A Poet’s Love

A woman is such a magical creature

She is a mother, a warrior, a muse

She can be the altar where a man worships

She can be a cliff by the ocean, where men gather ready to dive into its cooling waters.

She is the harbor where spherical curly mists are washed away

Commanded by the enigmatic and powerful moon

She is the dessert, full of chaotic, rugged yet powerful mountains

A fortress for those who don’t know the way to her heart.

My heart and soul are under the spell of an enigmatic woman

She is a winter night with icy winds blowing towards the warm of a new aurora

She is the magical sword left standing on the battleground of an old worn-out sun

Telling tales of times full wonder and magic

Where the fates gathered to watch over humanity.

She is the soft voice of an old hymn reminding me of times long gone

Her incantations awaken my spirit and set my blood on fire

Her eyes see beyond the walls I have set

With one touch she can turn this meek man into a poet

Words flowing through me as water from a waterfall.

A woman is a perpetual paradox

A timeless road without direction nor destination

Where countless poets have happily died

Seeking but failing at their quest to be loved by such creatures

A woman can be a desert island where honey flows

Oh, how I wish I could taste my muse’s honey

I wish to have her burn and melt by my touch

Writing new quartets together after tasting each other’s pleasure

And to ecstasy we have succumbed!

I have fallen captive to her ways

Only she has the remedy for what ails my soul

This poet once was a lost sailor,

Drunk on anger and regret.

I now write verses that from within scratch my being

Daring to be let out, demanding to express unexplored parts of my soul

Seeking to be heard by the one who has enchanted me

Wanting her to sink deep to my desires

Irresistible woman like dawn you are to me

I wish to be bathed in your light

You are my muse and goddess of heaven

A dove delicate and sweet

A wild Arabian mare, untamable and pure

At night your memory haunts me

My dreams you command

It is there I can see your nakedness

And where I can make you mine.

With hunger I devour your breasts

My fingers exploring your every field

Hearing you moan as I recite verses of love

Promising to always be yours if you so desire

Forever faithful, ready to go wherever you may wish

Muse here is your loving poet

A simple man would use his smile as his verses

He would seek to command your body and tame your spirit

While I seek to simply be by your side

Writing verses inspired by your being

Undressing you with my songs.

A poet is but a pale suicidal bird brought to life by its muse

A poet is one who chose to fall from its delusional flight of normalcy

His soul has faced the abyss and succumbed in its hell

His mind has been elevated by the pulses of life

He can feel and taste life’s whirlwinds

The chaos, the power, the sweet and erotic waters of life

Where since the beginning of time, knights and poets have been forged.

The poet has no sword by which to fight

A poet’s ink is but his blood used to tattoo on other’s hearts

He brings forth his nostalgia letting life speak through him

He speaks of sins and forgiveness,

He speaks of justice and mercy,

He speaks of love and loss,

He speaks of laughter and tears

A poet seeks to heal through the expression of his love

He seeks not to be saved but lives for the golden elixir

The holy drink found only within the womb of life,

Only his beloved can take him nearer

Only through her he can be satisfied

What else would I like from you my beloved?

But to appease the pain of my misfortunes

I wish to lay on the fraternal bed of your body

I want to exhaust myself with your kisses, your moans, your lust.

I want to wake up next to you and be pampered by your kisses

And see your eyes water as I gently sing you lullabies

Hoping you can see yourself through my eyes

Everyday I wake up and my bed still empty

I am reminded you are not here

yet no one else will take your place.

This is the sad poem of a sailor turned poet

A man that was lost yet has been found

My story doesn’t tell of sailors and their exploits

Nor of mermaids or sea monsters

Nor of Romeos between the legs of Juliets

Nor of tormented bitter souls…

This is the impossible yet heroic story of a poet’s love for woman

This myth which flows through time “A poet and the unattainable woman”

The man who died long ago yet his soul was brought to life

For she is more than an average woman and goddess

Her soul tormented like mine

She is a warrior with a gypsy soul

She is a mother

She is my lover

She is my muse!

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By Sofia Falcone

I passionately believe one person can make a difference. I write from my own experiences and interests. It is my greatest hope that by writing about my own challenges, victories, hopes and learnings, others may feel inspired to believe more in their inner power and to fully embrace themselves!

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