What make us to feel love? What's love?
Longing? Wanting? Begging? Wishing?
They said that a kiss is not just a kiss...
Pretentious love that think it can reach you,
Siren that swims on an astral sea and far beyond
the tender mortal fingers wanting feverish to touch
and feel something different that solitude’s cold,
enchantress that whispered in ears full of silence
and captivated a passing traveler with your song.
Surrounded by caressing waves, languorous mood,
like a gossamer mirage, a nude most benign ghost,
your lips had the promising mischievous smiles that
even Ulysses could have offer to the reef his boat,
but I couldn’t move to take you in my waiting arms,
Sirens will never fall in love with a old wrinkled oak.
Pretentious love from a tree that will be here forever,
hearing in quiet summer nights your calling voice,
I will weep every morning with sadness drops of dew
because you will never be coming near of my shore,
you are a delicate butterfly made of traveling water
and magical seas don’t grow oak trees, not anymore.
Dear Georg, Your poem describes very well the nature, but what you are saying does not always apply. Some oak trees are still growing. Life is a wonderful creation in any condition as the time of life is limited. Love Emile
Oh brother Edvard, you write with such beauty in your heart of love,knowing the many ways people can fool us,and lovers can become foes leaving us with sad memories to haunt us...Superb poem, Georg!
HOW THIS WORK DOES 'PULL' ON ONE'S HEARTSTRINGS...THE SUFFERINGS OF UNREQUITED LOVE...IS REAL AND PAINFUL. THIS IS A DYNAMIC, EMOTIONAL WORK, DONE ABSOLUTELY WELL! YOUR PHRASES AND IMAGERY SUPPORTS YOUR THEME SOLIDLY. THANK YOU FOR SHARING, GEORG AND GOD BLESS.
JOYCE * HIS INSPIRATIONS
I will weep every morning with sadness drops of dew
because you will never be coming near of my shore,
you are a delicate butterfly made of traveling water
and magical seas don’t grow oak trees, not anymore.
Sadly, this is a most common theme in this world/life, Georg. I find your words most appropriate. Thank you. Love and peace,
you are a delicate butterfly made of traveling water
and magical seas don’t grow oak trees, not anymore
Aye! ...but Georg, what comes around goes around, and one day the oak will disintegrate into dust, and in the Siren of a Spring breeze you will fly aside her! Butteroak, as two adhere...and man, your poem has me going! What a work of art, I could draw from this, and not just with a pencil...Here! Here!
Love and Peace~
Kimmy~
Georg this is one of your finest, as an old sailor and an old romantic I have heard the whisper of your siren over the seas as well and it is most alluring. Great job my friend
fee
Reviewed by Peter Schlosser (Reader)
Reviewed on November 12, 2009
Planted and rooted like a tree. Desperately overhanging the shore of a magical sea, where love floats and flutters. We may reach but never touch. For I am just a tree, and love has wings which float on thermals over drifing and callous waters. Great writing Georg. Superb!
My momma used to say, "Money dosen't grow on trees." I would always come back with, "Yeah, but what about Pecans, Peaches, yadda-yadda."
That was usually when I got slapped. Sooooooo If love doesn't grow on trees anymore......I guess we have to pay money for it? If money can't buy love or happiness, then I'm just looking to rent.
The utter beauty of this tender expression gives wanting to carve pledging initials in the oak tree
And then bathe in the waves of this love you express, truly captivating poetry Georg.
Then there is the wanting of the oak that places a penetrating hole in the heart with sorrowing. Deeply felt…Beautiful Offering of Love...
Peace, Love & Inspiration
Vickie
EXCELLENT!!!!!!!!!! 'I will weep every morning with sadness drops of dew because you will never be coming near of my shore'.... HEAVENLY BEAUTIFUL!!!!!!!!!!!!!! GEORG MATEOS!!!!!!!!!!!!!! YOU ARE MOST TALENTED POET IN THIS WORLD!!!!!!!!!!!!!! MAY GOD LOVE YOU AS MUCH I LOVE YOUR BEAUTIFUL POETRY!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Liana Margiva
"Old wrinkled oak" my eye! You've the heart and soul of a poet-hero of ages past. What siren worth her salt would pass you by? An excellent write. Rebecca
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Cynthia
JOYCE * HIS INSPIRATIONS
because you will never be coming near of my shore,
you are a delicate butterfly made of traveling water
and magical seas don’t grow oak trees, not anymore.
Sadly, this is a most common theme in this world/life, Georg. I find your words most appropriate. Thank you. Love and peace,
Regis
and magical seas don’t grow oak trees, not anymore
Aye! ...but Georg, what comes around goes around, and one day the oak will disintegrate into dust, and in the Siren of a Spring breeze you will fly aside her! Butteroak, as two adhere...and man, your poem has me going! What a work of art, I could draw from this, and not just with a pencil...Here! Here!
Love and Peace~
Kimmy~
This is perfect heart standing ashore as the colors of wings blend softly with the colors of the wind. Stunning, soft and tender.
Blessings!
Susan
fee
That was usually when I got slapped. Sooooooo If love doesn't grow on trees anymore......I guess we have to pay money for it? If money can't buy love or happiness, then I'm just looking to rent.
Walt
And I second Karen's comment (below): Happy belated Veteran's Day/birthday, Marine. Don't look a day over 234. LOL! (You KNOW I love you.) =]
(((HUGS))), Karla.
And then bathe in the waves of this love you express, truly captivating poetry Georg.
Then there is the wanting of the oak that places a penetrating hole in the heart with sorrowing. Deeply felt…Beautiful Offering of Love...
Peace, Love & Inspiration
Vickie
(((HUGS))) and much love, your friend in America, Karen Lynn in Texas. :D
OOH-rah! Happy belated Veteran's Day, MARINE!! :D