Beautiful Poetry, poems and love letters, not only for lovers, but for everyone who cares about romantic moments, the beautiful moments of live and love.
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Is it love?
I`ve got a question
I do not know if this is love
Some pain hurts me
Looking for a place to stay.
Faith! I never thought of such a home
Where you were happy
And I was happy with you.
I have never cried for you
No undone things.
I`ve never written any romantic poems
After waking up in bed
No sensual songs sung.
Do I love you ? I do not know.
I do not know if I idealize you,
Your tender smile, the sound of your voice
But I see the smile
It penetrates through the winter
Bringing me sunshine
Every afternoon, with you, without fear.
The dawn disturbs
I have to stay,
to look at the curves of your body.
I've never thought of
Kissing you all over,
I do not know if it's love.
It is perhaps a beginning ...
I do not know if you've changed my senses.
It might happen.
I do not know, but somehow you've inspired my soul.
Perhaps because it`s a long time
since something like this happened.
I do not know if it's love,
but I shudder.
I do not know if I 'm sick
but I suspect
that you have infected me.
Life and love
Let us love! I love you.
I live in your heart,
I can feel this pain and this love
I faint, with passion
With charm, with heat,
with burning tears, with languor.
I want to drink your lips
your love of heaven.
I want to die in your womb,
I want to be pressed to your chest.
I live, I hope,
I shudder, I feel
I smell your skin, your hair
I want to dream and sleep.
Come, my angel, my love,
my soul, my heart .
That night, I will whisper, like the wind,
like the sweet breeze, caressing you .
I want to live this moment,
the freshness of the night
the glory of the stars
the fascination of the moment
perpetuate with your love in me.
I want really great love
Love, only love. Here ... now...
more ... everything ...
Loved one! Loved one!
Do you remember? Forgot? Indifferent?
Keep moving or disconnecting. It is evil? It is good?
Who says you have to love someone?
Has a love life?
It is a feather in anyone's life.
Whom God has given the voice to sing.
And then when I would one day be dust,
to ashes, nothing,
then my night was a dawn.
I do lose,
to find me.
Hold your breath
The afternoon has expired
the flowers are closed,
the moon blended, leaving his mark on the water.
The light passes
in the waves on the beach,
licks off the ground,
harmonizes with the night,
better than the day.
Now we live in the night,
before the sound of the sea,
the gentle scent of the orchard
and the sweet moments of starry nights.
As in the honeymoon,
a temple with corridors of soft tones
the warbling of the birds
greeting the night lights.
Until then, the sun rises again,
the trembling dewdrops can disappear on branch.
We listen to the leaves of the tree,
the beating of the heart
in the middle of the forest , among the lush green trees.
The dawn leaves the flower blush,
a soft kiss in eternal dreams
the voice of a bell tower from far away.
Singing we jump down to the river
into the light of dawn,
to the mouth into the sea.
Our hearts float
like a golden cloud in the blue sky
Our hot kisses
mumble the tenderness, let us stop the breath.
We hardly perceive the stimuli of the country,
only our own perfume,
more than the flowers meadows
Here, close to the sea.
We feel only our harmony,
all of this is love.
Love when it reveals
it feels good
But we know how to speak then,
because we feel so much.
Sometimes we remain speechless,
the mind seems to forget.
But we can guess
we hear the view,
we see the words,
we know that we are loved.
We are one,
we feel closed
who can say how he feels,
a soulless speech.
But I can tell you
what do you not dare to say
You no longer have to talk
because I'm talking about
Love is a fire,
it burns you, without being seen.
Love is a wound,
that hurts , without being felt.
Love can be an unfortunate satisfaction,
a pain without direction, without injured.
It is no longer missing as good will,
not lonely to walk,
but to proceed hand in hand together.
Your winning arrows are not lost,
they are captured by the will
they serve, to win, the winner.
They kill those who rob us our loyalty.
But they can be in favor of friendship
Send in the hearts of men.
In contrast to self-
it is the same love.
Sweet like sugar cane, it seems to me,
peel, taste , taste.
I wanted to know what love is,
I longed for love.
And today, finally, I know it.
I have adored this study,
this unique science.
There is no love? It is longing? It is a championship?
A selfish love?
A flaming love.
A burning love.
Love you have to find
Love must be observed,
Love must be cultivated.
Love has to make.
Love, because I love
with the spirit,
with the ether,
with the body
with liquid substances.
As air, watch out for it,
You will not be able to catch it, anyway.
Love is instinct,
Love is transubstantiation,
Love is imposing and intangible.
Love is carnal,
Love is like twilight of the Gods,
Love is feeling and beyond.
Love is like a flute,
Love is art
Love is ambition and the language that I speak.
Love can refuse
Love can be understood
Love can be reached eventually.
Love can rob a final resting,
Love can break hearts
Love can shred us small
and can make a small bag from our soul.
Not only are there ideas and shyness
There are also delusions and desires
which make your head spin.
Dear, you have to live with love one must shine.
Love you have to fill properly
Love must be moved into the light.
You penetrate your being, not just your kisses
Love data make the air full,
with madness ideas and unimaginable wishes.
Yes, hot and easily. In the light of day,
scattered in my arms
in the fog of fantasy ...
Not so pale, but bright and flaming
like a flame
like a room full of twinkling stars
Love is not for the weak.
Dangerous to look at you
What is normal when it is aromatic?
Precious of your way with your gestures.
I want to follow you into the past
you draw me in like a treasure
stately pleasure fills me
your twittering voice, your clear profile,
your quivering breasts , your graceful movements,
you fascinate me
cheerful, feminine, fashion here is superfluous.
Your look, your fiery game, your wild kisses, your rare perfume,
your amazing games,
you little devil, sometimes sharp, sometimes painful,
sometimes caressing , sometimes icy.
I kiss your hands.
Your smile, your sensual movements
your rosy skin, your keen nights.
I see, and that filled me
I get hot flashes,
I am hallucinating ...
I enjoy ...
Until my exhaustion.
(Foto shows the garden of Versailles)
Gorgeous garments from shiny silk and dark velvet
in the width of which I could die.
But I come to warm me,
because I'm cold.
And I want
in the waves of pleasure strangle ...
A castle in a secluded hot desert
all in black, silent for hours.
Griffins to the folds of your fairing
like a big criminal.
In this cloth I could
just hide my tears.
Tall, blond, Dutch or French
an almost hesitant beauty ideal
beyond cool sadness
or melancholy Artemis.
If I'm drowning in your clothes
I listen to your sins.
High night of warless planet
eyes full of tears like water in the lake
with tender moon and wild dreams.
this night would be eternal.
Sigh sounded, we plunder our feelings,
we dethrone the sadness,
we illuminate the desire.
Our gondolas go on a cruise
through the shady streets of emotions.
Under murmuring words
we greet the day
between silk and velvet,
sensitive as the dew on the trees,
dominant as the music and
whisper like the wind.
My whisper extends
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