Love Poem No. 46 When Our Eyes Met Standing alone in the crowded room I was looking all around When, it was you that I found. When our eyes met The world came to a halt No one moved, no one talked The walls closed in together The air got thin And I went to you. Though, I don't remember when My thoughts went blank My heart asunder When our lips met It hit me like thunder. Now, my heart aches And ny body whines As our touch breaks It is your love I knew I would find.... When our eyes met. Pamela Fincher
Wills Point, TX |
Love Poem No. 47 Love Prevails How do I express how I feel? When does the loss and anguish hurt me so? My despair is deep and slow to heal Despite times passing, my mood is low I examine everything that has occurred How betrayal was the order of the day It hurts me so much to know how you have averred To consider my feelings in any way. Lies and deceit, used without recourse Looking into my eyes, you denied the charge Now you show all the signs of remorse Knowing the truth is at large. With tenderness and love, forgiveness is asked Holding you gently, I feel this is just Breathing deeply, my emotions are tasked To provide you with hope; in me, you must trust For as each new emotion upon me assails At the end of it, my love for you prevails. Nigel Addison
Stafford, England |
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Love Poem No. 50 Alone Have you ever felt so alone, yet so loved - Simultaneously Wondering - why does it have to be this way? No one should have to feel alone -- endure the heartache and pain the hurt and anger Is it me? Do I unknowingly push people away -- even the ones I love? or Is it you? Not wanting to know me -- to see me -- to love me
Is it fate? Am I destined to be alone -- forever? Is that what is to be learned in this life -- or not Am I to learn to accept loneliness -- or find a way to fight it? What is my lesson? How will I know? Will I ever know? Amber Lynn Hinson
Fort Collins, CO Not Object, Nor Gift But, Serenade It is not the when's but why's hence the eyes.. of thee.. that sparkle, oh...so radiantly ...
It is not the objects but me.. that freely projects.. my eternal caring for thee.. .
Freely projects .. like the Sun onto land, and the clouds that protect .. like a vigilant hand, waving across the sky .. bringing wondrous shade.
It is not object or gift .. that come to thine aid. It is I ... who lifts your spirits ... in sweet serenade ... . Warren Joubert
Johannesburg, South Africa Back to Index | Previous Page | Next Page |
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