Browse Items (152 total)

What Love is

Elocutionist

You're so beautiful

You have to be careful with him. He has been picking up the fragments of his heart for some time. With great pain, sorrow, and regret he places them back together -- all by himself. If you want him in your life, you must understand the cracks in his…

WONDERS OF ATTITUDE

In the hush of evening’s gentle sigh,
Amidst the whispers of the pillow’s embrace,
Our souls entwine under the moon’s soft gaze,
A tender reunion, in love’s sweet space.

In the warmth of night, our words softly spill,
A delicate dance of…

When Love Arrives

What I admire Most about you Juliette.

Walking the Boundary

June 3, 2024 by Rosemerry


is another kind of path.
I follow its edges,
one foot on each side,
straddling no and yes.
Can a boundary be traversed
like the border of a country,
proving how grave a line can be?
Do…

Wait for somebody who understands all the different parts of you.

Vines Of Love Poem by Katherine Graven

Vines Have Thorns

Variables from my perspective.

Lady in tow with two; two parents nearby.
Little girl stands next to me with her eyes white/gold glowing. See and feel it first and look up in astonishment.

Look left and notice her looking up at me with hands…

Unconditional Love will always last forever.

Ulysses

Tuesday Poem: Car troubles – for Raymond Carver.

Too Lag, or not Too Lag

Subject
Poem

Description
To Lag, or not to Lag, that is the question.



Whether tis nobler in the IP to suffer the pings and packets of untimely slowness, or to take arms against the sea of routers, and by…

To The Girl With The Beautiful Eyes



To the girl with the beautiful eyes
There is a beauty unbound within you
A muse to my poetic verse
A song inside the silence
Something special as yet unearthed
I see a warmth and loving soul
I see a…

A Shield of Steel, A Heart of Gold,
A woman stands, her voice so bold,
When shadows fall, and doubt takes hold,
She'll face the storm, a story told.
With eyes that gleam, a steady gaze,
She'll speak her truth in fearless ways,
No matter who…

To My Mother

By Robert Louis Stevenson

Time | Michael Agnew | Spoken Word

Threads of the weave to See, Threads of the Web to Foresee, Thread of the Weave to Be

Those Winter Sundays -- Sundays too my father got up early
and put his clothes on in the blueblack cold,
then with cracked hands that ached
from labor in the weekday weather made
banked fires blaze. No one ever thanked him.

I’d wake and hear…