metaphoric-battlefield

[metaphoric-battlefield]

Her heart no longer her own

for she has given it to one man

-- the present sunlight that covers her oceans,

whose love somehow distills her existence

who sparked an eloquence from her glowing silence.

**************"

-- geena, nov2021, lovenote I wrote for you today

[metaphoric-battlefield]

AN ALBUM OF YOU

I keep an album of you

that I may remind myself

that what I had lost before

could be retrieved once more

by one man's pure and true ardour..

I keep an album of you

so I could touch with my hand

the face that emits your substance

in hold of the sense of a commoner

-- a clover inside my core that could

disentangle me from these mortal coils

at the end of the day.

But if it had been entirely an illusion,

dreams of you I have carried within

I would still aim to preserve,

to retain each cherished image...

Moments have been captured in full flush

until such time when their gloss

from every light has all gone out.

--geena, 28oct2021, lovenote I wrote for you

[metaphoric-battlefield]

Dearest ever metaphor

rays from the sun down

to the pearl of my verse

No one have I kissed 

more deeply

on this silent field

where I run by my feelings

and nothing else.

-- geena d. romantic poet; 23nov2018; originally published in autumn nightingale

[metaphoric-battlefield]

A beautiful songbird from a fanciful myth  articulates the hums of my tender will he’s an attachment I honor above the rest – a masterpiece of all time and love.

Remember me past the strength of my devotion past the complications of my faithful heart  past the tides that had once rushed  to match the fervour of these lines.

****************** -- geena d. romantic poet; 24april2019; originally published in autumn nightingale; image:speir-s

[metaphoric-battlefield]

Sweet man from my dream  sole marrow to love songs  I sing through the night. How this hole in my heart  ploughed by your absence  has turned deep as the ocean  in concurrence with each star  that ignites and falls  over the burden of those three words  I am forbidden to say.

************** -- geena d. romantic poet; 20april2019; image:photosbygerardo; originally published in autumn nightingale

[metaphoric-battlefield]

I know whereof I speak, I know what I’ve come to seek: his scent, his sigh, his touch, my light, my heart, one love.

--------------------

-- geena d. romantic poet; june2018; originally published in autumn nightingale; image:baby-vintage

[metaphoric-battlefield]

I turn you into a song, a sonnet, a poem Time as my witness an affection has grown Simple treasures in place of their glow would find you then and think of home.

To stage my truth I give you words to plead for love I give you words to say I cherish I give you words; this cluster of letters I come here for in no other manner will I know how.

- geena d. romantic poet, 11aug2019

[metaphoric-battlefield]

Scent of moonlight in an evening of love has dipped us both to a wide sea of longings until we slowly drift down hand to hand heart to heart lung to lung.

------------------------- 

-- geena d. romantic poet, june 2019; originally published in autumn nightingale

[metaphoric-battlefield]

I created a version of him whose heart belongs to no one but me. He’d ask why, and I say, ‘How is our love unalike to the vow of faith among bodies of heaven, sheer bond of rain to clouds, vast pledge by earth unto the flames of the sun.’ For the only thing I know is the only way I love.

-- geena d. romantic poet, 22june2019; originally published in autumn nightingale

[metaphoric-battlefield]

A motion of yours in the night becomes a cool breeze which lingers round my heart. Words pile up and give rise to feelings that used to reign… because you still own in me what has not gone anywhere.

geena d. romantic poet, 19june2019; originally published in autumn nightingale

[metaphoric-battlefield]

he’s been obsessed with an artist named marisa look i’m sorry but she seems skinnier than morticia maybe blinded by the taste he might have for her art i still think omg sth’s wrong with his sight

geena d. romantic poet, 26june2019 (via theminutehand)

[metaphoric-battlefield]

A faraway look at the sea a press of heaven in between longings. She is homeless in the land but is sheltered in the sky. Gently touching her scar within, the heart of mark which tells "you can come back to me"

geena d. romantic poet, 30july2019; image: casadpraia

[metaphoric-battlefield]

originally published in autumn nightingale by the same author

‘Twas a year ago today when my heart woke up to the glow of your flame migrant to my senses, you gained entrance like a series of prayer to an ailing soul what else is left after loss of precious faith before dreams had been lost to some tragic fate Now the candle across in its burning grace beholds a credence for my wants  in the comfort of your arms.

– geena, 06march2019

[metaphoric-battlefield]

I am often someplace where poetry cannot reach I sit by the veracity of a single star the footsteps I’d left in hallways I couldn’t hide every candle emits smoke in ghost white which explains my fickle struggle as a poet No muddy waters run through my river the profundity of these feelings I’m bound to clear before I empty them out into your sea.

-- geena d. romantic poet, 2018; originally published in autumn nightingale

[metaphoric-battlefield]

If I could name the fragrance from my fingers that touched your face my plush words to build this realm would be complete Like timeless pieces of myself I would like you to have they will linger through the lungs of our lyrical breaths.

geena d. romantic poet (originally published in autumn nightingale)

[metaphoric-battlefield]

Walt Whitman, Song of Myself

[metaphoric-battlefield]

How shall I make the moon rise tonight? How shall I make it inspire an amorous fool to profess her affection in distinctive ways? But how are words still essential when all she yearns is to pull him close – to brush her lips on every part of his face for the longest moment the night can hold.

– geena, 01march2019