when love is born
is it conceived
on warm breath
of promised bliss
or in the womb of
desperate honesty
forbearing pride
exposing weakness
seed taking root
in bloody reality
gestated in truth
when love dies
is it murdered
or does it fade
malnourished
its frail hands
folded, no longer
holding to hope
reposed and cold
on stilled chest
that has ceased
to breathe romance
This synopsis of love's birth and death tugs at my heart. There is a lot of truth, tenderness and sadness in your words. You never cease to amaze me. I am grateful to have your poetic gift fill my life.
such elegance in your poignant lines, Belle. These short lines are power-packed and image rich. You speak of love as if it is a vulnerable embryo in the womb, a child unborn, emphasising its dependent and fragile status. This really impacts me. Yes indeed - it is by our own hands and our acts that such love is either nurtured or destroyed... and, whichever it is, a large part of us grows or goes with it. Your poems which have angels attached are always totally melting. Romance is the milky breast at which our hunger for love suckles for certain sure. xx
When love is pure it lives. When love is ego it dies.
Reviewed by Jerry Bolton (Reader)
Reviewed on November 11, 2009
Love dies when life becomes so burdensome and routine, and the bills keep coming, tempers are short and finally there is no passion left of that wonderful dream which was started together.
Yes, one is left speechless by the poem that tell us of the joy at love's birth and utterly sadness at love's death.
So strong emotions and so fragile feelings, like touching dust.
New love is like a cup full of the sweet nectar of romance.
With each argument, crisis, or drama, a bit is poured out until there is nothing left but emptiness.
love enters the heart magically and sets the soul soaring euphorically -- it is created by circumstances of the heart and imagination, coddled in the hands of human desires -- but does love die? -- or does the dedication to the cause erode with the familiarity of life's events, mundane moments? -- this poem gives cause to once again ponder the circumstances, the magic of love's birth, and perhaps its death -- peace and love my friend -- Jon Michael
Beautifully, poignantly penned ... emotional, anyway, with this being Veteran's Day ... tears running down my face at the power in these lines of love and loss.
This is a book of free verse poetry that addresses the seven main tests in life and offers some sensible solutions to passing those tests with minimal discomfort.
“The woman or man who is a poet, or fiction writer, or playwright, or all of these, is engaged constantly in a jazz ballet of vocabularies, passions, genders, histories, perspectives, death, love, and life. The music of revelation announces itself to
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TW
God bless you. Kathy
(((HUGS))) and much love, your friend in Tx., Karen Lynn. :( *tears!*
Thank you La Belle
You induce class and pizzzazz in your work!
Da Pizzaman
fee
Cheers,
Dan
So strong emotions and so fragile feelings, like touching dust.
Georg
With each argument, crisis, or drama, a bit is poured out until there is nothing left but emptiness.
~W~
Lisa
Beautifully, poignantly penned ... emotional, anyway, with this being Veteran's Day ... tears running down my face at the power in these lines of love and loss.
(((HUGS))) and love, Karla.