Sonnets About Love And Beauty


WOMENS’ GAMBLE


A lot of women take a big gamble,
living with someone they only just know.
It is for them a major judgement call.
They make an assessment, then say ‘let’s go.’


Love is often thought to play a big part.
In this case, comes with the role of adult.
A princess to be protected, the start.
With position as Queen, then to result.


But it is not always predictable,
with babies and families as idyll.
The sharing may not be reciprocal.
Whether they have a future, a riddle.


But, plunge in as though it’s a headlong dive.
Confident … , but who knows where will arrive.



LOVE SHOULD CONTINUE TO EXIST


We’ve gone this far. A little further please.
If I have to, I’ll get down on my knees
in the hope that you’ll accept all my pleas,
and let us be, ‘til we’re antiquities.


Surely too early to be extinguished.
As a couple, we seem quite distinguished.
Ending, would mean such a lot would be missed.
I think, Love should continue to exist.


But it is a cold wind like a portent
saying, force stronger than us, if intent,
could insist, to us, that is our extent,
and not brook my objection and dissent.


Logic explains at some point it will end,
but, I declare, it’s too soon to descend.



PICK A FIGHT


Can’t take my girl out for a drink at night.
Wherever she goes, she will pick a fight.
Won’t believe what is said. She’ll say “Yeh, Right”.
The arguing, from there, goes out of sight.


Can’t take my girl to a club for a dance.
Suddenly see her in a fighting stance.
Something said. Perhaps to me an advance.
Or to her, by someone taking a chance.


I’m thinking, can’t take my girl anywhere.
She’ll be in a row, and simply won’t care
Where we go, trouble just follows her there.
A fight then starts, whether or not it’s fair.


Back home, I expect her to fight with me,
but loving instead she does brilliantly.



STARTED AS A SONG. BECAME POIGNANT POEM


Looks like I have to put our Love on hold,
after she said “what we had has gone cold”.
‘It is almost dead right now, when all’s told’.
‘Turned to rust what I thought was, surely, gold’.


But I can wait. For now, our Love on hold.
This matter is not finally resolved.
Will still love her, if I may be so bold.
If get the chance, story, then, be re-told.


But, effect like Siberian winter.
Ice so solid, it won’t even splinter.
That is what I feel is here without her.
Show her the love, if that will convince her.


Kiss her, treat her right and, of course, hold her.
On hold, to heal, for two wounded soldiers.



LOVE POEM. UNEXAGGERATED


Ours is a Love unexaggerated.
It is not enclosed by romantic myth.
I suppose this uncorroborated.
Through all we’ve done and said, would have to sift


in order to disprove my assertion.
To find knightly acts of chivalrous love.
Or, in a loving stew, our immersion.
Some tenderness shown, if push comes to shove.


Taking away the overblown aspect,
we simply share each others affection.
And, of course, there is mutual respect.
Would pass a rigorous Love inspection.


But not with gestures over-inflated.
When say “Love”, it’s not exaggerated.



PASSING BEAUTY


She is magnificently beautiful.
A sighting of her would make any day.
Walking toward me. She’s exceptional
My wish right now’s for repeated replay.


Well … , in her, beauty has reached its zenith.
Could not be bettered, from what I’m seeing.
What I thought extent, revised, replenished.
More loveliness endowed on this being.


A change of head carriage, for her profile.
A bearing of unblemished quality.
At the closest, as we pass, we both smile.
I’d viewed her too intensely, probably.


The smile she gave, as if she read my mind,
acknowledged the compliment. Did not mind.



TO BEAUTY!


She is exceptionally beautiful.
Her appearance is like a walking dream.
That she’s lovely is irrefutable.
Looks, so superb, they cry out to be seen.


Clearly working model for perfection.
Can only hope the mould was not broken.
Ticks all the boxes, upon inspection.
Words to describe, not easily chosen


because, may not do her proper justice.
And no guarantee that will find, to match.
Dictionaries and best poets, enlist,
yet to describe her right, still may not catch.


Maybe, ‘heavenly’ as near as can get,
But not capture the heartstopping effect.



‘WEDDING’ SONNET


The Loving’s strong when the connection’s there,
with the delight of being together.
Joy in each other’s company to share.
Strength of feeling which could last forever.


It is a great cause for celebration,
the joining into partnership of two.
In its own way it is confirmation
of the love reaching out to you, and you.


May happiness be with you all your days,
with the knowledge of each other’s blessing.
That have found mutual love, cannot erase.
Stay so, even if later times testing.


This, now a bedrock for your existence.
Rewarding for both, with Love’s persistence.



SONG. UNDENIABLE


Undeniably, I’m in love with you.
Keep thinking about you. My heart feels it.
I am so taken up, it must be true.
What I want to say to you, reveals it.


I just hope this feeling is mutual.
That you desire me, like I desire you.
That reciprocal, not one way is all.
I’m sure it’s love, not just I admire you.


What a fantastic partnership we’d make.
Getting on so well, great to discover.
If we link up, it won’t be a mistake.
Tailor-made to be each other’s lover.


I think my assessment’s reliable,
and, my loving you’s undeniable.



POEM TO HER


The arousal. She’ll be there to greet me.
“Good morning” we will say in unison.
A distinction, albeit discretely,
to my mind, our being in union.


Come, contentment. She’ll be here to greet me.
A leisurely coffee at mid-morning.
Easy talk, personal, pertinently.
Histories, some from childhood, recalling.


Throughout the day, she’ll be there to greet me.
Eating, drinking, varied interactions.
Her presence. A squeeze she may permit me.
As things happen, gauging our reactions.


Poem to her. Finish it, completely.
Awakening. She’ll be there to greet me.



SHE LOVES HER LIFE


She loves her life with me. I don’t know why,
as I am a depressive, surely so.
A lot going for her, I won’t deny.
She catches happiness before it goes.


She clearly has knowledge of Blake’s poem,
to kiss the joy as it flies, and thereby,
live in eternity’s sunrise; glowing.
The dog, the cat, the Quakers, her and I.


I’m a beneficiary of her mood.
Her demeanour better suited than mine
to exploit what’s good around, and include;
so being better attuned to her time.


I wish I could contribute more myself,
but I am here, and she can be herself.



STRANGE LOVE POEM


The ghost in my machine wants to meet yours;
make sense of this super natural scene.
Your sentience, my sentience adore.
A beloved sensation; a waking dream.


I am aware I am conscious of you;
capable of perception and feeling.
My phantom’s fancy, interest in you.
The desires from within, then, revealing.


It is almost as if other-worldly,
the poltergeist passions which could emerge.
Exterior standard form that’s held me,
would hold you and yours, if allowed, the urge.


We are, in large part, this interior.
Ours come to life … and love. Be who we are.



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