She can be a nest.
She’s got the necessary equipment.
Two breasts
you could rest your head between.
She can be a string of pearls,
rounded between your fingers,
as you count the time
between ivory knots.
She is, yes, the artichoke
with the impossible heart
a man might seek for tenderness.
She is the cherry,
containing a center stone
you work around with an agile tongue.
Sometimes she would like to be
just a white dress. Not the satin kind,
but the plain cotton,
with the simple buttons
you’d undo down the back,
wondering how a body hides within
such easy transparency.

—L.L. Barkat, author of the fiction/poetry title The Novelist

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photo by Sarah Elwell

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Wild Nights, Wild Nights! (269)

Wild Nights – Wild Nights!
Were I with thee
Wild Nights should be
Our luxury!

Futile – the winds –
To a heart in port –
Done with the compass –
Done with the chart!

Rowing in Eden –
Ah, the sea!
Might I moor – Tonight –
In thee!

—Emily Dickinson

For more love poems, see The Collected Poems of Emily Dickinson.

Related Article at Tweetspeak Poetry:

“Who wouldn’t love a poet that loved to stay home, hated laundry, gave away baked goods, knew her way around a piece of sarcasm, and used chocolate wrappers for her Moleskine?” continue reading A Pencil for Emily Dickinson

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Wild nights Emily Dickinson photo by LL Barkat

photo by L.L. Barkat

Check out Funny Love Songs
Check out Romantic Love Songs