love you in the morning

Silently you wake and gaze upon me here.
you see me sleeping peacefully and long to hold me near.
you reach out your soft hand to gently touch my face.
Remembering short hours ago, we shared a lover's embrace.
i stir just then and spy your tender loving stare.
i place my hand over yours, stunned at the extent of your care.
our eyes never leave each other as you caress my skin.
you smile at me slightly as you move closer in.
i take you in my arms placing a kiss upon your cheek.
you turn your head slowly, my lips for you then seek.
A subtle moan escapes you as my hand explores you anew.
Passions kisses intensifie as our rhythmic dance ensues.
again i proclaim my tender love for you as i kiss your wanting neck.
you move your hands over me finally to rest upon my chest.
i Feel your velvet secret engulf me again and again my darling,
And i feel your building climax escaping from you then.
you arch your back,your breasts jutt out my eyes adoring their allure.
As we reach our perfect harmony, together again for more
melanie i love to love you more much much more....

I Want You so much.

I Want You you so much.

Want you,
want you, you, you,
Doesn't matter that you're not here,
I forgive all the silences.

I want you,
I don't care,
I know you'll soon be there,
I'm a willing captive,
Why fight?
There's no point.

I want you,
Need to hold you in my arms,
Need to smell your sweat, inhale your breath,
Need to be inside of you,
That's where i belong,
That's where i was meant to be.

I want you, bald,now immediatly,
I really don't care,
I just want you to be there.

I want to open your door,
Because I have my own key,
I want to come in,
Because you too, now want me.

I want you to need me,
I want to stare in your eyes,
I want your promises,
I don't care as you are there.

I want your body,
Warm in my bed,
I want you near me,
I want you so bad.

More Than Passion

More Than Passion

Silently she awakes and gazes upon him there.
She sees him sleeping peacefully and longs to hold him near.
She reaches out her trembling hand to gently touch his face.
Remembering short hours ago, sharing love's embrace.
He stirs just then and spies her tender. loving stare.
Then places his hand over hers, stunned at the extent of her care.
Their eyes never leave each other as she caresses his soft skin.
She smiles at him slightly as she moves closer to him.
He takes her in his arms placing a kiss upon her cheek.
She turns her head slowly, his lips for her to seek.
A subtle moan escapes her as his hand explores anew.
Passions kiss intensifies as their rhythmic dance ensues.
He proclaims his love for her as he kisses her wanting neck.
She moves her hands over him finally to rest upon his chest.
Feeling her velvet secret engulf him again and again,
And feels her building climax escaping from her then.
She arches back, catches his eyes adoring their allure.
As they reach their perfect harmony, together once more.

The Sweet Taste Of Love

The sweet taste of love
Still lingers in my mind
A succulent tasty morsel
A treasure worth its find

A wet and juicy fruit
That fills my mouth with joy
Like candy to a baby
An edible sexy toy

With nectar sweet as honey
A syrup of flowing silk
Like a bubbly kind of lava
As smooth as warm clear milk

It breathes with scented oils
Like a flower in the mist
And blossoms when caressed
By the feel of a lover's kiss

A dessert at its very best
When embraced with lots of love
I know I'll never get enough
Of this treat I'm thinking of

Your Laughter

Take bread away from me, if you wish,
take air away, but
do not take from me your laughter.

Do not take away the rose,
the lance flower that you pluck,
the water that suddenly
bursts forth in joy,
the sudden wave
of silver born in you.

My struggle is harsh and I come back
with eyes tired
at times from having seen
the unchanging earth,
but when your laughter enters
it rises to the sky seeking me
and it opens for me all
the doors of life.

My love, in the darkest
hour your laughter
opens, and if suddenly
you see my blood staining
the stones of the street,
laugh, because your laughter
will be for my hands
like a fresh sword.

Next to the sea in the autumn,
your laughter must raise
its foamy cascade,
and in the spring, love,
I want your laughter like
the flower I was waiting for,
the blue flower, the rose
of my echoing country.

Laugh at the night,
at the day, at the moon,
laugh at the twisted
streets of the island,
laugh at this clumsy
boy who loves you,
but when I open
my eyes and close them,
when my steps go,
when my steps return,
deny me bread, air,
light, spring,
but never your laughter
for I would die.

Pablo Neruda

Sonnet XVII

I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz,
or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off.
I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,
in secret, between the shadow and the soul.

I love you as the plant that never blooms
but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers;
thanks to your love a certain solid fragrance,
risen from the earth, lives darkly in my body.

I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where.
I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride;
so I love you because I know no other way

than this: where I does not exist, nor you,
so close that your hand on my chest is my hand,
so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep.

Pablo Neruda

Sonnet XI

I crave your mouth, your voice, your hair.
Silent and starving, I prowl through the streets.
Bread does not nourish me, dawn disrupts me, all day
I hunt for the liquid measure of your steps.

I hunger for your sleek laugh,
your hands the color of a savage harvest,
hunger for the pale stones of your fingernails,
I want to eat your skin like a whole almond.

I want to eat the sunbeam flaring in your lovely body,
the sovereign nose of your arrogant face,
I want to eat the fleeting shade of your lashes,

and I pace around hungry, sniffing the twilight,
hunting for you, for your hot heart,
like a puma in the barrens of Quitratue.

Pablo Neruda

Sonnet VIII

If your eyes were not the color of the moon,
of a day full [here, interrupted by the baby waking -- continued about 26
hours later ]
of a day full of clay, and work, and fire,
if even held-in you did not move in agile grace like the air,
if you were not an amber week,

not the yellow moment
when autumn climbs up through the vines;
if you were not that bread the fragrant moon
kneads, sprinkling its flour across the sky,

oh, my dearest, I could not love you so!
But when I hold you I hold everything that is --
sand, time, the tree of the rain,

everything is alive so that I can be alive:
without moving I can see it all:
in your life I see everything that lives.

Pablo Neruda

Sonnet LXXXI

And now you're mine. Rest with your dream in my dream.
Love and pain and work should all sleep, now.
The night turns on its invisible wheels,
and you are pure beside me as a sleeping amber.

No one else, Love, will sleep in my dreams. You will go,
we will go together, over the waters of time.
No one else will travel through the shadows with me,
only you, evergreen, ever sun, ever moon.

Your hands have already opened their delicate fists
and let their soft drifting signs drop away; your eyes closed like two gray
wings, and I move

after, following the folding water you carry, that carries
me away. The night, the world, the wind spin out their destiny.
Without you, I am your dream, only that, and that is all.

Pablo Neruda

I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love You

I do not love you except because I love you;
I go from loving to not loving you,
From waiting to not waiting for you
My heart moves from cold to fire.

I love you only because it's you the one I love;
I hate you deeply, and hating you
Bend to you, and the measure of my changing love for you
Is that I do not see you but love you blindly.

Maybe January light will consume
My heart with its cruel
Ray, stealing my key to true calm.

In this part of the story I am the one who
Dies, the only one, and I will die of love because I love you,
Because I love you, Love, in fire and blood.


Translated by ???

Submitted by Venus

Pablo Neruda

I Crave Your Mouth, Your Voice, Your Hair

DON'T GO FAR OFF, NOT EVEN FOR A DAY
Don't go far off, not even for a day, because --
because -- I don't know how to say it: a day is long
and I will be waiting for you, as in an empty station
when the trains are parked off somewhere else, asleep.

Don't leave me, even for an hour, because
then the little drops of anguish will all run together,
the smoke that roams looking for a home will drift
into me, choking my lost heart.

Oh, may your silhouette never dissolve on the beach;
may your eyelids never flutter into the empty distance.
Don't leave me for a second, my dearest,

because in that moment you'll have gone so far
I'll wander mazily over all the earth, asking,
Will you come back? Will you leave me here, dying?

Pablo Neruda




DON'T GO FAR OFF, NOT EVEN FOR A DAY
Don't go far off, not even for a day, because --
because -- I don't know how to say it: a day is long
and I will be waiting for you, as in an empty station
when the trains are parked off somewhere else, asleep.

Don't leave me, even for an hour, because
then the little drops of anguish will all run together,
the smoke that roams looking for a home will drift
into me, choking my lost heart.

Oh, may your silhouette never dissolve on the beach;
may your eyelids never flutter into the empty distance.
Don't leave me for a second, my dearest,

because in that moment you'll have gone so far
I'll wander mazily over all the earth, asking,
Will you come back? Will you leave me here, dying?

Pablo Neruda

A POET TO HIS BELOVED

A POET TO HIS BELOVED


BRING you with reverent hands
The books of my numberless dreams,
White woman that passion has worn
As the tide wears the dove-grey sands,
And with heart more old than the horn
That is brimmed from the pale fire of time:
White woman with numberless dreams,
I bring you my passionate rhyme.

MEN IMPROVE WITH THE YEARS,

MEN IMPROVE WITH THE Years,

AM worn out with dreams;
A weather-worn, marble triton
Among the streams;
And all day long I look
Upon this lady's beauty
As though I had found in a book
A pictured beauty,
Pleased to have filled the eyes
Or the discerning ears,
Delighted to be but wise,
For men improve with the years;
And yet, and yet,
Is this my dream, or the truth?
O would that we had met
When I had my burning youth!
But I grow old among dreams,
A weather-worn, marble triton
Among the streams.

gaspoetry welcome