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Great Love Poems
LOVE IS KNOW SIN!
(FOR Nadine “Suzy” Clarke)
For an indefinite time,
You blush brighter than the Sun.
Love is definitely not a crime,
And marriage an occasion to stun.
I bring you roses and carnations
And for while you smile.
Baby feed and playstations
Are now more your style.
A governess for our little daughter
Is the order of the day.
In all this love and laughter
We still find time to pray.
Living in this great Creation,
We tile our domicile with contentment.
We file all anger and aggravation,
Under huge blocks of cement.
For love is know sin, it is all we bring,
From heels to chin it fills within.
Our day rocks roughly, with a rude rhythm.
And anytime you say… is when we’ll be chillin'.
I love you no doubt, and if you’re willing,
We could corner the market and make a killing.
So while I plant some seeds and do some tillin',
Be grillin' some chicken to make a fillin'.
Contributed by: William Harold Christie (aka WORD)
Spirit of Linguistic Ability.
Talking bout regret (for Arlene)
Big up the first fruits!
I look back in time, when the land was green,
In the golden age, way before I was a teen.
There was a beautiful girl, every inch of her a queen,
The image and likeness of God, her name was Arlene McLean.
She was maybe a year older, she was tall and slim,
With wavy black hair to her back, and golden brown skin.
She had a sister named Lavern, a brother named Dwayne.
Their actions said they loved me, and I didn’t complain.
We lived in Orangefield Village, our section of Paradise,
Sometimes I longed to go elsewhere, Heaven wouldn’t suffice.
Around Arlene though, I could be content,
She was smart and pretty, I knew I was intelligent.
This girl could teach me so much,
And I don’t mean hopscotch, baseball or Double Dutch.
She would read her books to me, My God! That voice!
I was hopelessly in love, I didn’t see a choice.
Sometime we would sit quietly on the roof of her home,
That gave me visions of living so long, that I’d turn to stone.
Then one day I lied, I told Nigel we had sex,
And sho’ nuff, when Arlene heard, she was rass vexed.
She confronted me with it but I was silent and so ashamed,
The only manly part was that I took the blame.
But the friendship was fucked! No trust no more
So no matter the millions now, I still feel poor,
No more Arlene with her diamond eyes and silvery tone
I would have to walk this life’s road alone.
Looking back now with the vision that hindsight affords,
I can see how life can change, with wrong and wicked words.
I wish I could see her, now that I do realize,
That the first thing on the agenda would be to apologize.
I guess that is what this poem is to me,
A way to say, “Ms. McLean, I am so sorry!”
(Rhymes for Monica)
The flower grew much as did many others
To the gardener, laden with joyful bothers.
And when finally she began to grow and flourish
Huge happiness heard his heart rejoice.
As spring grew, it saw this pretty flower so nourished
By love, as it danced to the winds sweet voice,
And laved in golden sunshine or bathed in warm spring rains;
Slow forgetting the gardener and his gentle pains.
So sultry summer came filled with heated passions,
So soon swarming insects for flowery favors as she would give
So sweltering suitors intense, impressed on the flower these days.
So showed this gardener, this fair flower’s uncolored ways.
So swore this gardener one raging night in a lovesick fire,
So swore he himself, never to yield to his most ardent desires
Never to touch this favorite for as long as he would live.
Then hues of brown and red heralded changes to come…
And surely soon enough, Artist Autumn was the master of the weather;
With woe we watched as frail insects fled her frosty home
Where she had thought that summer would last forever.
Later then, in a blast of cold she screamed for her gardener,
But he blinded his ears to her pathetic pleas and
Eternity’s sounds were present in a hour…
Now white wicked winter’s snows are like frosty seas,
Now there is no sign of the gardener’s flower;
Now she has withered away because of her fickle spot,
And her summer, her joyful summer, was the only summer she got!
When the gentle winds have blown
Past my cheeks into the mists.
When quietly, my love full grown
You no longer long for my kiss.
When drooping sleepy beneath the heath,
Restless dewy grasses have closed their eyes.
Will I, still despondent trek the trails,
Lonely for your smiles.
Though forsaken furrows erode my heals
Heedless will I continue to march.
While slowly in my heart congeals
The memories of the heart.
Each day it passes, while I cry
Time slowly by.
And I will walk without leave of hurt,
Searching for love throughout the earth.
That one day surely I will see,
My haven beauty close beside
My soul. The owner of the key
To my heart, my love, my bride.
But sadly then, the where and when
No stumbling mortal really knows.
Still surely shall I and my tired eyes,
Rove restless without the life that grows.
LOVE HAS NO LIMIT (For Nicole “Nicky” Johnston)
Big up Sav and Monty!
Love has no limit; there is no end in it. As much as you try.
No solving the where and why. Love is ephemeral
Love is preternatural. Hot like a live wire,
And hungry like a vampire. Love is all fire!
You need ice when you love, it is so hot.
And falling in love is like getting shot.
Your heart beats in a hurry, your blood rushes
It is like the flurry of Van Gogh’s brushes.
Your mind starts to worry but Nature hushes,
It is definitely no curry, these youthful crushes.
And when it wanes here come the pains,
You surely know not to do it again.
Yes! Love has no limit, there is no end in it,
There is nothing to do but bear and grin it!
BY: George Andrew Clarke Jr. (Spirit of Bodily-Kinesthetic Intelligence)
(A poem dedicated to Hillary Marshall)
August 14th, 2011
For all time I will love you,
There is nothing else for me to do.
Be there pain or sadness in your life
I will banish it! Become my wife.
Your words mean so much to me.
Your voice a familiar melody,
I prize our nights together
Our love should last forever.
You make me one with comfortable,
You make the world seem level.
You make me go to bed by seven,
You make me dream of heaven.
So baby, don’t be shy.
In my crib, we can fly.
I'll spend nights to explain the tome,
And in your room will be my home.
Contributed by: Carlee Makk
Carlee Apwan Makk is the Spirit of Telepathy.
Bless my eyes with your lips smiling gently,
Show me the depth of your person.
Let me take you to the hurtling heights
And the dangerous depths of the thing called “US”.
Speak to me about those better places of love.
Guide me through those
Harshly hard hurtings.
Let me be there for you, in the darkest
Night and the coldest hour.
Let me kiss your cheeks upon sleep
And smile into your eyes
Touch my shoulder with your love
To give me strength. Hold me back from destroying
Myself, and if you wish, wipe my
Quiet tears of helpless sorrow.
My arms will open for you, my eyes will
See only you, my ears will be listening to you
My body urgent yet gentle to warm you,
My heart constant in love,
How does one express joy or sorrow
Or admiration or horror
At the thought that: time surely advances
Through all – good, bad, indifferent and
All those stops between?
How does one sing in happiness
At the thought that as time flies,
Sure as GOD is GOOD, death comes…
Flying too, towards you – as the proverbial
Hawk to the proverbial chickens in the
How does one smile truly
At the reflections of past times stopped,
That are lost as your
Lucky hairstrand in a barbershop?
How can one be content with the
Thought that there is one year less to do all
That one has to do before the reckoning comes?
One can’t; one won’t; one doesn’t; one never tries to:
Instead, one smiles with the assurance of a better tomorrow
Made or about to be made!
One looks about at the sadness,
The aching, the sickness and starvations
Not only of body and mind but also of
One looks at the deprivations,
Excesses and abuses which take place
One counts one’s blessings
One by one