Category: romance

The Day Before You Came, Poetry by Martina Moriarty McCarthy

I have always lived in the moment
never worried about the future
never questioned the past

‘You’
have turned a page in the book-of-life.

Soliloquy

Applause

Genre: Life, People, Romance

The Day Before You Came by Martina Moriarty McCarthy

I have always lived in the moment
never worried about the future
never questioned the past

‘You’
have turned a page in the book-of-life.

Soliloquy

Applause

I have excavated your existence from a concrete floor in the
out-house of my mind wearing a stained dress
of Golden thread, with one desire to bring you home.

My acid fears and burning tears spilled on Naked ground,
my shattered heart still beating Blood as I drilled without a sound
the cracks they came a creaking as I was on my knees,
I felt the earth beneath me t’was then I heard you breathe.

With eyes as bright as spot-lights to search the living Dead!
I dug my fingers deep into this Room inside my head
Frantic was my tool of choice its all I have to offer
you are worth your ‘wait’ in gold like I know…No Other.

I saw your hand reach out to me I Grabbed it with my mouth-
my lips a grip… a Mothers ‘tale’ the gate-way past the hounds.
Not a word was spoken,
no praise or criticize
a mission just to clarify your unseen ultra-sound?

I looked at you this morning,
you studied me in quest
that begged the question who are you?
and why you quietly left
I’v never liked my shadow
for I was only two… when you escaped…but no one sees I found myself in you.

My words to you this new born day, are for eyes-and-ears alone
No matter what your purpose is your blessed that you were born.
I made my bed this evening, and lie in it I shall
no covers here but fearless needs, in the birth of life’s canal.

 

 

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Is It Love?, Poetry by Fatima Begum

Am I in love? Or am I in love with love?

Is such a question necessary, when someone is in love? When it is me, I, myself, that is in love? The writer? Or would one call me a poet?

Unless, poetry demands me to fall in love, just so that I can write about love?
But, wait, dear sir, dear madam, what is love?

Genre: Philosophical and Romance

Is It Love? by Fatima Begum

Am I in love? Or am I in love with love?

Is such a question necessary, when someone is in love? When it is me, I, myself, that is in love? The writer? Or would one call me a poet?

Unless, poetry demands me to fall in love, just so that I can write about love?
But, wait, dear sir, dear madam, what is love?

A feeling? A tingly sensation? Happiness, followed by lack of sleep?
Waiting for him to arrive? To hear his voice, for his call? For his sweet touch, his finger to slide across your bare shoulders? For his eyes, that gaze, which holds such intensity? His smiles? Smiles reserved for only your eyes?

Or is it all a weakness? One word, and every limb in your body is alert. One touch, and your body shivers with excitement. Or, is it from fear? One look, and you feel your knees buckle. You’re just slightly dizzy, your excuse to others. Slightly flustered, you mumble whilst fanning yourself with your hand. But the smile. One smile, and your heart pounds against your ribs. Surely your ribs will explode? You can’t stop questioning. Can you? Is this just an excuse?

Truly, what is love?

Defeat? Who truly has control of your emotions? Is it not him? A word from him can make you smile. Yet, a word from him, can make you shed a tear. A word from him can make you hold your stomach with laughter. Yet, a word from him, can make you rage with anger. But, it is you who control your emotions, right?

Manipulation? He knows how you feel. He knows how you feel about him. But do you, yourself, know how you feel? How you feel about him? He asks you to commit a task. For him only, he states clearly. Your love permits it, he adds. Such smooth silky voice. You are against it. Truth be told, morals dictate that you must not carry out such a task. But it is love. Is love not worth it? Should one not do something, anything, everything for love? It has clouded your judgement. Although, is that not what love is?

But, then, you open your eyes. Are you in love? Were you in love? And, who was he that convinced you of love? A stranger you perhaps bumped into? A brief acquaintance from the past, an acquaintance who decided to taunt you in your dreams after years of complete silence.

No. You’ve never experienced it, so how can you know what love is? If you do not know what love is, how do you know if it is love?

So, am I in love, if I have no idea what love is? Or, am I another hopeless case, who has fallen in love with love itself. Do I want to fall in love and have him swipe me off my feet? Or do I want to fight it, so that only I, myself, can hold onto and control my emotions?

I’ve heard that one’s emotion is a powerful tool. So who should stay in power? Me or him? Or me and him?

By Fatima Begum

I ask again, is it love, for I do not know what love is?

 

 

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Stranger In Love…., Poetry by Poetess Chantelle Cherie

Late night on the I can’t sleep train… It just keeps going Nowhere Fast and Time Is not of essence unfortunately. The only thing I can think is Write a Write of Feeling that stows upon me this evening. And so with Her Magical Pen and this in heart she began ~

Genre: Love, Romance, Loneliness

Stranger In Love….

Late night on the I can’t sleep train…  It just keeps going Nowhere Fast and Time Is not of essence unfortunately. The only thing I can think is Write a Write of Feeling that stows upon me this evening. And so with Her Magical Pen and this in heart she began ~

Stranger things have Happened I must Say. It must lead to something greater than the unknown I pray it leads me straight to You and You to Me anticipation it has killed me before I feel it’s different this time though….. Beautiful?! One might ask: My Reply is only this to you, Beyond Beautiful He is  indeed but of this you would only know if my eyes were yours for a moment in this time to see just as I see He. Stranger things as said have happened indeed. Scared? Yes!!!! Terrified if I must add, Not of One Another But of Each Self and what we both harbor. “What If” we just gave up He on I and I on He “What if” I don’t want that to be Our Goodbye; We Just Began this journey him and I  “What if” Is not in Our Stars so why  are we Fighting A War Within  knowing The outcome of Our own self Battle Neither one of us has yet to win. I give you this very day the key to my domain my Sacred Place Very few have ever been allowed in please remember they don’t make duplicates be cautious yet gentle what your holding Is beyond repair if ever broken or filled with despair. One last thing I must write on the lines of your Soul, so if ever apart you may hear them whisper upon every beat of your heart: Not by Accident……Coincidence Agreed! Only Angels hear the tears of pain we cry the ones that fall from our eyes and flood our souls beyond our control… Perhaps we pained simultaneously that day for we may never know how our story was told only how it’s supposed to read: You ~ Me ~ Our beautiful destiny.

Copyrighted 2016

Written by: Poetess Chantelle Cherie
Keep Calm
Write On

 

 

 

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Ghost of my love, Poetry Mandar Naik

Last night I saw ghost of my love

It stood in the window, looking above.

It looked pale, tired and in despair,

As if it had just arrived from a crowded fair.

Genre: Rhyme, Romance, Love

Ghost of my love
by Mandar Naik

Last night I saw ghost of my love

It stood in the window, looking above.

It looked pale, tired and in despair,

As if it had just arrived from a crowded fair.

I was scared to see its darkest eyes,

Still hoping to give it one more rise.

Its deep buried smell of past,

Made me feel disturbed and aghast.

It pleaded me for a single sight,

to remember those days, tears and fight.

That endless waiting, those arms and songs to sing

Those rains, those touches, don’t you remember anything?

I said I have buried what all has gone

Those dreams withered, leaving me alone.

On the grounds of dried tears, I have sown phony smiles,

Guarding them from looming reminiscences reverting from long miles.

When you were alive, I had lived too merrily

Each day was bliss and slept dreamily.

Never knew you will leave me midway,

In the dark caves of sorrows without any ray.

I have managed to come over those mystic chants,

Which led me again & again into vicious rants.

It was a long way & it is foregone

Now I do not wish to remember & bemoan.

 

You go again into the deepest of my heart,

Never to revert again, never again to mar.

Never again scare me, never again rise.

I have given everything I had now to become empty & wise.

The Ghost looked at me proudly with a beaming smile,

Embracing my wet heart, waning in a while.

Said it, it will never ever reoccur from the depths

And sleep a long dream with eyes wept.

It disappeared from the window, I stood for a while.

Paying homage to my dead love & memories of time.

Then came down the rain to wet my mind

It washed away my past, sowing seeds of hope behind.

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Knock on the Door, Poetry by Pamela Cotter

Knock on the door

Not going to answer it this time

It’s a tap in my life

Help to make the days go by

Genre: Rhyme, Relationship, People

Knock on the Door
by Pamela Cotter

Knock on the door

Not going to answer it this time

It’s a tap in my life

Help to make the days go by

It comes on again

Like a winter storm holding my hand

Its hot like a knife

But would cut you deep inside

You walk away

But the pull closes you in

You need to stay behind.. the curtains again…

It’s a knock the door

It s a knock from the past

You walk away and sigh..

Not this time..not ever this way

Then, with a rush.. a sensation combs your veins

It climbs inside your blood and washes through

It whispers yess. U need it again

It whispers yess.. put on that black..again

Knock on the floor

Your souls meet face to face

It doesn’t disappoint, you history plays again

This time its going to last

As you climb your next hill

This time it will be

As if u never said… I do.

 

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Nothing Wilts, Poetry by Caiubi Maranho

Nothing wilts The proof of
damage The meeting of our
will The meaning The almost
taste It is our most prized
possession Where do we live
our dreams This is where the

Genre: Romance

Nothing Wilts
by Caiubi Maranho

Nothing wilts The proof of
damage The meeting of our
will The meaning The almost
taste It is our most prized
possession Where do we live
our dreams This is where the
completed And are The
distracted eyes looking in silence
we confirm be clean
Then be sad Then be eternal
For one day tear surrender
The voice in unissom design
” I love you” Just then leaves
flourish Monsoon wait certainties
wasted Honesties the road
Until his call Prosperity
renewing See the two
in the future Together Treasure
that old souls keep to be
reborn every day
For a two day be a
At the age of heaven
And honor the big night
And generation after generation
Waiting to hope
A love that makes sense

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A Four-Letter Word, Poetry by Caro Ness

Love is just a four-letter word
Like long, or like, or wish, or hope,
Yet, though it may seem quite absurd,
It encircles the heart with silken rope,
And makes each day seem bright and new,
With myriad wonderful things to do.

Genre: Romance, Relationship, Humor

A Four-Letter Word

by Caro Ness

Love is just a four-letter word
Like long, or like, or wish, or hope,
Yet, though it may seem quite absurd,
It encircles the heart with silken rope,
And makes each day seem bright and new,
With myriad wonderful things to do.
No hill too steep, no road too far,
To be precisely where YOU are!
You, the lover, you the muse,
You the beautiful dancing shoes
That sashay into the mind, the brain,
And linger, like a sweet refrain,
That needs discovering again and again….



Love is just a four letter word,
Like sing, or grin, or feel or hold,
Yet it’s the icing on the cake,
The greatest story ever told.
It’s the fizz in a fine champagne,
It’s the huff and puff of an old steam train
The breeze breathing gently on your face
The intricacies of a piece of lace,
It’s euphoria, it’s a dream
It’s the cherry on top of a large ice cream,
It’s a name you can’t ignore
If I’m the apple, your its core,
It’s a megatastic superstore.
Love is just a four-letter word,
But oh, it is so much MORE.

 

 

 

 

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Sweet and Fragrant Nirvana, Poetry by Nalini Priyadarshni

You call me jaggery lips
though you have never sucked on
golden blob of sweetness
and have no idea about its taste
only a vague memory of
something you had sampled in Mexico
made of sugarcane juice
Sweet and fragrant!

Category – Romantic 
 
Sweet and Fragrant Nirvana
by Nalini Priyadarshni 
You call me jaggery lips
though you have never sucked on
golden blob of sweetness
and have no idea about its taste
only a vague memory of
something you had sampled in Mexico
made of sugarcane juice
Sweet and fragrant!
Maybe you have forgotten gulkand
in your post dinner paan with silver foil
after a long day of sightseeing
in the heat and dust of Benaras
that started at Ghats and culminated
at the silk shop where sitting midst
thousands of pieces of fine silk
you picked golden Ganesha on black
my favorite god whose figurines I collect
A coincidence you would say
 of course, like countless others.
Sipping ice cold water under the droning fan
browsing through vibrant silk pieces
each more beautiful than the previous
with no intention to buy any, after the
oppressive heat of the day you had spent wandering
the streets of the ancient city with your juvenile guide
you picked my favorite god to take back home
India you did not pack in your backpack
 lodged itself beneath your nails
flowered as a trident on your palm
to unfold in the folds of your skin
in the twilight of ‘beaver state’
Thronging with love, gurgling chaos
it nestles in the crevices of your soles
You now return to me in myriad pieces
I stow away at the back of my lingerie drawer
run my finger along their edges listening to Beatles
try to put them together in sultry afternoons
let lusty mangoes seduce me into thinking
we can find a way to turn the clock around
and find nirvana in slurping their nectar
Author info- Nalini Priyadarshni is a poet, writer, editor and amateur photographer. Her work has appeared at various international magazines and lit journals including Up the Staircase Weekly, eFiction India, Mad Swirl, Crescent Magazine, The Riveter Review, Writes & Lovers Café, The Gambler, Camel Saloon, Earl of Plaid, CUIB-NEST-NIDO, and The Open Road Review, Phoenix Photo and Fiction, Undertow Tanka besides numerous anthologies including Resonance, I Am Woman, Awakening of She, Art of Being Human etc. She lives in Ludhiana, India with her husband and two feisty kids. Her first solo poetry collection Doppelgänger In My House is expected in 2016.

 

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RAGING BATTLES, Poetry by Saloni Verma

A young girl walks bare feet,
Amongst the gunpowder and debris,
She looks at the bloody bodies, now covered,
She mourns deeply for her beloved.

Genre: Rhyme, Romance, Love

RAGING BATTLES
by Saloni Verma

A young girl walks bare feet,
Amongst the gunpowder and debris,
She looks at the bloody bodies, now covered,
She mourns deeply for her beloved.

The world was such an empty place before,
Then came her prince-on-the-white-horse to the fore,
They shared a bond that could last forevermore
The world wasn’t so empty anymore.

He was a soldier of the state,
Serving the country was his fate,
He loved his girl and his nation,
He was his country’s true citizen.

They walked the lush gardens hand-in-hand,
They scoured for shells in the golden sand,
They ran gleefully in the rain,
They were not aware of the upcoming pain.

One day, he got called for his duty,
He was called to serve at the front;
They were taught to show no pity,
The enemy had to face the brunt.

The girl was left alone to ponder,
The state of her lover she often wondered;
She passed her days lying in wait,
She couldn’t leave everything in the hands of fate.

She heard the radio day and night,
Heard the horrific results of the fight;
They often recounted the names of the dead,
With worry did her forehead always sweat.

He called one day, “How are you, my love?”
“Lying in your wait”, she only sobbed.
He told her of his friends’ death,
She only said that she was sitting with awaited breath.

He recounted the booms of the guns, the missiles, the bodies,
He told her how they had to live as a quarry;
He said he was proud to fight,
He said he was content he was right.
Though the barrels made him shiver,
He had always the strength-filled quiver.

She longed to see him day & night,
She heard from them one twilight,
He had been martyred by the enemy’s cannon,
“He was our bravest soldier”, said the Captain.

Her heart burst with paramount grief,
Battles raged in her heart as on the streets;
“How ironical”, she thought grimly of her loss,
That it should come at a time after their country had won.

She walked then between the gunpowder and debris,
She now only felt the thorns of the roses, on her feet;
Come and see the blood in the streets, her heart cried
Come and see the blood in the streets!
Come and see the
blood in the streets!!

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so here is mine, Poetry by Ghada 20

You are the love

you are the fate

you are the soul and

its mate

Genre: Romance, Love, Relationship

so here is mine
by Ghada 20

You are the love

you are the fate

you are the soul and

its mate

you are a dream

and debate

you are the morning song

and relief

you are me… my very

special case.

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