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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