T Nation

Everyone's Favorite Love Poems?

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

Roses are red
Violets are blue
Come give me head
Then I’ll fuck you

[center]-Poems for men.

[quote]pookie wrote:
Roses are red
Violets are blue
Come give me head
Then I’ll fuck you

[center]-Poems for men.[/center][/quote]

I knew there would be one of “you” eventually. I just didn’t think you’d find the thread so fast…

[quote]GhostNtheSystem wrote:
I knew there would be one of “you” eventually. I just didn’t think you’d find the thread so fast…[/quote]

And it was so well hidden, right there at the top of the list.

[To-do: insert “shit floats” joke here.]

Anyway, do you want some poems, or do you only want us to read those you deem worthy? Are you some kind of poem-nazi?

“No rhymes for you! Come back, one year!”

Sometimes we fit together like the creamy
speckled three-section body of the banana, that
joke fruit, as sex was a joke when we were kids,
and sometimes it is like a jagged blue comb of glass across my skin,
and sometimes you have me bent over as thick paper can be
folded, on the rug in the center of the room
far from the soft bed, my knuckles,
pressed against the grit in the grain of the rug?s
braiding where they
laid the rags tight and sewed them together,
my ass in the air like a lily with a wound on it
and I feel you going down into me as
if my own tongue is your cock sticking
out of my mouth like a stamen, the making and
breaking of the world at the same moment,
and sometimes it is sweet as the children we had
thought were dead being brought to the shore in the
narrow boats, boatload after boatload.
Always I am stunned to remember it,
as if I have been to Saturn or the bottom of a trench in the sea floor, I
sit on my bed the next day with my mouth open and think of it.
~Sharon Olds