you've ever been to.
I seriously doubt anyone's done for her what I'd do for her, with her, and to her on request,
At her behest,
Naked or dressed,
In the worst times or best;
For her, no failable test;
I'll always bear my chest
In the midst of any mess
To make anew my love professed
To action, to glory! I'm possessed...
Because of how she makes me feel the best;
But equally as cursed as blessed.
Remember, this is just a routine test
Of our emergency broadcast system.
We use it to annunciate our dictum