He took a sip and it tasted sweet,
She took a breath and felt the heat.
Like lovers they danced and steam began to form.
Miles apart, a desire was born.
A dream, a sigh, a chance to deny.
And yet neither did, the trance had its hold.
It’s been interesting to write love poetry to say the least. I’ve played with Dark themes and more excitable themes. This poem is a personal favorite as I’ve leaned into the more figurative and image driven. I’m a fan of imperfect rhymes and free verse. Coupling lines together is enjoyable, but there is just something about the mismatch at the end that really speaks volumes. It creates an emphasis on the last line, adding a sense of finality to what is a fast moving poem.
You never knew me, nor I you.
Two strangers, passing through.
The wind whispered as we walked,
No words uttered, no words talked.
So strangers we remained, only ever passing.
For in love, nothing is ever truly lasting.
A poem I’m sure many can find themselves acquainted with. Unrequited love. The brief, fleeting thought of acting on attraction, but letting a moment pass. It’s beautiful but ultimately tragic.
With this poem, I tried to capture an idea, a moment. It emphasizes what is unsaid and plays with the idea of saying more, without explicitly stating it.
The lines are coupled, following a simple AABB rhyme scheme. I like to weave tints of tragedy into love poems to make them more human and with the end of the poem, you get a sinking feeling. The flow is thrown slightly off rhythm and lacks much of the excitement of the earlier lines. It is abrupt and signifies that this is truly an end, not a beginning.
In the still meadow
A bird sat to sing a song
A tune unheard of.
It is national poetry month. A month of poetry starting with a Haiku. As part of the fun for this month, I thought I’d harken back to when I first started blogging and analyzed poems by famous poets, except this time, the poetry is written by me!
For Haiku’s, I typically start with a simple idea, an image I create in my head. The poetry itself is meant to tell a story since the word count and syllable count is so low. Rhyming becomes much more difficult, so typically I opt out of including it in the poem.
For this poem, it is meant to relax, a simple tale of a bird in a meadow. That is it. It is simply stating where the bird is, what it is doing, and the novelty of the experience. It has a hint that perhaps this is a remote part of the world, where man has rarely set foot or notes the beauty of the song itself.
If I had stayed, where would I be?
Would my life have been an Ocean, my joy from the sea?
Or would flowered meadows have grown dark?
Devoid of life, lost of spark?
If I had stayed, would you have cared?
Or would I have been left, forgotten, to the creeping night?
Entombed, exhausted, succumbed to your inescapable blight.