.fb-like span { overflow:visible !important; width:450px !important; margin-right:-200px; } CELEBRATE POETRY I Love Poetry!  It is my thing and I have been writing it since I was a young girl.  My father and I would recite poetry together.  My absolute favorite with him was Annabel Lee, by Edgar Allan Poe.  But what is a poem if not shared?  The topic is Love.  As you […]" />
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EM Recites! April Is National Poetry Month

EM Recites! April Is National Poetry Month

CELEBRATE POETRY

I Love Poetry!  It is my thing and I have been writing it since I was a young girl.  My father and I would recite poetry together.  My absolute favorite with him was Annabel Lee, by Edgar Allan Poe.  But what is a poem if not shared?  The topic is Love.  As you know there are all types of Love.  There is pure love, obsessive love, passionate love; the list goes on and on.  This month I will share original Love poems from my personal collection.  You may read them yourself, or listen to them being recited via EM audio podcast.  Whichever way you choose to experience these poems, I hope you enjoy reading them as much as I enjoyed composing them.

Here’s to the beauty of Poetry!

 

 

LOVE’S BLOOMS

Author Desnee Young

The flowers that I gave to you

They bloomed in May, dried up in June.

I trusted you with fragile things

that wilted just before the spring.

They were not placed out in the sun

Nor covered when all warmth was gone.

Now Summers come with time to play

But all your blooms have died away.

They gave you buds that tried to grow

You let them freeze in winters snow.

So while the ground lies barren, bare

Perhaps you’ll ponder

What was there.

And maybe with Spring’s early bloom

They may return if there is room.

 

INTOXICATION 

Author  Desnee Young 

 Love is a spirit that travels through space and time 

Searching for a perfect specimen. 

One that is void of expectation 

One filled with longing 

Never giving up on the possibility 

One naïve enough to become entangled in love’s endless 

maze of confusion forever seeking a non-existent perfect ending. 

Can any vessel contain love’s lust, its pleasures, temptations? 

The madness of it all, exhausting. 

Love is none of these

and yet 

encompassing of them all. 

Forever evolving, immortal. 

Hold love close while it is wanting, for its presence is fleeting, 

Disappearing at the first sign of passivity; the slightest hint of sobriety. 

Love is the perpetual state of Intoxication. 

 

YOU 

Author Desnee Young 

 When I wake up in the morning 

And you lay sleeping, unaware 

That I am watching while you’re 

dreaming 

Softly breathing, lying there. 

The brownness of your body tempts me 

Your shoulders broad  

Your waist is slim 

I want to feel that brownness on me 

Covering me from limb to limb 

I touch the mystery of your 

Manhood 

I trace the dimples  

In your face 

I wonder what it is you’re dreaming 

If I’m somewhere inside your space. 

You wake to find me staring at  you 

Place your hands upon my breast 

I close my eyes 

In slumber softly  

And enter into  

Your perfect rest. 

 

TIME AND INNUENDO 

Author  Desnee Young 

 

There is a place void of time and innuendo.   

A gentle breeze blows particles of diamonds, crushed into dust  

over centuries, into infinity.   

Violins play a sonata always seeking but never reaching the ears of any man or woman. 

In this place a beautiful dream has been dreamt by everyone who sleeps.  Only a dream, it waits,   

watches 

Longing for one who is worthy to fill the void, expose the truth of the innuendo 

pick up the dust of diamonds and shape it into the perfect sphere 

Carve out the time to breath in the sonata that one only need listen, to hear. 

To make the dream reality. 

Is there no one worthy? 

Will no one enter the space where love waits?   

Patiently waits.

Can no one fill the void between time and innuendo? 

 

If, Then 

Author  Desnee Young

 If love is like an earthquake, then my soul has been shattered by its impact 

splintering my body into a million pieces, scattered across the universe 

No chance of finding all the pieces that will put me back together  

That earthquake pauses at the sight of you, ponders the reflection of light that defines you, seeks entry into the place that houses your thoughts 

That earthquake inhales the scent of you, taking it for its own, leaving its indelible mark. 

That earthquake surrounds you, and in its attempt at touch, flays your outer core, 

Seeking your essence, finding only God’s intricate machinations of man 

And in its incomprehensible aftermath, the realization of its destruction 

Unveils the truth of it all 

Nothing can stand, nothing is left 

Love takes all. 

 

 

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