Open Poetry #12 |
The Meaning Of Love |
Lone Wolf Member Ascendant
since 2000-03-16
Posts 5842Lansing, MI USA |
One day long ago There was a young girl Who used to wonder What love felt like To experience such emotion Was beyond her comprehension Until she had almost Given up on finding it That was the day She met a young boy Who made her eyes sparkle And her heart beat In a way she had never known Was humanly possible How did he make her feel Things she never felt before? One look into his eyes Left her feeling faint Her face was flushed A deep shade of red On her pale cheeks From meeting his gaze As he passed her By the roadside She prayed each night If she were lucky enough To meet up with him again For the courage To say hello at least Just the thought stirred her From the inside out In ways she never imagined Then on a warm spring day She was sitting beside the lake Lost in the water’s reflection Not paying attention To her surroundings For she was lost in thought With visions of the boy Who’d captured her heart Suddenly the world Went black before her Someone was behind her Covering her eyes Whispering softly in her ear She felt the warmth Of their breath on her neck The voice said “guess who” She had no clue Who it could be She said in a meek voice Half filled with hope “The boy from the roadside?” His reply was “yes, ‘tis me” She could hardly believe It was really him there She pulled his hands away Turning around to face him Their eyes locked A moment before Their lips met It seemed to last For a lifetime Taking her breath away Nothing existed Outside of the two Of them Sitting there together Beside the cool water Talking Kissing And laughing She no longer Wonders about love Today She learned The true meaning Of the word Lying there In his arms Poetry should surprise by fine excess...it should strike the reader as a wording of his own highest thoughts and appear almost a remembrance. -J.Keats |
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© Copyright 2001 Jennifer L. Garcia - All Rights Reserved | |||
Temptress
Moderator
Member Rara Avis
since 1999-06-15
Posts 7136Mobile, AL |
Ohh..This is wonderful. Excellent writing, Lady. |
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JLR Senior Member
since 2001-02-04
Posts 1785 |
New love, wonderful poetry...what more have we a right to? |
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SEA
Moderator
Member Seraphic
since 2000-01-18
Posts 22676with you |
pure romance............*sigh* love this! SEA |
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Sven
since 1999-11-23
Posts 14937East Lansing, MI USA |
sometimes. . . we have to go a lifetime before we learn this. . . excellent poem. . . ------------------------------------------------------- To the world, you may only be one person. But to one person, you may be the world. |
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Honeybee Member Ascendant
since 1999-12-26
Posts 5372Ontario, CANADA |
*sighs* oh, this is so beautiful!~ Perhaps someday soon, I'll know the meaning of love too~ Take care, Melissa~ [This message has been edited by Melissa Honeybee (edited 03-15-2001).] |
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Irish Rose Member Patricius
since 2000-04-06
Posts 10263 |
This is absolutely beautiful! Kathleen Blake "When red-haired girls scamper like roses over the rain-green grass, and the sun drips honey." Laurie Lee |
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DreamLess Member
since 2001-02-28
Posts 92 |
you really have expressed the girl's feeling very well .. your words have put me in her place for moments... not many can do that.. I was very pleased to read this piece , thanx very much. WRITTEN BY ME..(17 YRS HIGHSCHOOL GIRL) EASY ON ME.. I'M JUST AN AMATEUR |
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Lone Wolf Member Ascendant
since 2000-03-16
Posts 5842Lansing, MI USA |
Temptress . . . Thank you much. I'm glad you enjoyed. JLR . . . Stick around and find out!! SEA . . . Thank you!! Yes, the romantic in me is coming out finally I think! Sven . . . Some of us are lucky and learn early. The secret is to keep it once you have it. Thanks. Melissa . . . I am sure that you will know very soon. Everyone gets their day. Thank you! Kathleen . . . Thank you sweetheart! DreamLess . . . I take you words as a high compliment. It is always wonderful as a writer to take the reader along with you on your journey. I am happy you enjoyed it. Poetry should surprise by fine excess...it should strike the reader as a wording of his own highest thoughts and appear almost a remembrance. -J.Keats |
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