I have been a bit of an artsy loser this summer with the women, but that has lead to reflection, and I am back on track to my best in the last 3 years here, with a poem on a theme varied from what I’ve done before, passion too. There is one poem ‘Reuniting with my Love’ but that is fictitious, this is drawn from my life, mostly here, in the East, where between two people, there is always something, if not desire, something enigmatic. Something we understand, that is special. Sending love to you all. I am over, the Baroque Romanesque Sky, and yes, getting shafted. Happens to the best, or the artsy losers, and we all get old, the world belongs to the young. But it’s too young for marriage, and there’s always time to write.
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It has been long since I knew love,
Passion, feeling, I understand still,
But not the sweat, and the turmoil,
And the scent of love, I am no expert,
At love, for the act of love is where I fail,
And lose, to any woman I love,
A failing I do not know, but in the past years,
Six or seven let’s say, there are a few,
Experiences in sweetness, and edge,
I stop understanding power in these times,
Few and far between that they are,
For my will, I forget, and become the kiss,
Expert, from brow to cheek, to lips,
But this I regret in my life, I have not
Kissed many lips, and some lips of those,
That I kissed, I wish, I had not kissed,
In hindsight, but yes, memories are memories,
And holding someone smaller in my arms,
That is easy, in the east, the orient,
for I am 100 kilos, and 5 foot 10 inch,
And know pleasure, and understand her,
But I wish now, for the escape, of a woman,
Another, I admire, and respect, but I do most,
And love, well, passion first, I am old and weary,
And if I’m not careful, passion will take me to marriage,
When in my heart I wait for someone, from close to home,
Who is far west, or maybe another, secretly,
Who I know, but doesn’t know, that in my heart,
I feel unrest, and the desire, for lips, and cheeks,
And hair, and to feel one, with a woman,
And give in, for that is me, and I do,
In writing, but I am careful, and wary,
Wedding bells are not in my plan,
My heart belongs to someone else,At least for a year.
