My Amarente

Amarente my sweet flower,

From a distant land,

I feel so connected,

But yet to feel your hand.

 

Amarente my afar friend,

Step out from the shade,

Come into the light,

And you will not fade.

 

Amarente my goddess,

The Aphrodite incarnate,

Enjoy your life forever,

With no moment to wait.

Reviews

[Astrid Hamilton]

This poem emulates what I think a poem is, or what is poetry.
What is poetry, besides the rushing ebb and flow of a tide of a lover's soul,
the lover, a poet,
lover of words, emotions wrapped up in the tiniest heart,
beating and fluttering and reaching for the quill,
to spill the ink still onto the paper, to spill the thoughts,
the reader can be taught,
a secret message if they're listening,
and the most stunning,
interesting
aspect of poetry
is that no matter what the reader walks away with, what perspective or wisdom lost or gained behind such words,
the greatest secret is not what the reader may take, as each man's perspective is different,
but what the poet takes,
only for his own divine soul.

Thank you for your wisdom, and the beauty, no secret,
in your (seemingly Shakespearian) words.
...and they are yours, and yours alone, and everything you felt and are feeling.

And I, the reader, am reeling.