Example poetry

“Love is such a small word”

One person’s clutter may contain another person’s treasure. (Wikimedia Commons)

I was in the middle of Sisyphus’ task of tidying up my desk recently, when I realized how many things I had. I looked around the room and felt the onset of a Marie Kondo-induced panic attack.

“I should get rid of some of that,” I thought to myself. But as I took stock of the piece, it became clear to me that it wasn’t all “stuff.” The trash had transcended the treasure. I couldn’t part with it.

Paraphrase George Carlin: Other people’s stuff is shit and your shit is shit.

Even though I didn’t consider these things treasures just because they belonged to me, I did consider them treasures because of the love I had invested in them. These are things that I loved so much that I made them my own. Or that someone had given me to convey their love.

These things only meant something to me and to the people who gave them to me. Whether it was because I liked the objects or because the people who gave them liked me, the common denominator was love.

Love is perhaps the only thing that can be everywhere and nowhere simultaneously.

It can be in things, like a worn-out NERF soccer ball you learned to catch with, a painting or sketch from a friend of something that has special meaning for both of you, or a poem written for you that expose your soul. Take love out of the equation and you’re left with an old soccer ball, a picture of a potted plant with no context, and the ramblings of someone talking about a woman living in a man’s heart.

Love can be a series of words: a joke between you and someone you’ve worked with for years, or a letter to someone you can’t see in person anymore. It can even be in one word. Take for example the word “bread”. The word ‘bread’ can literally just mean the bread you eat, or it can be a term for money, or, if you add some love, it can be a playful nickname. that you are given because autocorrect messed up your name in some text. thread. Why “Bread”? Because everyone loves bread.

It’s entirely subjective. You can choose what to like, what makes sense to you. It can also choose you with the memories it contains. You can give your love to anything and everything and, in doing so, make things meaningful. Or not.

Whatever you do, whatever gifts you give, whatever words you speak, I hope you choose to do it with love. I definitely try these days. Love can give gold to the simplest things.

Here is a poem I wrote about the word “love” in all its tiny and grand nature. Dear reader, please know that things get a little spicier from here….

love is
from the Rackley brand

love is

such a small word

To like

Your smile
Your question
Your come here
Your arrest
your blue
swimming pools
lower men call eyes

The stick of them
Because you say
most of what i do is cute

To like

Your hand
his thumb
The circles he made
on my back
when the world stopped spinning
When we thought
we’ll never see each other again

The looks
You gave me
when it turned again

To like

A comment
A glance
that rise and move on your skin
when our knees touch
The hairs that graze

The weather
of an affected thigh
innocent reaction
Interrupt the thought
Call to action

this creak
and spark
A radiant red
which springs from the base of the porcelain vase which contains
your honest desire
Like a cup that can’t help but overflow

A burning flood
A heat that no
the water
can cool

Rolled up
A rolling knot
want to break up
An open approach
To gallop
like wild horses
ridden hard
Not on Amazon

A quiver
hidden deep
no arrows
Tight like a pussy bow
is loose
it’s on the floor

in private places
Points that Morse does not need to scrutinize
Not an SOS
Not a cry for help
Their result anyway
His holy name
taken in vain
And mine
taken in nothing less
Like my teeth that left them

To like

Your arms
your pressure
around my waist
like your voice
when you say
will go well

To like

The length of time
I can bear
without you

love is

such a small word

love is


love is


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