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This celebration of life is what reading love poems are all about. It’s what drove the poets to write the Psalms, Song of Songs, and the great modern love poems and songs. Reading love poems out loud reveals love in our own lives. I have been writing love poems to my wife the moment I met her over a decade ago. To read them, revives the vibration of love we all experience. My son is battling NF-1, a tumor condition and even this, with many surgeries, does not dampen the power of love, it enhances it. The Taste of Ancient Fruit Yes, I appreciate that love is a spoiled lie. For our in postmodern world … irony must rule. We, sharper than love, are way too cool for such a lost romantic dream. We ought to say goodbye and accept our wrinkles. Though, surveying the geography of your hips, the slight rise and fall of your oasis landscape, I am ignited by your charm in polished palm dates. The Song of Songs sing of your pomegranate lips. Your fragrance opens out into our full room. Your soul moves me to inhale your breath. Your kindness flows into our infant son, the wonder of your love’s truth makes us young. Oh, oh, how our shared life transcends death. I iron you lace white blouse crisp for church. Love, love, how I bellow through our slow night? Time expands moments like a boy’s flying his kite.
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This celebration of life is what reading love poems are all about. It’s what drove the poets to write the Psalms, Song of Songs, and the great modern love poems and songs. Reading love poems out loud reveals love in our own lives. I have been writing love poems to my wife the moment I met her over a decade ago. To read them, revives the vibration of love we all experience. My son is battling NF-1, a tumor condition and even this, with many surgeries, does not dampen the power of love, it enhances it. The Taste of Ancient Fruit Yes, I appreciate that love is a spoiled lie. For our in postmodern world … irony must rule. We, sharper than love, are way too cool for such a lost romantic dream. We ought to say goodbye and accept our wrinkles. Though, surveying the geography of your hips, the slight rise and fall of your oasis landscape, I am ignited by your charm in polished palm dates. The Song of Songs sing of your pomegranate lips. Your fragrance opens out into our full room. Your soul moves me to inhale your breath. Your kindness flows into our infant son, the wonder of your love’s truth makes us young. Oh, oh, how our shared life transcends death. I iron you lace white blouse crisp for church. Love, love, how I bellow through our slow night? Time expands moments like a boy’s flying his kite.