Love Poems - In the Garden
The Garden of Eden has fallen
No longer complete in it's glory
It's purity has turned to poison
And all feels incomplete
My name of course is Eve
The first of womankind
A balance between
Mere mortal and divine
My lover he was Adam
A young man in his prime
Often we did make sweet love
To while'away the time
I made him wedding bands
Of flowers, plucked
From flowering roots
Tied myself to him forever
Because my love was true
Likewise Adam oft took pleasure
To stare into my eyes
And lay sweet kisses on my lips
Then sing me lullabies
This love so pure, the first made true
Was shared under the eaves
In Eden where the flowers grew
And birds sang in the trees.
But paradise is lost
And is I that paid the cost
As I wandered in the morning
Still sleepy, and often yawning
I stumbled on the devil's hand
A snake coiled in the sand
That slithered near
Around my feet
And bade me in soft tones to eat
Some fruit it had espyed
Apples, moist and juicy
Ladening the tree
So many that one cannot mind
If I took some for Adam and me
Though it was forbade
To take from that beautiful tree
The snake did urge me on
Explain the gifts
Of knowledge in sweet song
Promising to make
Me wise, such a gift
Then Adam could not jest
That is always he that knew best
So I picked the fruit
And hurried with my loot
To where he did lie
With sleep still in his eye
I promise we both did eat
Our fill so stomachs were complete
Then spoke of knowledge
Of which I knew
No longer did I feel
The lesser of the two
But anger soon was swift
I was not meant this gift
Disgraced with hurrying feet
They bade me meet
The cruel world outside our garden
But what makes my heart harden
Condemns me incomplete
Is that Adam still lies within
With a new, sweet Eve
Still shares in love and laughter
And engages minds with angels
Who do repeat
Arguments ad nauseam
As if they were a treat
While I sit in cold
Stomclouds above me meet
I wonder if all Sins are still
Condemned to me because I chose to eat.
By Hilary Wheaton
Love Poems - Hell
Like an acid poison
This sweet smelling wine
Slips down my throat
Taints these lips divine
Clasping at my breast
Strangled with each breath
You flood me with emotion
Hatred, detest
And yet a hungry desire
Burns like a raging fire
Pierces my eyes
With images of you
At night I might wake
Shrieking, Screaming
With fear, lust and hate
That you haunt my dreams
And I shall find you
Hands entangled
In my hair
But I take some sick pleasure
Some grotesque indulgence
To balance love and hate
In the fantasies where we make
Sweet love a burning effigy
Anguish you shall remain
Weighed down in heavy chains
With your name branded on each lock
That holds me to this spot
Permanent as a rock
I'll struggle for eternity
Marked for all to see
This horrifying ballet of passions
In which act you and me
Rid my life of meaning
Wrench all from this soul
I wish to feel no longer
Desire to once be whole
But how do I break
The tie between love and hate
Free my mind to wonder
And sedate?
Maybe when the world lies burning
When naught it left to take
Humanity shall stand absent
Have fallen and lost the stake
Here, yes here my dear
Will be when ties are broken
No words then left unspoken
Will plague my mind and heart
But instead, at last
We shall be torn apart.
By Hilary Wheaton
Love Poems - Code
My life is a code
A spiral of script
The clues to its nature
Delivered on my lips
Or written in ink
In hidden journals
Of fine printed paper
In cursive writ
Perhaps also present
Encoded once more
In virtual spaces
With no lock or door
This code cannot be measured
No convention it keeps
But amasses my secrets
In days, months and weeks
'Individual' this language
But perhaps it may speak
Of others encoded
Who choose not to keep
Occasions may pass
When codes do collide
Entangled in streams
To form a delicate art
But in parrallel lines
They spend a little time
For this code serves alone
And only one mind
A mind or a heart
Is that what it takes
To break this code
For ones own sake
Who knows what a test
Is hidden in coded lines
Who can discern
Such an elegant design
But at times
A line, as fine as floss
Connects our codes
So all is not lost
To times eager blade
Which cuts and divides
And causes us all
To lead separate lives.
By Hilary Wheaton
Love Poems - Email
A Square
Of paper
Fine Ink
Cursive Style
Enveloped
Sealed with a Kiss
Now
A square window
Reveals
Lines in print
Plain type
Mark my archive
Of correspondence
In ages past
I could of burned
These memories
Felt some release
As smoke delievered
Words, meaning
To non-existence
But now
A web of code
Shall keep them safe
Somewhere unknown
They accumulate
A testament
That once
Those words of 'Hi, Regards'
Instead read 'Dear, Love'
However,
None will ever capture
Never take from me
Those words still in my mind
Replaced
That printed, text
That one opens
Invisible forever
For you see
Technology cannot gain from me
What words unwritten
That could have been
Wished delievered
But ill recieved
So still
You are unable to see.
By Hilary Wheaton
Poems- Seven Deadly Sins - Gula - (Gluttony) (II)
Sweet, Tender
Succulent fruit
Ripened by the Season
To pluck
Fresh from nature
Just for me
But I take no pleasure
In your fruits
You see
Because my taste
Delights not
In what you offer
Me
Sweets
Sugared Treats
Lack the nutrients
For which I hunger
Yet to devour
Will satisfy
Maybe for an hour
Until once more
My hunger fails
To be abated
Let the wine flow
Down forever
Sliding liquid
Smoothe as silk
On the surface
Of my throat
But my thirst
Makes me feel
Forever dry
And denied
In this meal
Maybe all I need
Is water
And a simple slice of bread
To evermore satisfy
And forgo
This hunger that I dread.
By Hilary Wheaton
Poems - Seven Deadly Sins - Gula (Gluttony) - (1)
Two Souls
Torn apart
Share a hunger
One cannot sedate
Ever greedy
One devours
The offerings
Served by Lovers
In the midnight
Hours
The other
Likewise undertakes
In actions
Designed to satiate
The palate
Waits
Both lack
Their fill
Each meal
Forever without
It's meat
Never satisfies
But this hunger
Ever churning
Burning
In their hearts
Reminds
Incessent
Of whats absent
While they are
Apart
-By Hilary Wheaton
Love Poems - Ode to 'O'
Soft touch
Sweet words
Whispered in my ear
A bodies warmth
To know
A soul is near
Fingers trace the outline
Of my female form
Milky white skin
A product of my kin
In romantic light
Tonight while we
Explore
As if printed on my body
Some erotic text
Ink stains this skin
Of the fairer sex
Bruises mark the trail
Desired by you
Tonight
Selfless act of love
Divine denial
To procreate
Lust delayed
Male phallus
Shows not its potency
Focus on this female flower
Young bud
Ripened by Spring season
Mystery
Magical womanhood
Which men
Religion praise
I'll rise to meet those lips
Drink with gratitude
Passion delivered
As a gift
Swollen in this body
Engorged with emotion
Changing as the tides
Obey the moon
My water rises
Overflows
Spills 'climactic'
Euphoria rushed embrace
Breaks down
Sacred temple doors
No prayer here today
For God to cleanse
These flaws
My mind philosophical
Blank, tabula rasa
Leaves only soul
And heart
To empty
Sorrow
Entombed within
In ignorance I am
Knew not
Why floodgates opened
In torrents forth
They spilled
When at last
A body's desire
Was fulfilled
Maybe because the body
And the soul did meet
In brief
Clear understanding
Found they were to be
Incomplete.
By Hilary Wheaton
Love Poems - Picture Frame
Some days
I sit
And feel the shame
Of looking at your
Empty frame
Once it held
You
Wrapped in gold
A smile, a soul
Who I once knew
And treasured to hold
A love
On show
To see your face
Comfort
Gazing back at me
But now
These days
I draw a blank
To sit and stare
And reminisce
But in my mind
Alas
Still I see
That picture there
Of you and me
I wish I could smile
I really do
But all I can think
Is of the distance
Between me and you
A tint of love
A stab of regret
That we
May have never
Met
But Anger all
Enframed for me
Because that picture
Cannot still be
Inside that frame
That once held
You and Me.
By Hilary Wheaton
Poems - Seven Divine Virtues - Patientia (Patience)
Patience
Is a virtue
They say
Yet I do no employ
It's tactic
I spend my time
In ill retreat
An idle errand
Til we meet
All things considered
It is required
For 'true' patience
To suspend
Ones desire
And here I fail
I cannot rest
Or truly work
Until my thoughts
Of you
I shirk
Time
Is ever slipping
Between us
Patience
Begins to fade
Mine eyes
Your heart
Is ever jaded
From the start
In current endeavour
For I doubt
Conviction
Failed to check
And to forget
So patience
Plays its part
It is the
'Truest' virtue
To be content
In limbo
Waiting for thou heart
But Patience
I will offend
If these hours and days
Match in time
Those we shared that came to end
For patience
Implies
By definition
That one shall be
Rewarded
To me
Time flies
Like an arrow
From the bow you hold
'Tis you that sets the mark
Patience
Caught in limbo
Here I wait
No virtue to employ
But tortured
By Hilary Wheaton
Love Poems - Tea
Oh please, Share this tea My love With me? For many a pleasure May there be To take and dine And share with me This humble cup I brew.
By Hilary Wheaton
Poems - Seven Deadly Sins - Ira (Wrath)
Spill my wrath
Upon this page
Like ink it stains
All things with rage
A poets heart
Should be pure
To enable such an art
But my pen
Often hesitates
In anguish
Struggled
Strangulated speech
My words
They twist and writhe
Upon the page
To speak of those
In no disguise
Who have caused me such pain
Be still my pen
Tool of a humble art
For with each word
You wrench the truth
Hidden in this heart
Fury, I suffer thee no
Denial
For a monster feeds on me
Laughing all the
While
Frustration here
To rip this page apart
For he will not hear
The words I write
Seperate me not
From pen and paper
Censored though
For anger cannot be
All the words I wish to say
Between you and me
This poem fails to satisfy
Incites ira evermore
If I could only slip
The real poem
Of 'anger'
Underneath his door.
By Hilary Wheaton
Poems - Seven Divine Virtues - Virtus (Chastity)
I've slowly learnt
Day by day
To guard my heart
And not throw love away
It takes some time
For love to grow
One cannot feel it in one day
But time will tell
And play its part
Perfect this 'Art' for gentle souls
For soon love will show
You may be meek
Avert your eyes
When lust comes to your door
For many a lover, friend or foe
Shall tarry and dare to knock
And far more, to test the lock
Smiling eyes,
A warm caress
Is sure to prove a test
Yet Beware,
Keep watch
For they too have perfected an 'Art'
To seduce and never,
Have your interests
At heart
If I devote a little time
To tend my soul
Aim Divine
Delay small pleasures
And guard my heart
I might grow to understand
The nature of this 'Art'
To love is no sweet words
Delivered on tender lips
Nor is it a burning fire
Felt only in the hips!
A Secret may reveal to me
To love is not for lovers alone
But many a love
Platonic and shared
Shall be denied by a kiss
Between companions
For more easily to show
Sweet loves true nature
Is actions spurred from the heart
There shall be
Where I perfect this 'Art'
In time these virtues
Shall be admired
And love the sweeter
Shall be
Shared between friends
And lovers
Such as you and me.
By Hilary Wheaton
Poems - Unclassified - Leanne's 'Skimpies'
Two bodies on show
Masculine and Feminine
Reduced to naught by 'sex'
Slim covering, for all to see
First the male (divine creation)
Contemporary Michelangelo
A work of art, muscles and anatomy
On show between gathered company
Second the female (biblical this Eve)
A Venus De Milo
With arms though
And curves, ripe body we see
Our bodies, much admired
Sometimes for play or jest
Can provoke discomfort, even deteste
For some who wish not to see
Maybe though,
Beautiful bodies provide ill show
Out of context
This Venus and Michelangelo
For 'David' wears a 'g'
And Venus sports some racey red
No artful eye to gaze
But lustful and amazed instead
Forget though,
For a moment
That context plays a part
For still, these bodies are a work of art.
By Hilary Wheaton
