Tag: love poem

Love poem: Sweet nectar

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Love poem: Sweet nectar

It’s the waves of sadness that trickle with madness
As I cascade onto the lost heavenly golden shore,
Like a goddess from a stolen shipwreck,
I swim upstream, like an airplane in the wind
I won’t press send yet
I’ll leave you diamonds and all of your belongings, arranged into their definitive but transient places
Sprawled amongst my living room
Garments, piles of yarn & cotton
I thought I had it, but my god I’ve lost it

The breathtaking splendor
Of an afternoon in November
When you cradled me like a little baby in your mariner’s arms,
Like a tomboy
Like a child
Like with you, I’d happily run wild
Any day of the week
Do you mind if I speak
Or leave love letters, here and there, for you to read
When your eyes are
Closing
In-between somber nighttime
The stillness I could never objectify

A smooth transition
Won’t you pay attention
I’ve got my hair in curls, a floral neckline
A passerby’s time
Glance at the clock
I almost forgot
I have to let the sheep out before the wolves come back
From hiding
They do like to do that
So rambunctious and eerie
They paint me quite freely

I do love their art – I go to all of their showings
Even when they take place on a Tuesday, or Wednesday, and I’ve got more work to do than I can account for

I’m a lady of charm
And you’ll always find me armed
That part you can disregard

Glock 23 G23 Pistol Semi Auto Firearm Handgun Schematic

I won’t shrink in your presence
I occupy a throne
I go to places where most would be too scared to step on their own
It’s my afternoon glow
When you find me on that smooth soft-stoned path,
The dismay leaving my eyelids as I cast you not an ember of a doubt
But a becoming smile
Welcoming
Almost
Briefly
Weeping
Holding to you closest, what you want most

And that is?
That is?
Something to never be replaced
Something I won’t touch lightly on
Whispering to those in particular who have the patience to sound my vowels and consonants out, deal with the aftermath
Elegantly
Soft in the evenings
Rambunctious – they all are
Their witch hazel broiler room ticking clock
Like apricots at a wedding
In the middle of February
For no reason, no reason
For no reason at all

I sat down with you, there, close to the prisoner’s fence
I wanted to inquire whether you loved me
I can’t remember what I said
But I did
And that’s that
You’ll run me a cold lavender bath
Finding my hazel glow a little too appealing
Hopefully, I hadn’t been too revealing
The room is spinning
And I am thinking

You’re like sweet nectar from a flower that’s never been held

© Elle Silvestrov

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Free verse love poem: Speaking volumes (white florals)

distantcaveLeave a comment

Free verse love poem: Speaking volumes (white florals)

I’m in the pool, with your gentle gaze moving toward the horizon
Smooth riverbeds, crashing yet
Solemn
Tender in their collapsing wake
My sovereign ways trap you like hurricanes
Find slumber in the rectitude of my rendition of a classic painting of a
Prince attending to a young queen
Dismayed at her place, though in a quiet peace,
That glances violently towards a moral upbringing
A softness I couldn’t portray

The Dressing of the Favorite (1857), oil on canvas, by Henri Pierre Picou (French, 1824-1895)

A sea-foam fog dynasty I swore was mine
I told you the truth
It mattered to me
I found thoughts in my mind that I couldn’t hold back, entirely
Though I did my best,
To provide you with rest
My satin sheath, vibrant with scarlet cardinal fibers
The delicate breeze, like rapture
Golden but never, truth be told, reflecting lightning that makes marks in the sky
A tribute to no one
Is every structure soon to fall down?
The bolts unfastened, my lace dress & ultramarine form
A silhouette only God could have created
A boldness that scares away anyone who isn’t
Strong enough
To hold a woman in his arms and
Not want to change her

The light pink August calendar I have on my contemporary glass tabletop
That forgot the date when we
Began things
Paved was our course with giving looks at each other like we’re in a vintage film
A theatre for just the two of us
Hopeful dedication
Watching our past conversations and having new conversations about those from before
We don’t run out of things to talk about
But when you find me watching the cars on the road pass by us, viciously,
Counting the trucks
Taking note of their model and make
You see something in me that I could not tell you
Not because I can’t find the right words
I always find the right words

Along the Siene, Winter (1887) by Frederick Childe Hassam (American impressionist painter, 1859-1935)

I don’t know what you know
And I don’t know if you know me
But when your gaze becomes increasingly familiar, I cascade into a
Reflection interrupted by the silliest words you stream together
A childlike ambiance, golden in accuracy
Crisp like a wave’s current
Interjected with passing a cigarette lighter
Getting higher
From rays of the subtle light of day,
Muted only in temperament
Dulcet on the edges
I told you I was yours
I meant it, of course

Le Baiser (The Kiss) (commissioned by the French state in 1888, carved between 1888-98) by Auguste Rodin (French sculptor, 1840-1917)

We stop at the gas station; you run in to the corner store; you bring me honey green tea
For your girl (that is a friend)
Patient and kind
A dove’s brisk white feathers
Softer than mankind
Rougher than a woman’s fingertips
Comfortable in the chaos
Surrendering to a time when you could count the green specks in my eyes
And smell my white floral perfume

It seems as of now we have moved on to the Heavens
Where you call me Venus
And I mistake you for someone I’ve never known before
An oceanic climate to the boulders we create
When we feel inclined to say
Why do I like you so much?
Why do I like when you’re rough?
I do still find, thinking to myself, whether I’m good enough
But when the porch light comes on,
I move the thought along
To the binder where I keep my disarrayed opinions
Resolving to find
Some water to allow
My throat to stop tightening when I get up during the night
Patience, my ever-present accomplishment, finds its way to you
Presenting an elegance you couldn’t get from anyone else

Improvisation (1899) by Frederick Childe Hassam (1859-1935), oil on canvas

I find myself in spaces
When you are absent
Distress being transient
Because your face is

A discernment I couldn’t get from anyone else

The Aleutian mountains and the disintegrating cliffs
Couldn’t mask the foundation I thought we’d bring
Resolving to find
Some water to allow

My throat to stop closing when I sleep at night
I wonder if styrofoam composure could fail to observe my fright
To weave in serenity in light shades of pink,

On days like today, I’m unsure how to drink
Come, lay in bed

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Love poem: Grey t-shirt (chamber orchestra)

distantcaveLeave a comment

Love poem: Grey t-shirt (chamber orchestra)

A love poem about admiration & being interpreted as an authentic rendition.

A chamber orchestra to tell you that
I liked you in that grey t-shirt
Where stillness isn’t illness & former wounds don’t hurt
Moving my bed for me
Minding the carefully close-cut angles
Sweet diamond necklace for
Your baby girl
Soft as a feather
Lie here forever
Absorb the crisp meadow fog that bestows upon us
In our transient youth
We carry inherent truth
Teardrops like vessels that transmit to the azure
My ivory-white dress
Hair is a mess
Porcelain flesh

Find me in your wake

We drift like sovereign kingdoms unheard of
I don’t know your middle name
And this playground is made for the game
We play where you hold me when it’s dark outside
And the streetlights have yet to become undone
Every weekday I rise before the sun
Make you early morning toast
Vegan butter for my lover
You make me laugh in ways nobody ever has
And you’re so good at that
Turning my eyes lilac

Eyelashes painted tar pitch black
Tainted with dismay, but
The softest, quietest features make up your
Sweeping shoulders
A worn man with a contractor’s tan
That moves like sunbeams across flourishing streams
Finding meaning
Hope is so fleeting
But like windmills, we find a day’s work ahead
And you crawl in bed
Influenced by times I had said,
I would be here to calm your nerves
Patient and kind, like a little bird
I’ll be so warm, nothing has to hurt

I set a little trap; in it, I gathered dewdrops
Fragrances from the heavens
Get me home by eleven
Lay on your truck bed and I tell you I’m scared
The future felt obsolete but,
When our gaze meets
I find you in a pocket of porcelain teeth
Gnawing at the frostbite
The howling of the mariner’s night
You rearrange your textbooks and I, light as a pinion
Slip out of the way and I want you to stay
In your grey t-shirt so I can admire
The fibers that overlay your hardened shoulders
Something inside me no longer unnerving
The weight of the earth no longer a burden
You’d go mad from the chaos in my sheath

A smoothness to my skin that absolves sins
The way I’m lighthearted, like no one ever departed
Leaving me to stand in the snow that is falling
And it is now that I think I am stalling
From telling you, I see
Amber rays underneath your eyelids
In the near distance, a gathering of kids
Laughing like God allowed them to celebrate
We’ve got our entire lives to make what’s never been made
Your swarm of avalanches
The dark-cornered branches
This is my stop; I’m home now and
In mint julep transience and snowy ambiance
I’ve somehow arrived in your department
The flowers in the vase in the center of my apartment
The things that make me smile before I go to lock it

Behind me to turn to you and
We drove through Stars and Stripes
Detonating furiously like January ice
We slipped and fell in front of a chamber orchestra
A noise I can only recollect when you object
To me, choosing a spot in the shade,

You want the sun’s rays to cast their marvel on my figurine, my sugared marmalade
Vast open skies
Graceful, feminine thighs
I’m fair-skinned, I know, but your words go to show
You want to have me in the best possible light
Get the green in my patient & reserved eyes, just right
Note the ash blonde strands that are tied with a ribbon
Falling slightly on my face,
Terrible thing to waste
Being at the right time at the right age

When you are near
I don’t have to fear
That I will be seen differently than I am composed

It’s gentle velvet days and nights like those
That I don’t mind you being so close
In your charcoal-grey, woven-cotton t-shirt

To see me as delicately as I am composed
It’s silk & satin days and nights like those
That I just love you being so close

That I just love being in love, almost

paypal.me/LilacDoveCA

Poem: Ash blonde hair on smooth, pale skin

distantcaveLeave a comment

Poem: Ash blonde hair on smooth, pale skin

I don’t want to lie to you
I’m not that way, I don’t do that
You’re made of vengeance, I don’t unfold when I’m sad
Trust me when I say I wanted this so bad
It hit me like icing
Rotten glaciers
Terrified me, left me anxious
You kept count when we exchanged favours
But you’re at zero, and I was only a replacement

Within the rosebud,
I find my own hypnotic sentiment
My own catastrophic, magnificent scene
Tell me you’ll believe my secrets are true
Because honey –
I could never lie to you
In an effort to be honest,
Though you already forgot it
I’m more the kind of girl you remember until the end


The morning sun has got me feeling some type of way
I rehearse in my head, the convergent things I once could say
I wanted to celebrate with you in May
But I came clean – 
I told you God made me this way. 
Lilacs in the garden,
Birch branches, my god
The warm sunshine told me something I kept repeating in my mind
If you need to do it for yourself, you have to leave this man behind
(Keeping us strong, for the longest time I tried)
I can’t do this differently, I made a promise to the sky
I’m leaving empty-handed,
Though renewed and drip-dry

I sit on the cobblestone and find it hard to believe
That I’m packing my things, finally opting to leave
As this detriment took hold of my darkest fears
It took me quite possibly four thousand years
And you’re not the type to show your tears
That’s part one of why I had to go
I’m leaving it somewhere here, so you can know
Basic things to want, a natural, golden glow
(I’m old-fashioned –
I want compassion)
I want love that’s not inherently tragic
That makes this parting not the saddest
I want someone to look at me like I’m magic

(Please don’t become angry)

Leave flowers on my grave
Say sorry for your ways
Try your best to behave
Think of me in this way


Ash blonde hair on smooth, pale skin
Finds it kind of funny when she happens to sin
Sees everything for what it is
No matter how bad, finds it hard not to reminisce
Took several months to figure out the lies
Took several more to finalize a goodbye
Writes in prose for nobody in particular to read
At home in the snow, but quite fond of the heat
Got the song I used to send you on repeat


I can finally listen to its loveliness again
It doesn’t hurt anymore like it did back then
I capitalize on the meaning, listen until the end
It doesn’t hurt anymore like it did back then

I’m more the kind of girl you remember until the end
It doesn’t hurt anymore like it did back then
As much as I’d like to inform you, I won’t click send

Because honey –
I could never lie to you
I’m the kind of girl you remember until the end



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Poem: Little baby bat (February)

distantcaveLeave a comment

Poem: Little baby bat (February)

And that’s all that he needs from her
Pretty gal in his Vans t-shirt
“Felt cute,” so I matched it with a plaid skirt
I didn’t think you’d notice; when you didn’t, it still hurt

To know that I
Am not
The important figurine my egotistical self deems me to be
If our destinations were predetermined,
I know you’d still find a way to hurt me on purpose
Was so confused, wondered why I was acting so nervous
Fell into a tar black trap trying to become perfect
I think to myself, was it worth it
If it’s me, you’ll always think less
Doesn’t matter the lip shade or the dress
Doesn’t matter how warm the hostess

The pretty dresses that I bought to look like your housewife
Don’t even fit me anymore since I recovered and came back to life
I don’t think paradise is
Looking at a light pink satin gown
Having daydreams, strolling around town
Nobody to look at, so where I look is down
Beneath the surface, off the edges, your voice is my favourite sound
I hate, hate, hate not having it around
You lost yourself or something, your irrationality is profound
In this parallel universe, a new beginning is what I’ve found
When I think about my love, I kind of love myself now

Ambiguity and confusion
Inspiration and bliss
Hair soft & golden, my perfume is what you’ll miss
The floral soft magnitudes
The strings on your toys
One of your wrong moves was assuming there were any other boys
When the yelling got too heavy, I surrendered to the noise
I never cried in front of you; I held myself with poise
Some things don’t really matter when you don’t have a choice

I recognized a softness
In you, but it was me
I’m the girl with pastel colours, who makes life lovely
A beautiful, sacred place to be
You felt so far away that I could not see
The visions that you had of me kept smothering me
You had an advantage
You ran out of chances
You never considered the stones I held
To believe in something, to pretend
You loved being adored
I was alone and bored
Pick out keychains with our names at the corner store
Saying that you love me always seemed like such a chore

You move one way, I step right back
I held on tight; I now regret that
It takes some time for me to become attached
But the memories that we contain run like a time-lapse
And I have flashbacks
Panic attacks
Running right after you, you screaming right back
I’m the glass wind shield, you’re the baseball bat
This isn’t what love is like, do you realize that?

I made my resolution early
To not find myself trapped
I wrap my wings around my torso like a little baby bat
I think of you while in traffic, I get so mad
I’m not your baby doll no more, I’m never coming back

Running right after you, you screaming right back
I’m the Victorian vanity mirror, you’re the one whose mad
Then you tell me you love me, but you look at me like that
I’m not your baby doll no more

But I am what you lack

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