Romantic Poetry - Tumblr Posts
If you prefer calmness and quiet,
I will hold my breath.
Es war, als hätt' der Himmel
Die Erde still geküsst,
Dass sie im Blütenschimmer
Von ihm nun träumen müsst'.
Die Luft ging durch die Felder,
Die Ähren wogten sacht,
Es rauschten leis' die Wälder,
So sternklar war die Nacht.
Und meine Seele spannte
Weit ihre Flügel aus,
Flog durch die stillen Lande,
Als flöge sie nach Haus.
- "Mondnacht", von Joseph von Eichendorff (1837)
As I Struggle to Find the Words
I wish I had all the right words, the one-in-a-million words, to string together in the right way to shape the right sentences.
The words to describe the light catching in your eyes, how vivid and bright and beautiful they glow, but "chartreuse" and "pear" don't fit the hue.
The right letters in the right combinations to capture the beauty in that single lock of hair falling to the side you don't mean for it to.
Nothing feels right.
"Beautiful" isn't even the best word to fit you, the U's not quite hugging the curve of your lips, the B not fit exactly to your tall frame.
If not that, though, what other words do I use?
Is there a way to write down the way that I see you so that someone who doesn't know you can see what I do?
Is there a way for you to see what I do?
The warmth in the lines that curve on your cheeks when you laugh strong and deep, the sense of security that your arms wrapped around me provide - what should I say so that you can picture what my eyes see?
Nothing has seemed to get it right before, no single word, no phrase, no paragraph, but losing hope isn't the option I want.
What art form will capture you in the best light, what medium will pick up the details I admire the most?
Is there a definitive answer to my questions?
I have the heart of a painter and a poet, but these things escape me so easily.
No metaphors can truly hold the strength of your will nor the gentleness of your touch to someone in need.
No poem I shall ever write could convey how much you mean to me, and the thought of it drives me mad.
You tell me there are others like yourself, but I've still yet to find them.
Yes, there are others with your musical talents, your athleticism, your beliefs in faith and in people, but none have them in the same combination that you do.
I could imagine no one else with the power to make my heart swell and my hands shake with a single glance.
No one else whose voice could calm my tears and steady my breathing in moments of utter panic and fear.
No one else whose singing could hold my heart so tight that my head feels light and my chest full.
You are not perfection, but even in such, you are worth more than any poems written of your beauty or the images that attempt to capture everything about you.
Not even "love" is accurate enough to depict what I feel for you.
This emotion that floods through my veins, to the tips of my fingers and ears, feels almost too unreal to name at all, but still I try to explain it all.
A single word cannot describe any of this, but it is the best way I know how to communicate it, and so I must try.
I tell you that you are beautiful, and I say to myself that I love you.
It is all I know how to say.
— Handwritten manuscript of ‘Ode to a Nightingale’ by John Keats (x)
It aches when I miss him. Sometimes it aches for a day, sometimes for weeks, sometimes it hurts consistently for a month, but I relish the pain, I feel it. It means I haven't forgotten yet.
A woman wants a man who's in control, not a man who is controlling. Know the difference.
Ve her şey susar insan ölürken bir bir daha nice yalnızlıklar yeşerecek mevsimlerde bu kentin ağlak mutsuzluğu ne ki daha nice sevgiler nice ayrılıklar boy verecek kargaşaların içinde bu şehrin ıssızlığı ne ki..
Bir evim olsun isterdim bir dağın başında bir ıssız adada yada hiç kimsenin olmadığı apayrı bir dünyada..
Ben çiçek sever bir dilsizdim ve size çiçeklerimi verdim ama siz bağrı bahçemi kuruttunuz..
Ne tuhaf aynı gökyüzüne bakıyor ve aynı havayı soluyoruz iki ayrı şehirde ama hiçbir şey bizden yana değil işte..
Ben sahip olduğum her şeyin farkındaydım ama' sahip olduklarımı bilen herkes parça parça söküp gitti yüreğimden..
Bir fincan kahve ve bir kaç kitap yeterlidir bazen unutulması gereken bütün yorucu hislere..
So very beautiful- thanks
My hands will always reach for you when you feel your fingers slipping away. ____
A spoken word collaboration with my dearest friend @wordsbyjenpoetry . Click on image to hear our souls speak.
(Background music by Michael Vignola)
Eloquent
A true gentleman is a keen linguist, eager to learn the vocabulary, dialect and even the colloquialism of a woman’s body language.
(Music by Jjos)
If I'm to die young, let it be with my lover. 🌹
"Verdant"
The color of arms that parted for us
as you chased me through the greenery.
The color of grass beneath our feet
that left no trail for others to follow.
The color of ivy hiding the door
to our secret world no one else knew.
The color of water lilies and the pond
where you and I once bathed together.
The color of your eyes as you spun me around,
not wasting a precious second.
The color of her face if she saw
where our lips and fingers met.
The color of the sky and the world around us
as you found your peace inside me.
Our love was verdant.
-Reverie
"Fragrance"
When we were in the meadow,
you said I smelled like your favorite wildflower.
Summer wine drunk,
the picnic blanket laid out beneath us.
When we were in the kitchen,
you said I smelled like your favorite pie.
Flour on my nose,
apples ready to be sliced.
When we were in the back barn,
you said I smelled like your favorite summer day.
Sweetgrass and sunshine,
thunder rolling in the distance.
When I asked “what is your favorite fragrance?”,
you replied “it is making love to you.”
-Reverie
"Berries"
She held red berries in front of her,
but his brushstrokes were painting her two bare pink ones.
She popped the ripest red into her mouth.
He watched as her lips became gently stained.
She remarked, “I don’t think I’ve tasted anything so sweet.”
He replied, “I know of one sweeter.”
[Eyes locking thoughtfully]
She breathed, “Would you like to taste?”
He answered, “It would give me great pleasure.”
The berries and painting were soon left forgotten.
-Reverie
Grace
With grace I held you in my arms and watched you fall asleep.
With grace I intertwined our fingers, clasped like gates to a keep.
With grace I kissed your scars, banishing your shadows with my rays.
With grace I lingered close even though you never asked of me to stay.
With grace I bloomed before you, sprouting wings so balletic and free.
With grace I accept despite your wings, you will choose to not fly with me.
-Reverie
"Endless"
The warmth of summer makes fools of us all.
We think its golden rays, twinkling at us through branches, will continue.
We think its heated kiss will linger on our skin, indefinite.
We think late evenings filled with fireflies and the clinking of glasses will keep us young eternally.
But it’s not until the first breath of a cool morning,
the first drop of a withered leaf,
the first dawn that is slower to appear,
that we realize summer is not endless.
Just like a lover’s embrace,
it ends.
But it leaves us with a memory to cherish forever.
-Reverie