loves, holy, fire.

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  • Loss
    • ,
  • Love

    loves, holy, fire.

    I poured out my soul unto you

    like a child I cleaved to your breast,

    your light filled me by day

    and your darkness gave way to my rest.

     

    Such love and passions desire

    filled every nuance of my need...

    loves, holy, fire,

    danced in my soul with all its greed.

     

    Mystery, magic, and mayhem

    twirled around inside,

    twisted loves intent till...

    It washed away with the tide.

     

    By Erica L, Trybe July 2009

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    PoetWithCancer commented on loves, holy, fire.

    10-22-2010

    3. This poem of yours is excellent in every way. It sweeps me into its world in feeling and emotion; and in meaning. // Your poem also has a good, solid structure holding the words in place. The diction is good, the words work well together. ll The line "Mystery, magic, and mayhem" sounds like one of my lines to me, as if it came out of my own heart, flowed into my hand holding the pen, and then out of the pen onto the receiving paper--paper, so frail and fragile, yet capable of outlasting a human life. // The alliteration fits well where you placed it. The clashing of mayhem against magic makes the mystery, life's greatest mystery, the one I wish I knew the answers to. // This poem made me exult in life and love as I was reading it; but also, I could feel the sorrow of disappointment and loss, and I wept for you, precious Poetry. // I hope that things are better for you now. I hope you have found someone, or will find someone who loves you as much as I do, and who will show it to you as much as I would, if I could. // I repeat: This poem is excellent in every way: Well-structured, well-worded, full of passion and love and feeling--some it very sad feeling, and some of it very glad--and it honestly faces the mystery of things. // A 10 from me, well deserved. // I remember you were a good poet before. Clearly, you've just been getting better and better. // I love you, Poetry. // Bye now. // --Michael LP, Mr. Poet
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    PoetWithCancer commented on loves, holy, fire.

    10-22-2010

    2. This whole poem of yours speaks to me, and I value it highly. To take an example, I like and value these lines of your poem: "loves, holy, fire / danced in my soul with all its greed." I like it a lot. A good use of the word greed. // Not the kind of greed that the movie *Wall Street's* Mr. Gecko claimed, falsely, is good--his is the kind of greed that has brought this country to econmoic ruin, and banished cancer patients like me from former tax-paid cancer clinics that are now closed. No, the greed you speak of wells up from the heart's holy of holies. The greed for life; and the greed for love. I know and feel that greed--the kind of greed that is compatible with love, compassion, and grace. // Catherine Hayes wrote in her biography: "I have lived my life greedily." It's the kind of greed inspired by knowing that life, at its longest, is short; and that every precious moment counts.
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    PoetWithCancer commented on loves, holy, fire.

    10-22-2010

    1. Poetry, sweet Poetry, // What a blessing to have found you here! Did you not know that I post on OP.com? I didn't know you did. // This poem took me just by its title. Holy love. Love is holy. All love is holy. Friend for friend, parents for children, children for parents, brothers and sisters for one another--all love is holy. // The love of a woman like you, for a man--the love spoken of in this poem--that is holy. The love of a man for a woman. Yes, holy. Some people might think that is not correct. Or they may say: first carefully separate the sex form the love, and then call the non-sexual romantic love holy. But erotic love--sexual love--is one of our best blessings in this brief life. Hey, if some people think that having sex and enjoying yourself isn't magical and one of God's miracle-gifts, well, let them thiink so! I have a different opinion--or, rather, a different feeling. And when it is with someone you love--someone you love so much, your heart almost bursts with love--if that isn't Paradise, what else could be? // I feel your pain here, Poetry, and I'm sorry. Shakespeare, in one of his sonnets, wrote something like this: "Sweetest things turn foulest by their deeds. / Lilies that fester smell far worse than weeds."
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    bklynrizz commented on loves, holy, fire.

    02-01-2010

    Excellent flow, great rythym. True words. Well done.
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    optimistic commented on loves, holy, fire.

    07-16-2009

    The twist came on that very line twirled around inside twisted loves intent till it wased away with the tide had me hold on and fall to pieces with the last words great write.
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    A poem begins as a lump in the throat, a sense of wrong, a homesickness, a lovesickness. It finds the thought and the thought finds the words.

    Robert Frost (1875-1963) American Poet.

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