.
Scenes of passion in literature, on the stage, and on the silver screen, have captivated audiences for years. How about spicing up some poetry with a soupçon of sauciness and savagery (tastefully done, of course). Choose a scene of fevered passion from a favorite novel, play, or film, bring it to life in a poem and post it in the comments below. I had huge fun composing this poem. I look forward to reading yours.
.
Green-Eyed
“O, beware, my lord, of jealousy: It is the green-eyed monster
which doth mock the meat it feeds on.” —Shakespeare’s Othello
By candlelight he crept with thudding blood
To take his white-hot harlot by surprise—
That slut who’d rutted with her hungry stud
Had sucked the sun from dark, Venetian skies.
How devilishly delicate she looked,
Sprawled beneath the sear of fever’s glare.
Her silken-rosebud wonder had him hooked
Forever in a sorceress’s snare.
He burned for sweet release—that luscious rush
Of peace to ease his scorching ache and swell.
He shuddered as she gasped before the hush…
He stole her breath and damned his soul to Hell.
The fiend beneath his skin had tortured trust
Then laced his racing heart with viperous lust.
.
.
“Well before the light—Hold me again with all of your might—In the still of the night.” Lyrics to the Song, “In the Still of the Night,” as sung by the 5 Satins, (1956).
IN THE STILL OF THE NIGHT
By Roy E. Peterson (August 17, 2023)
In the still of the night, when passion comes,
Our hearts are beating like two kettle drums.
Passionate love is made after foreplay.
All our bed covers are in disarray.
Our naked bodies moving together
Exploring secret regions of nether.
If I hear some sighs, it is my reward.
I may join with sighs of my own accord.
I bury my face in her perfumed hair.
Breath upon breath sucking down the night air.
Timing’s important, when I’m in control
With syncopation of my searing soul.
Rapturous responses as echoes we throw,
We revel at last in the afterglow.
Wow, Roy!! I am overwhelmed with your passionate response to the challenge… I thought I was a fast composer of poetry, but I think you’ve most certainly outdone me here! Thank you for your burning enthusiasm.
Susan, I just saw your earlier note. I am hesitant to reveal my output, but the most poems I have written in one day is between 15 and 18 poems, as I best remember. If you refer back to the Russian/Ukraine War invitation to post in February 2022, you will find by my count 8 poems on February 26, with several verses in each in response to comments. Then if you go to my July 4, 2023 poem, “To All Great Eagles up on High,” I wrote several poems in a short space of time as answering comments. Today (August 21) I will post 3 more I wrote on August 20. Please forgive the output, but there are so few places to provide passionate poetry. I am almost done. I had not intended to write some of the spicier ones, but your initial poem opened my mind a little.
Her passion for cooking was legendary; their
Memories of cakes, pies, stews and casseroles
Made it difficult, placed them in a quandary,
Couldn’t choose a favourite . Always making,
They remembered with fondness her baking,
Laughed when they said it wasn’t hereditary.
She was always in the kitchen magically
Creating delicious scents that would waft
To awaken hunger pangs as they slept.
How surprised they were to find her yesterday
Living off tins of soup, sardines and prunes
Obsessed with cleaning and with tidying up;
How much she gives away, except what’s in
The brown box that she keeps by her bed,
Of outgrown clothes, that she takes out to fold
And unfold, the blue, pink and gingham babygrows;
Then when she’s done , she shuffles back
To the yellow kitchen to polish the faded stove.
Mia, you have captured both passion and pain in this heart-touching piece. I am intrigued by it and wonder at the inspiration behind it. Thank you for rising once again to my challenge.
Dear Susan thank you so much for your very kind comment. The inspiration was to get as far away as possible from my earlier poem! So I know I didn’t follow the brief exactly, with both attempts, but I know you are all great on this site and allow us to do our own thing. This one is based on memories of grandmothers, mothers and women who dedicate their lives to family. Thank you again , as far as poetry is concerned I have been inspired to try harder.
Mia, the mere mention of grandmothers stirs feelings of passion in my soul… I will feel eternally passionate about the wonder of my grandmother and what she gave me as a child and as a grown woman. As a new grandmother, I am hoping I conjure the same passion in my lovely granddaughter as my grandmother still does in me.
The poem also serves as a lovely contrast to your first poem… the women of the world are made up of many different souls and you have managed to capture the good and the bad… a perfect balance. Thank you!
Dear Susan, Congratulations,
I think you will be the best grandma
and one who is a poet as well
Shakespeare is All Performance
These acts mistrust his verse as true or clear.
The lines they use have flattened sharper points,
the poignant thrust, the kiss upon the ear,
the cry “Oh, God!” that swells from throat and joints.
Spirit wastes itself in shame, and lust,
he knew — that bloody, cruel, and perjured thing —
no sooner having had its end can trust
itself to hate itself. That bait will bring
you bliss — a moment, briefer than a dream —
then beckons demons, feasting on your heart.
Extreme in wanting, having’s less extreme
than woe it brings when bodies push apart.
Yet Hell’s mislabeled in the modern text.
In Heaven souls are passionate and sexed.
Thank you for sweeping me up in the art of the performance. I too have been a captive audience to staged passion – emotions manipulated by twist of tongue and sleight of hand… that’s the wry wonder of drama… and the pitfall of trusting the interpretation. I’ve thoroughly enjoyed this thought-provoking, well-wrought sonnet.
From Molly Bloom’s interior monologue in James Joyce’s “Ulysses” —
…yes when I put the rose in my hair like the Andalusian girls used or shall I wear a red yes and how he kissed me under the Moorish wall and I thought well as well him as another and then I asked him with my eyes to ask again yes and then he asked me would I yes to say yes my mountain flower and first I put my arms around him yes and drew him down to me so he could feel my breasts all perfume yes and his heart was going like mad and yes I said yes I will Yes.
A POSTSCRIPT
Blazes Boylan surely knew
That Molly, with her clothes askew,
Had learned a lot from lovers past
In a sex life rich and fast.
He came late to stroke her hips
And smear the color from her lips.
Rather, as a seasoned vet,
Who’d been well schooled in how to pet,
Molly knew the whole routine
From foreplay to the Vaseline.
Yet sometimes she recalled the day
When she and Bloom together lay
Nearby Gibraltar’s rockbound road
With Bloom in full erectile mode.
She figured “Now the naughty bits,”
And pulled Bloom downwards to her tits.
The kisses, perfume, and her blush
All gave him an erotic rush,
And that’s the lucky day you bless —
When girls give in and tell you “Yes.”
Joseph S. Salemi
Joe, deliciously risqué – a postscript that highlights the well-practiced passions of Molly Bloom in “naughty bits” that have set the comments section of my challenge page ablaze. Thank you!
“The gods will always smile on brave women. Like the Valkyries, those furies who men fear and desire.” — The Seer, Vikings TV Series. “Unforgiven.” 2014.
VALKYRIE PRINCESS LIKE A GHOST
By Roy E. Peterson
Daughter of the Viking raiders
And the Normandy invaders
Golden red your tumbling tresses
While the breeze your locks caresses,
Thrill me with your warm embrace
While I gaze upon your face.
Well-endowed by nature’s wishes,
Porcelain skin like eggshell dishes,
Flashing eyes of emerald hue,
Intelligence is shining through.
Grant me audience your grace
While I kneel upon this place.
Born along the Ulster coast
Valkyrie princess like a ghost
Who chooses men for their death rattle
Or survive to win the battle.
Hear me as I plead my case:
All my enemies erase.
I pledge my fealty to you
In everything I see or do.
With this Claddagh ring I give,
Promise me that you will live
With me in my castle space
And share with me my fireplace.
here’s one that fits this challenge, that I wrote for the wife on her 60th birthday in the “we need a sonnet” format:
We need a sonnet about your breasts
and how they mimic the old poem
in one being a quarter inch
more perfect than the other.
We need a sonnet about the smooth soft
sweep down across your belly to your crotch
and then around and back
eighteen times again.
We need a sonnet about your inner thighs
as fine as if they’d been drawn
from a fantasy in a
Margaret Atwood novel.
We need a couplet about getting up;
It’s you I want, not coffee in a cup.
Very passionate indeed, Fred! I like your style… and I must say, this poem is much more in keeping with the challenge. Thank you for sharing it.
“I’m thinking today of friends that I used to know Who lived and suffered in this world below They’re gone off to heaven, but I want to know What are they doing there now?- Raymond Rowell, Songwriter. As sung on the Gaither TV weekly program. Title: “What are They Doing in Heaven.”
WHAT ARE YOU DOING IN HEAVEN TODAY
By Roy E. Peterson
What are you doing in heaven today?
Down here on earth it is cloudy and gray.
Remember the passion that we once shared?
There was no other with whom you compared.
I bet your weather is sunny and bright.
Are you my star that I see in the night?
Have you ambrosia fit for the King?
Have you joined the angel choir to sing?
I know your family and friends are there,
At least the good ones for whom you so care.
I hope you’re having a really great day.
I hope you hear me at night when I pray.
Look down on me with love and affection.
Soon I’ll be headed in your direction.
“Always!” – A frequent saying meaning, “I love you,” on the TV Series, “Castle.” The characters, Castle and Beckett, often say this.
ALWAYS
By Roy E. Peterson
I watch reruns of “Castle,”
___on some of my days.
They have a code for “love you.”
___That word is “Always!”
Several years ago,
___my loved one and I agreed,
That we would use “Always,”
___to satisfy our need.
We believe no one has caught on
___throughout the years.
We often use the code
___to calm our social fears.
Our families and friends
___don’t know our love affair.
Our secret remains safe
___in the postings that we share.
I have written poems
___like “Always Means Forever.”
That is my love for her
___no one can discover.
Poet Note: The poem I mentioned in the end is in one of my poetry books by the same title, “Always Means Forever.”
“Young love, first love, filled with deep emotion.” – Sonny James singing, “Young Love.” (1956).
IN YOUNGER DAYS
By Roy E. Peterson
In younger days all car seats were a bench.
As we sat side by side , I learned to French.
Petting like monkeys we saw at the zoo,
That’s when I felt my first passion for you.
I loved researching things I had to know.
We soon forgot the drive-in picture show.
Half of the cars there looked empty inside.
We could lay down on my Naugahyde.
Desert night air with golden moon above
Put us in the mood for our puppy love.
My first course in female anatomy
Went far beyond my youthful fantasy.
We were passionate for she was endowed.
Thank goodness the speakers were turned up loud.
(Benjamin) “For God’s sake, Mrs. Robinson. Here we are. You got me into your house. You give me a drink. You… put on music. Now, you start opening up your personal life to me and tell me your husband won’t be home for hours.” (Mrs. Robinson) “So?” – Movie, “The Graduate” (1967)
I REALLY CANNOT REMEMBER
By Roy E. Peterson
The voice heard on my phone was a lady neighbor.
She asked me if I would mind a little labor.
The lady asked me to fix something or other.
I would tell you what but I cannot remember.
She came to the door in something quite revealing.
She was a young beauty and really appealing.
I tell you now, I was innocent as could be.
How was I to know the score? She just wanted me.
I asked where it was, as I followed her perfume.
Smilingly she led me then into her bedroom.
What is a man to do when a lady disrobes?
There I was in heaven staring at glist’ning globes.
For the first time I learned ladies have passion, too.
I hope I fixed the problem. What else could I do?
“ How sweet the moonlight sleeps upon this bank Here we will sit, and let the sounds of music Creep in our ears; soft stillness, and the night Become the touches of sweet harmony.” ― William Shakespeare, The Merchant of Venice.
THE SWEETEST SONG FROM HEAVEN
By Roy E. Peterson
The sweetest song from heaven
Is your whispers in my ear.
It is less song, than a soft sigh
That thrills me when you’re near.
No earthly composer ever wrought
Such heav’nly harmony,
As we move in rhythm
To a mystical melody.
“The Night walked down the sky with the moon in her hand;
By the light of that yellow lantern I saw you stand.”
– Frederic Lawrence Knowles, “A Memory.” (Poem)
TAKE ME TO THE MOON AGAIN
By Roy E. Peterson
Listening to the radio
Playing some romantic tune;
Setting off the fireworks
You took me to the moon.
Though you come from Venus
And you say I come from Mars,
Take me to the moon again
And lead me to the stars.
The time has come for loving
On a sultry summer night.
Take me to the moon again
And help me fly my kite.
“I’ve been looking for you since I heard my first fairytale.” – Anonymous Quote.
I HAVE BEEN SEARCHING FOR YOU
By Roy E. Peterson
You could be my Cinderella
I danced with at the ball.
I’ve been looking for you,
Since you first fled the hall.
You could be in waiting
Like the poisoned princess Snow White.
I want to be prince Charming
To waken you from your long night.
You could be Sleeping Beauty,
Who for a hundred years was missed.
You would come back to life
When your lips I kissed.
You are the perfect beauty
I saw in my dream portrayal.
I have been searching for you,
Since I heard my first fairytale.
“But the echoes of our shared pleasure stole the words, and so I said it the best I could. ‘I love you.’” – Ilona Andrews, Book, “Wildfire,” Hidden Legacy Series, #3.
WHO SHALL STRUM THE SILENT LYRE
By Roy E. Peterson
Tell me who shall strum the silent lyre.
Please tell me who shall pluck the pretty rose.
Wouldst thou lie with me beside the fire?
Wouldst thine soft arms embrace me in repose?
For songs of love lie dormant in my chest,
As though ‘twere waiting for love’s melody.
Roses wish as I, clinging to thy breast
In sweet solitary melancholy.
The hour has come now for thy decision
As to what kind of love thou wist from me.
No word needed to foretell thy mission,
Just touch my hand and kiss me tenderly.
We’ll let echoes of love we make tonight
Reverberate until the morning light.
“A dream is a wish your heart makes when you’re fast asleep.” Song from the Movie, “Cinderella.” (1960)
IF THOU ART A DREAM
By Roy E. Peterson
If thou art a dream, please don’t let me wake.
Let me slumber on in the misty deep,
Out beyond the stars in eternal sleep,
Where e’er you will be as sweet love we make.
Such fervent love that in my bosom burns
Is fed by thy beauty hovering near;
That with my rapturous heart doth appear;
And through the mists my surging soul discerns.
Only love fulfills age old anguished need.
The soothing care a lover will impart
Removes the troubles from the human heart
Like as the tares from gardens we must weed.
Dream on my soul how paradise must be.
In slumber let me only think of thee.
Roy, thank you so very much for your enthusiasm with this challenge… you are obviously a very passionate poet who knows the meaning of love drawn from a beautiful and inspirational source. Thanks again.
Witnessing Organ Harvesting in China, 1994
(a triolet)
He looked at me. He was alive.
I staggered. They clamped out his eyes.
We’d shuffled when his body arrived.
He looked at me. He was alive.
They cut into him with their knives
And onto me small red hands fly.
He looked at me. He was alive.
I staggered. They clamped out his eyes.
A true story: https://www.theepochtimes.com/china/he-was-alive-tormented-chinese-doctor-recounts-harvesting-organs-in-back-of-van-5455507
Evan, this chilling triolet paints a gut-twisting, heart-wrenching poetic picture of a macabre murder… cold and calculated and evil as it gets. The words are haunting and powerful. Thank you for drawing attention to barbarism swept under the carpet by those profiting from such horrors.
Evan, Dr. Zheng Zhi witnessed the absolutely barbaric nature of the CCP totalitarian state and a practice that must occur on virtually a daily basis. They are uncivilized in the midst of their self-adoration and material gains. This reverts back to cannibalism, human sacrifice, beheading, and egregious torture. Words cannot convey my dismay.
Pardon me, but a girl (now a lady) from my hometown, many years ago, told me on social media she loved me. That started a string of more love poems which I decided to share on this wonderfully opened opportunity. I believe they are fitting for this Passion Challenge.
1. “How many roads must a man walk down before he’s called a man?” ~ Song with lyrics by Bob Dylan.
HOW MANY?
By Roy E. Peterson
How many roads must I travel in vain?
How many dreams must I dream to come true?
How many feats of grand legerdemain?
How many ways can I say I love you?
How many times have I yearned for one glance?
How many nights have I wished on a star?
How many days have I searched for romance?
How many songs have I played on guitar?
Each of these deeds are more than a thousand.
The years without you have taken their toll.
Misty eyes dim my sight at the brow’s end,
Yet hope beats eternal deep in my soul.
Love is worth all the travails I have known.
Put thou that quote of mine on my gravestone.
2. “Our love is a secret. Our love is a word. Something so silenced, yet perfectly heard.” ~ Unknown. (On social media as a quote. See: Search Quote.)
LOVE SECRETLY SAVED IN MY SOUL
By Roy E. Peterson
My love for you is secretly
Saved within my soul
Like water that lies buried
Beneath a sandy shoal.
Hope giving, life transforming,
Perfect portraiture of art.
Fire flickering brightly
In the shadows of my heart.
Each time I think about you
Adds another log to burn.
I do my best to hide it
Lest others might discern.
Therein lies the paradox
To hide and still extol.
Secret love is difficult
For my heart to control.
3. “The eyes are the window to the soul…To thee I do commend my watchful soul, Ere I let fall the windows of mine eyes.” ~ William Shakespeare, “King Richard III” Act V, Sc.3, Line 117.
‘CAUSE I SEE IT IN YOUR EYES
By Roy E. Peterson
There are things that I can’t fathom;
Miracles I can’t describe.
I believe we’ll live in heaven
Where you’ll always be my bride.
This blue marble has a treasure.
This blue marble has a prize.
There is something I can’t measure;
That’s the love within your eyes.
All my life I searched for someone
Who would never tell me lies.
I don’t need to wait for heaven,
‘Cause I see it in your eyes.
4. “ Forever my darling our love will be true
Always and forever I’ll love just you.
Just promise me darling your love in return.
May this fire in my soul dear forever burn.”
~ Song lyrics and music, “Pledging My Love,” written and sung by Johnny Ace.
A PLEDGE OF EVERLASTING LOVE
By Roy E. Peterson
I hope that you will read this
On the grass beneath a tree.
A pledge of everlasting love
That I wrote just for thee.
The blades of grass may hear it,
If you read to them out loud.
The world need never know
That my love to thee I vowed.
A pledge is more than promise.
It is giving of my heart
Scintillating sensations
That my love soul can impart.
Feel my longing fingers
As they linger on your face;
The warmth of blissful bodies
In an emotional embrace.
A kiss that lasts forever,
I commit it to thy lips;
Everlasting euphoria
In an erogenous eclipse.
Dream with me of Paradise
Where souls forever live.
Though we are yet mere mortals,
This pledge of love I give.
5. “All I have to do is dream, dream, dream, dream…” ~ Boudleaux Bryant, Writer of Lyrics and Music. “All I Have to Do is Dream,” as sung by the Everly Brothers. Song.
EVERY HEART GETS LONELY
By Roy E. Peterson
Every heart gets lonely
Every now and then.
Retreating in their minds
To memories of when
Love was new and innocent.
The world seemed so wide.
Little things meant everything
To the beating heart inside.
We once were attentive
To every word and glance
Wondering if we might go out
And find a sweet romance.
We checked our hair and brushed our teeth
Before going out at night
Wondering if our clothes were straight ,
And everything looked right.
Oh, for those days with fondness
Held in our memory
Looking to the future
And wondering what may be.
In high school and in college,
Then in our first jobs
We remember clearly those
Who were our heart throbs.
We winnowed down the field
To the one we thought was best.
We can’t help but wonder
What became of all the rest.
Did we make the right choice?
It seemed the best back then.
Would it be the same one
If we could choose again?
Things that were important
To us when we were young
Are stars with different twinkles now
Than when they first were hung.
Life is like a looking glass
Reflecting what we’ve seen.
Sometimes we can relive it
In a pleasant dream.
6. “…Lily Wellstone had the face of an angel, the body of a goddess, and the spirit of the devil glinting from her eyes. She was a woman worth losing his soul for.” ~ Carolyn Jewel, “Not Wicked Enough.” Book.
YOU WILL ALWAYS BE MY GODDESS
By Roy E. Peterson
You are my Cleopatra.
You are my Juliet.
You are my Bathsheba
That I cannot forget.
You beat the Mona Lisa,
Marie Antoinette divine.
Prettier than all the maidens
Time has left behind.
You’re my Helen of Troy,
Who launched a thousand ships.
I hope some day you launch me
With one kiss of your lips.
You will always be my goddess.
I’ll call you Aphrodite.
You are the Queen of Beauty,
And I dream of you nightly.
7. “Only do what your heart tells you.” ~ Princess Diana. Quote.
WHAT THE HEART PROPOSES
By Roy E. Peterson
What the heart proposes
Can just be found in dreams.
The mind becomes alarmed
At the heartfelt schemes.
How dare you think about it?
The mind often screams.
Yet nothing is impossible
With the heart it seems.
If you can dream about it,
You can make of it a goal.
Desire becomes the motivator
Of your secret soul.
The mind must swing to action
And let the heart extoll
The virtues of the enterprise,
Since each must play their roll.
It happened just that way with me
While I was having fun.
My heart proposed to my mind
And told it, “That’s the one.”
My mind asked, “Are you serious?
Her beauty’s next to none.”
My heart said, “Just have patience,
We’ll work until it’s done.”
My mind looked at reality;
At the obstacles in the way.
My heart said, “They don’t matter.
I will make her ours someday.”
That conversation happened to me
Many years ago.
My poetry discloses
What the heart says so.
8. “He was now in that state of fire she loved. She wanted to be burned.” ~ Anais Nin. “Delta of Venus.” Book.
I WAS SET ON FIRE
By Roy E. Peterson
My hands began to sweat, my brow to perspire.
The cockles of my heart had just been set on fire.
I just saw a Venus! What more could I desire?
Who could be so beautiful? I had to inquire.
I lost my heart with “hello.” What a sweet surprise!
With fervor in her face the sparks flew from her eyes.
The burning fire she started, I could not disguise.
I’d give my life to be with her in paradise.
9. “I love you as certain dark things are to be loved, in secret, between the shadow and the soul.” ~ Pablo Neruda. “Sonnet XVI.” Poem.
MY HIDDEN SECRETS
By Roy E. Peterson
I have hidden secrets down in my heart.
Much like the eight ball they are deep and dark.
No one sees inside where I keep my light.
There it shines while dreaming after midnight.
Love I have for her the world does not know,
Like a golden orb casting a bright glow.
I can’t open the window that’s my mind,
Or else the whole world my secrets would find.
We have said the magic words, “I love you.”
Though we’ve grown older our love is brand new.
Oh, how precious will be our reunion.
I pray we’ll have personal communion.
I have given my love my heart’s golden key.
It’s up to her to tell the mystery.
10. “Tonight I will look up at the moon: and I will know you are looking at it too.” ~ Nicholas Sparks. “Dear John.” Book.
EVERY NIGHT I LOOK UP
By Roy E. Peterson
Every night I will look up at the moon
Where stars are twinkling in a blue lagoon.
I muse with moonbeams reflecting on dew,
You are under dark skies looking at it too.
Heaven has to wait while we’re far apart.
You’re the only muse living in my heart.
After I am through from my nightly stroll,
I’ll write another letter; pour out my soul.
I wish stars were eyes of my lady fair
Looking down on me from away up there.
The moon is her heart shining down on me.
Imagination of my reverie.
Fly away senses on a silver stream.
While I think of you watching a moonbeam.
Blue Eyes
By: Willow Hatch
I saw you again the other day.
As soon as I saw you our eyes met,
Mine brown, yours blue.
It’s like we were talking in our own language.
One that had become so murky over the months,
Neither of us could understand it.
It’s almost as if we were speaking under water,
Sending signs and messages that would only get lost in the waves between us.
Never resurfacing to face what was unspoken.
Sometimes I wonder what your eyes were trying to tell me that day.
What questions had you hidden behind those windows I behold?
But I could never know the full truth.
Just the fragments of your presence you had left behind.
Who knows?
Maybe one day we will see each other again.
Maybe our eyes will meet, and my questions will be answered.
Maybe yours will be too.
But till then I’ll only dream to see those beautiful eyes of blue.
“The white moth to the closing bine, The bee to the opened clover,
And the gipsy blood to the gipsy blood Ever the wide world over.”
Rudyard Kipling, “The Gipsy Trail.” Poem.
COME LET US LAY
By Roy E. Peterson
Come let us lay in fields of green clover
Under the sun near the Cliffs of Dover.
We’ll have a picnic upon a blanket.
A soft wind will blow and we will thank it.
We’ll challenge the birds with songs of our own,
Some of them unsung and some of them known.
Before the channel becomes overcast,
We’ll share a love that forever will last.
Forget about life. Forget about time.
You are the chalk cliff that I want to climb.
Sweet music we’ll make that no one will hear
As over the edge of the cliff we’ll veer.
“Come let us lay” is my invitation.
I anticipate ev’ry sensation.
“This bed of Rose’s that I lay on where I was taught to be a man.” – Statler Brothers, “Bed of Rose,” Song.
ROSE’S GARDEN OF ROSES
By Roy E. Peterson
Rose’s garden of roses enticed me
To follow her and keep her company.
She showed me the American Beauty
Rose that won grand prizes nationally.
The delicate petals looked as if kissed
By Rose’s sweet lips squarely in their midst.
Next came a set of crimson red roses
With sensuous scent their bloom discloses.
Around the fountain on the other side
Grew the yellow roses of Texas pride.
I asked to clip one to put in her hair.
She nodded, yes; I cut and put it there.
Can you guess what my heart proposes?
At least one night on the bed of Rose’s.
“He felt now that he was not simply close to her, but that he did not know where he ended and she began.” ―Leo Tolstoy, “Anna Karenina,” Book.
CLOAK OF LOVE
By Roy E. Peterson
The cloak of love descended like a shadow
Protective and defensive in its enclosing.
Shutting out the world with one small window
Illum’ed with thy radiance disclosing.
Am I worthy to glimpse such a goddess?
Am I allowed to see my love renew?
How precious to look upon thy bodice!
Anticipating fates that may ensue.
Where she treads, birds listen to her singing.
When she walks along, roses can’t compare.
For such love kings would gifts be bringing.
I never dreamed of such a love so rare.
Yet heaven brought me into her presence.
My only gift is love without pretense.
“Love is the Answer…” Quote from multiple sources including Albert Einstein, John Lennon and Marvin Gaye.
LOVE WAS NOT THE QUESTION
By Roy E. Peterson
Love was not the question.
It was answer to my prayer.
I opened up my heart and
Suddenly you were there.
I need no rhyme or reason.
No explanation trite.
Love replaced the darkness
In my heart that night.
It was not a candle.
It was a burning fire.
Flames consuming me
With the ashes rising higher.
Then love replaced the ache
Deep inside of me.
The star that I was following
Became my destiny.
My joyful soul was witness,
As our love sighs filled the air.
Two of us together composed
A tune beyond compare.
“Devil or angel, dear whichever you are, I love you…”
Ending to Song, “Devil or Angel,” as sung by Bobby Vee, Song.
ARE YOU A DEVIL OR AN ANGEL
By Roy E. Peterson
Are you a devil or an angel?
I have got to know.
When you are in my arms at night
I can feel my love grow.
Where did you get the matches,
So my fire you could start?
What about your pretty wings
That fanned the flames in my heart?
Where did you stash your halo,
That gave you a golden hue?
The emotions that you give me
Are amazing and new.
Are you a devil or an angel?
Please mind let it go.
I’ll just enjoy the moment.
I don’t really want to know.
“In the aftermath, she (Misty) still felt as though she were floating and as Leone shifted back from her she leant over him, silver-grey eyes bright with emotion, and whispered, ‘I died and went to heaven the day I found you.’~ Lynne Graham, “The Disobedient Mistress,” Book.
“Oh, almost paradise, We’re knockin’ on heaven’s door. Almost paradise, How could we ask for more? I swear that I can see forever in your eyes, Paradise.” Songwriters: Eric Carmen, Dean Pitchford; “Almost Paradise,” Song.
HOW FAR FROM HEAVEN CAN WE BE
Lyrics to a Song by Roy E. Peterson
When I saw you and you saw me,
It was electricity.
The world stopped to my surprise.
There was love within your eyes.
Had to have a date with you.
Nothing else that I could do.
Chorus:
When you are in my arms,
A dream keeps haunting me.
When I kiss your burning lips,
How far from heaven can we be?
Our first kiss transported me
To a place I loved to be.
I never felt that way before.
I only knew I wanted more.
We wished on a fallen star
From the seat of my old car.
Chorus:
When you are in my arms,
A dream keeps haunting me.
When I kiss your burning lips,
How far from heaven can we be?
The wish I made I thought I might
Share your charms with me that night.
Fire deep within me burned,
Then your face from me you turned.
It isn’t right; it’s getting late,
Though I love you, we have to wait.
Chorus:
When you are in my arms,
A dream keeps haunting me.
When I kiss your burning lips,
How far from heaven can we be?
My dreams keep coming back to you.
There’s so much we’ve been through.
We each went our separate way.
We may meet again some day.
I have one question haunting me,
How far from heaven can we be?
Chorus:
When you are in my arms,
A dream keeps haunting me.
When I kiss your burning lips,
How far from heaven can we be?