Tag: Valentine’s day

A Valentine’s Heart

The day that makes you forget, How fatty and bloody, an amorphous mold Of flesh, tube and valve, is. A chamber that makes its own electricity, And goes “dub dub” like a drumbeat. A viola leaf shaped organ in blood red, Is where we symbolically place, The origin and residency of love. An organ that

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Love Story

Foolish and clumsy, Devilish and yet haloed, The girlish shadow, And the woman’s aura, The whale hips and the whale tail, Joan of Arc and Lady Godiva, The mermaid corset, And the flaming red head, The love-me-clause, And the marry-me-sentence, The moist lips, And the running eyes, The “Yes, Yes, Yes”, The first base swan,

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Yet Another Valentine’s Day Poem

The unicorn and the destined day Of the white horse. The cherry plant That you water with hope. The strawberry colored lips, The dew of desire. The unforgettable moment When longing sculpts enquiry. The courage of wanting to be in love, On that knife edge. And the shape of a heart, Decorating a card, a

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Another Valentine’s Day Poem

To and fro, the high and low tides, Fate and the fated, and man, Who searches for woman,  Spanning the seven seas, To spawn a moment, That gives as much as it takes, The aching heart climbing, Onto another. The little exclamations The bursts of laughter, The silence that weds two gazes, And the palms

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A Valentine’s Day Poem

In an enquiry is a little sand castle, And child-like hands, That sculpts the vulnerable,  Not knowing where, High tide ends and yet, Making beautiful sculptures of sand, The castle and the rampart, Hiding a giddy heart, Holding an awkward face, That gives nothing away, Not even a hint or a clue, that two Will

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A Japanese Valentine’s Day Poem (Erotica)

  Sequoia and bamboo, on the ends of the earth. And I’d settle for the girth of redwood, And the brown-yellow skin of a tall grass   And I’m all six foot four inches A man, who towers over his woman, And only, when we make love,   Am I, dwarfing below her. Firing away

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Love (On Valentine’s Day)

If you can untie the knots of your brains And take every neuron synapsed with serotonin And throw them back on your senses You would. If you take that sweet spot of your orgasm And stitch on your lips You would [Then kissing would be the shortest point to brink, to overflow] And still, you

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In Venice

We are riding a gondola In Venice. She, my wife is resting her head Gazing at the canals and the architecture While the Gondolier sings a song We can barely understand. We are powered by gaze-chemistry And smile-bloom. Imagining how mythical Beauty is when standing still in time Just like Venice does. A Moustached man

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