Tag: romantic poetry

Free verse poem: Belongings

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Free verse poem: Belongings

This is a free verse poem about attachment and detachment – defeat on behalf of simplicity’s sake.

I didn’t expect myself to still feel like this
And my mother laughs because it’s only been a few days
But I feel like it’s dragging on
It’s dragging on
And we didn’t even come to the conclusion of what would become our song
So what am I here to do
Sitting in the corner of the modern, moss-green, vibrantly street-lit café,
A damsel in despondency,
A variation of your favourite four-course strings
A broken-down parlor path with a shiny diamond entryway and glass slippers lining the blizzard-sinking ships,
That match my cruelty
My taste for rabid tongue
The whispers I wouldn’t let you utter
And the hesitation you’d be lucky to never have suffered

Portrait of Princess Tatyana Yusupova (1850) by Franz Xaver Winterhalter, oil on canvas

A chance for melancholia to clash with the force of nature
To detract from a foreign film
A lost, aching still
An avalanche of surprise
Beguiled by sheer imagination and phosphorescent icing

That smothers a kingdom like the holiest ghost
Always bittersweet to the liking
Made for sharp, pristine vengeance

Sans Titre (Untitled) 115 by Eliane L. Guerin, oil on canvas

In my own reserved portrait of solitude
Gazing vibrantly at the majestic cars that drive by
The classics, the tragic
The ancient and recumbent
Reoccurring in stunning ways I could not even think to properly illuminate in due time
Typing
Silently
Wishing you were next to me
Smiling
The way you do
The way you do
So magnificent
Eyes glimmering in concave and crimson, blue
God, I was this close to being obsessed with you

I feel like
A teenager
An angry one
A bitter fool
Mad at myself because I brushed away the
The fleeting thoughts of nah, he won’t like me if I say that
Nah, he won’t like me if I wear that
Nah

The Bath (1874) by Alfred Emile Leopold Stevens, oil on canvas

I’m moving in circles because I forgot how to dance
I forgot how to feel alive
I trip over my own words
Everything is in disarray
I thought you were going
I thought you were going
I thought you were going to make it work
I thought you were
I thought you were
I thought you were going to make it work with me
I thought you were
I so thought you would have
Made it work with me
And that would be
Meaningful
Hopeful
Spontaneously planned
Crimson and clover all over
Soft rubber bands

Now you’ve got me in a pit and you
Hung up on me
I threw my cellular device on the street
I don’t want to talk to anybody
Anybody at all
Anybody at all
Anybody at all
Anybody at all

I’m not writing another poem about a boy that doesn’t have the strength to come
Tell me it’s not working
Stand there in your clandestine flesh
Stand there, giving me a real piece of yourself
Look at me with dandelions in my hair

Mending the Gown (early 20th century) by Adolphe Borie (1877-1934), oil on canvas, figurative artwork

Don’t say I’m too charming for you
Tell me I’m too alarming for you
Tell me I scare the living daylights out of you

And you’ve got other girls calling you
Answer the phone in front of me
Take the flowers out of my hair
Push me down on the tar-stained sidewalk
Bully me like you do on your bad days
Get your way

That’s how I want you to leave me

Not like
Not like
Not like
Not like
Not like
Not like
Not like
Not like

This image has an empty alt attribute; its file name is Open-Air-Interior-barcelona-1892-Ramon-Casas-i-Carbo.jpg
Open Air Interior Barcelona (1892) by Ramon Casos i Carbo, oil on canvas

Worn desperation
Mixing in fevers of separation

But I thought I
Belonged

https://www.instagram.com/lilacdovee/

Thank you for reading, & be sure to visit paypal.me/LilacDoveCA to buy me a coffee for my birthday on September 14, 2022.

Thank you for your support – currently working on the cocktail party poetry collection.

xoxo

Free verse love poem: Speaking volumes (white florals)

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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

paypal.me/LilacDoveCA

Poem: How little I meant

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Poem: How little I meant

Live in modest obscurity
Classic California beach living
Sunglasses, shades, Maseratis, fast cars, soda pop
A life that has been glamorized
Or so I had hypothesized
He wouldn’t even be reading in between my lines
Too busy thinking about himself all the time

Perhaps a few motels overlooking the coast
Empty parking lots
Paint a vision for yourself
Soft ice cream in all good health
Said you were sober, had liquor on the top shelf
Honey, I thought you loved yourself

Ladies, you know me for my diamonds
I’ll show you everything sparkly that’s designer
That girl you once knew, you’re right behind her
To enjoy the high life without mascara on
To come to rise with the evening sun
To know how to really know someone
Stay omnipresent – hot, wild, and young
Like every morning, a new life has just begun
Dark spaces for dark traces of ice-cold skeletons
Bones only fit like fragments
Do what you’re told
Let your dream love life in front of you start to unfold

Everything in the right order
Everything in the right order
Everything all the same
Everything all the same

Lying between last quarter and new moon
I figured when we’d talk, we would be with each other soon
There are words on my body, on yours – video game cartoons
You never meant to express how little I meant to you

I started noticing in conversation
When the focus was on us, you lacked elation
I quit my work for you, I gave up waiting
I became so exhausted not living, but waiting
I tried to show you I was patient
You hate yourself like you’re tainted
Letting of go of the dream that one day you and I would make it

Now I’m in the doorway, sort of half-naked
I’m alone, but I’m tranquil, and nothing you do will change it

I’m alone but I’m tranquil
Nothing you do will change it

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Poem: Bleed out (coughing)

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Poem: Bleed out (coughing)

Anything you say
Anything you say
I promise you can have it all
I promise you can have it all
I’m tiny, I’m so small
I’m amber coated in blue
I’m feeling heavy because the tar is so thick
I feel like I’m running out of whatever makes me tick
I’m coughing up my lungs because you make me so sick
I don’t want to be in love, I don’t want to feel like this
I want you in my arms, you’re all I think of
I saved all the skies for you to make you feel loved
How many more winters do I have to be ashamed of

You’re stuck in my brain and the clips rewind
The pieces and fragments of my crispy and broken, fragile spine
It’s all coming together, you were lying the whole time
But was giving all of myself to you a complete waste of time?

You’re stuck in my head, you’re daylight and amethyst
I don’t want to be in love, I don’t want to feel like this
What I imagined was you and me immersed in honeycomb bliss
I swear to God I thought you were the reason I exist

When you would drive so fast
You scared the life out of me, but I wanted it to last
I never felt safe, and I kind of loved that
In a way it comforted me, but that was in the past

When everything I would write would sound like a love song
When I knew you’d never call, but I’d stay up all night long
I wasn’t even waiting
4 a.m. and I’m pacing
Trying to be patient
You were who I placed faith in
Nothing was changing

I come real close to giving up
You’re all I think of
I bathe and soak in love
You’re all I think of

I bathe in and bleed out love
You’re all I think of

You’re all I think of

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Poem: Soft times

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Poem: Soft times

I threw a cigarette down on the ground while it was still lit and burned my foot
I thought about when we sat on the bench, and you held me tight by my livelihood
The frame of reference from me to you was always that you were misunderstood
But I never thought about it like that
I never thought about it like that
And I can’t tell whether I want you to come back
I can’t tell whether I want you to come back
The way I’d submit to you, I always felt so attacked
Wished you would pay attention to my words, wanted you to be keeping track
My nerves would pile up- going haywire, getting hijacked
I can say “I love you” then keep myself from getting sidetracked
I can’t seem to fall asleep without reminiscent, beautiful flashbacks

Soft times
Soft times

I think I make them up in my mind
I know for sure you’re leaving me behind
Think it’s good for me at the same time
I press play; you hit rewind

The vision’s always there
You – unaware
Me – trying not to stare
The sunshine’s oblivious glare

The vision’s always there
You, always unaware
Me – feeling so damn scared
Won’t speak up, wouldn’t dare

I can’t seem to fall asleep
You’re in my veins, you’re troubling me
You wouldn’t come sit with me by the crashing sea
Failure to disappear is choking me for eternity
I thought things would improve if I looked more pretty
I tried to speak quieter, say my sentiments softly
I still haven’t realized it has little to do with me

I wish I could erase
Your contemplative face
Your light tan shade of summer’s warmth
I’m taking all the pills
Never feeling thrills
Because the void is haunting me, haunting me still

I can’t change until
My body gets so ill
That I throw up any shadow that reminds me of you
I’m a small girl
I’m losing hope
If you were me, what would you do?

If you were me, what would you do?

You, always unaware
Me – feeling so damn scared
There’s nothing
There’s nothing
But empty space

This life has yet to swallow you

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