Intensity of feelings can be sweet
Like honey, in a cup of ginger tea
But ginger by itself is hard to eat
And honey can be sweet hyperbole
So drink it slowly if you want the joy
Of something warm, fulfilling, and select
And share it with your lover, but employ
The wisdom you’ve been given, to protect
The joy of she-who’s-given-you-her-heart
She likes the sweetness of the tea you make
And trusts your judgment, even if it’s tart!
She’ll always drink it, for your passion’s sake
But if your tea or feelings are intense
You might as well commit some grave offense.
I’m still a sonnet, but I guess I’m new
I follow the same scheme, with different words
Perhaps I am a sequence, overdue
Perhaps I come in halves, or maybe thirds
Three quatrains make the sonnet I become
The past, the present, future, but there’s more
A final couplet that’s ignored by some
Like drunks that walk right past an easy whore
But love I want to make is more than rhyme
It’s more than just the rhythmic words I use
This second life is certainly sublime
I live within sonnettic lines I choose
I’m more than just some fucking, little song
But like my words need music, I belong.
This ecstasy of words is something new
I never knew the passion they could bring
When shared with someone who’s impassioned too
And loves to hear sonnettic words I sing
I guess iambic rhythm turns her on
Or else she feels my words are warm, like skin
But either way, the French would call it “bon’
“La petite mort” is started deep within
I need to make a lover of my friend
Our words compel our friendship to remain
Our words of love will never have an end
And wordless sounds will not be sung in vain
I want to make her scream in ecstacy
with passion that my lover feels for me.
It’s true; I want to make her feel complete
With words I choose for each sonnettic line
I like the supposition that she’s sweet
Compared to any white or noble wine
Her fermentation brings my passioned verse
I’m not quite drunk, but couplets fill my head
I want to drink her deeply and converse
With words that seem like grapes that should be bled
By pressing them beneath my naked weight
To turn them into passion’s fervent juice
I’ll make her come too soon or else too late
But only if she lets me let her loose
Her metaphoric grapes are hers to share
My poetry is more than just a dare.
The word “supine” entices me to write
Of how I want you, lying by my side
Romantically, I feel the word invite
My heart to let my feelings be my guide
I only want to choose the words you want
For comfort in your posture, and your mind
It’s more than just a rule I’d never flaunt!
It tops the list of all that I’ve defined
Regardless of the rules, I want your heart
It feels as if it beats in synch with mine
I’ll take it slow while we are still apart
But girl, I want you near me, and supine
It isn’t crass; it’s more than how I feel
With you it’s not a word, it’s something real.
Your laughter makes me horny, even though
You laugh because I’m such an easy mark
I’m hungry for your skin; I think you know
Your teasing lights emotions like a spark
Emotions from my hunger for your flesh
Escape from me as if I’ve lost control
I never knew your laughter could refresh
Emotions set ablaze within my soul!
I love it when you tell me: “bring it on!”
Although I’m miles away, you know I’m hot
Don’t think that you can tease until it’s gone
The shower may be cold, but girl, I’m not!
So laugh away! A few more days, you’ll see
Just what your sexy laughter does to me!
I threw my pig shit out and cleaned my life
One shovel at a time; it wasn’t fun
But now I feel relaxed, and free from strife
It hurt like hell, and smelled, but now it’s done!
I’ve got a brand-new start; it’s fresh and clean
I’m glad I found the catalyst to act
She’s more than just my muse. Well. what I mean
Is that we trust each other. That’s a fact!
She listens, and she hears it in my voice
I’m liberated by the shit I’ve tossed
I chose to clean my life; the cleanly choice
Is right, no matter what one thinks it cost
My liberation makes it all worthwhile
And yes, it brings me joy and makes me smile.
When life becomes a cold, persistent tide
That washes in and out by some blind force
I watch the water rise as if to hide
My thoughts that cling to all my feelings’ source
My heart becomes the safety of a pier
And though the tide may cover it in time
I stand and feel there’s little I should fear
Although my thoughts are drowned, they’re still sublime
The tide may be subliminal, indeed
And all my thoughts are barnacles that cling
To this, my heart, as if they have a need
To stay with me, whatever fate may bring
I want the sun to warm me, where I stand
The tide is cold, and not what I had planned.
I don’t know how I know, but I’ve no doubt
Your words are more familiar than my voice
My pleasant feelings permeate without
The source of knowing, maybe it’s a choice
Of course I want to choose the way I feel
I’d be a fool to give it up or quit
I’ll hold your heart because I know it’s real
Without your heart, my words devolve to shit
I know I like the way we talk at night
I know I like it more than I can say
When whispers in your ear will not seem trite
And night will not just be the end of day
I won’t allow my words to ever cease
My thoughts of you will always bring me peace.
You told me to be open and direct
I want you to be open with me too
Remember, this is not what I expect
But making love is what I want to do
I want to hold you softly, skin-to-skin
I want to kiss you so erotically
That you will want to feel me, deep within
And you will want to move in sync with me
I doubt you don’t know where to go from here
You’re not naive or ignorant, I know
I hope this sonnet makes it crystal clear
That I will follow, anywhere you go!
Just tell me that you haven’t felt me yet
And by those words, the expectation’s set!