My girl

There she is.
My sweet heart,
My dear sweet, blissful seducer of my heart.

I am vanquished.
& I have hardly begun.
I love her.
& once again I hold the thought behind these sealed lips.

I held her today.
I held her dear and close and felt her beating heart.
& she smiled.
& she teased me something rotten & I laughed.

Her warm soothing laugh floated through the air.
Her eyes entrap me. I cannot break away.
But I write no poems of joy.
Just the truth of a broken man.

She touched me with her innocence.
& led me through the garden of want.
I have but kissed her a thousand times
& torn my heart out in self control.

There she is my stolen love.
My sweet, sweet fragrant rose, my dream.
My dear sweet, blissful smiling seducer of my heart.

– ed simkins © 2016

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Perfection.

These stupid smiles of man are brought about my love.
Or fancy.
Or joyous rebirth.
Or the dreams of futility which reach around her naked skin.

She smiles.
Oh god she smiles & I bow upon the floor of hope to her & pray.
Pray that days will never end & moments shared in bliss will forever stay.
I seek her.
I love her.

The fool has tripped and plunged deep into hopeless desire of whimsy and earnest want.
He cries in smiles.
Cries in jest upon the mirror which speaks of loss and future death.
Of endings.

But in present circumstance & desperate passion, this red lust for her burns & flames.
Behind this eyes she is naked and close and speaking in the words of love.
She pleases me. Her eyes entrap and I am her hers.
Completely.

A story has begin which ends but yet in gloom & sorrow.
But yet today will light the world in glee and bliss and sought wonder.
She teases me.
She smiles and I die.

This angel stands before and dreams caress her perfect pale skin.
I am lost to the beauty of her face.
Those happy lips.
I am trapped.
& I love her.

– The fool © 2016

What is love?

Love is the abject dereliction of my sanity.
Of intelligence and wit and knowledge born of thought.
And sacrificed to the beauty of a smile!
& not even of that one which comes before in impassioned light
No! Not even that!
But that which arrives like a gleaming horse through majestic night
And brings forth news of joy through conversation held with…
With HER.
& I smile.

For love is but a quiet insanity of the mind!
Love is knowing all is stupid and worthless and fate will kill
But the heart goes on.
For it is trapped.
Inspired
But trapped.
For in the beauty of another one’s mind will soar a thousand dreams!
& dance upon a thousand more!
& hearts will flutter and skip and shake without repose
Upon the minutest little hope!
A word, a thought, the briefest deed.
And sunk without a trace in the moments passed

That is love.

An illness.
A mindless torture of the soul
A giddy run through naked fields knowing that in any moment the world will end
& send you down to hell again.

& so she takes your very soul
& watches you giggle like a fool.
For love.

& I am smitten

By this thing called love.

~ entrapped by love
© ed simkins

Travel Fights The Burning Heart

If love were real then dreams would flow,
And silent tears alone would know,
That smoke & hate are haggard’s thoughts,
From rounded women that money bought.
I’d turn to see my golden child,
My pretty girl with pretty smile.
Imagination keeps her there,
In pleasant place where all men stare.
Adventure calls to far off lands,
With dainty girls & youthful hands,
Orange sun & crazy laughs,
Midnight feasts & camping drafts,
I’ll freeze to death in roadside grass,
Unknown to secret lovers past.
I dream of one who love admires,
The girl who lights my yearning fire,
& there she is; naked, toned,
Fantasies, orgasmic moans,
Whose playful whim, which sparkles so,
& teasing actions that makes things grow.
But plane arrives in Amsterdam,
This girl I leave, her biggest fan,
For if I believed in marriage told,
I’d live with her til I was old,
We’d travel much & love much more,
We’d see the Alps & Pacific shore,
Each bridge we’d cross, I’d stop her still,
& kiss her lips & smile in thrill.
Travel becomes a girl so young,
Like music set to sensual song,
We’d sway in June & sleep in May,
Caress her body each gentle day,
Her warmth in soul it radiates,
& fills my heart with love that aches.
& as I plan & flight will take,
Alone I leave, though not forsake,
That precious dream who resides in me,
How I’d travel with her if love could be.
For call me mad, or call me fool,
God lets me dream, though he is cruel,
I wish to love that naked spark,
& leave this love within her heart.
So let me settle with maiden dear,
& I‘d travel not with distant fear.

~ Happy Travel coming, but I dream so much of HER.
© Ed Simkins