FIRST LOVE POEM AND LAST ONES.

Swarovski20

Sitting on an old yet well cleaned and kept sofa in Mexico, sitting all to the right corner.

Started writing the first LOVE poems, LOVE and GOD poems.

Age, only 17 years old. 

I could breathe only by writing, 1st attempt at the age of 16, most of my female peers seemed to have their path already crystal clear.

The crystal-clear path was marriage and kids, a modest or consistent dowry. A job, after 10 years engagement or so. Found out later on, did not happen for everybody.

 

Sitting on an old yet well cleaned brown sofa in Mexico, sitting all to the right corner.

Dilemma?  Which Language? Let’s pick Spanish, the most obvious one.

 

Borrowing books from a very modest library in Mexico-

Let’s pick Spanish- sitting on an old yet cleaned brown sofa in Mexico.

Long and stunning brown hair, a terrible glance in my eyes, thin-

 

First poem about future lovers- or maybe novios. One day I will surely meet. I thought…

First poem about the future- no experience- first poem about copulation-

Let me try it on a paper- and writing what it looks like: showed the poem to my mother who was still

alive.

She was quite stupefied how well I could describe love making in Spanish in details and emotions.

Other poems about the future lover- no physical idea- could draw him yet in my mind.

Other poems about love that would last forever- a child – no more than one. No off spring desire indeed.

Sitting on an old and yet cleaned sofa writing my first not lived stories that belonged to a future,

poems about GOD, who sees us and gave the spiritual being living in us. The Universe, the stars of words. Words not lived.

 

First infatuation started, by that moment poems stopped in a blink of an eye. For Good. For decades.

The idea of a soul mate that can see in you all the beauty you have- soul mate?

A soul mate you will give your life to. Sacrifice your being- the spiritual being and corporal pleasure and pain.

By the moment the first infatuation started- no more poems- no description of any kind came up to my mind, the reality came crystal clear, not the path.

 

Admiration, compliments, very beautiful girl, sexual advances from married men- only once or twice. Kisses I forgot the flavour in 1 year or so. Idealisation. Analysed better, what happened to your mother and grandmother, you BELIEVE happened, is that going happen to you as well? Of course not.

You supposed you knew. You described very well the not lived sensation, that once lived in the future, stopped any sort of poem and memory.

 

The poems what is yet to come in the way you imagine when you want to breathe deeply.

It does not work that way. Poems of the future in these times yet to come- you were young and attractive; it was obvious you will meet the right one.NO WAY. POEMS ADMIRED MUCH BY MEXICANS STOPPED ONCE YOU STARTED LIVING. STOPPED AS A BIT IN THE NETWORK CONNECTION.

 

Have you heard ‘’I love you somewhere’’?  Nowhere. NO JOKE. Only in written form many years later in Europe, he was deeply kidding.

By that moment I started changing inside- NO JOKE-

 

I fell in love maybe once. Unexpected- not looking for love of any kind. No conflicts crystal clear- not chosen as a soul mate- breathing deeply after 3 years I felt so relieved- Suffering with relief. He is not even a friend today- living in London- a jerk.

 

NO LOVE POEMS – NO MORE- OTHER POEMS PERHAPS IN THE VERY FAR FUTURE? When your body is aging- your brain gets sharper- and your eyes really truthful? Your eyes can recognize the untruthful from far away- even without the back up of a good pair of glasses.

A woman ready to sacrifice herself to the altar of LOVE, what for?

You will live with or without you- WITH OR WITHOUT YOU, MY LOVE.

Love in the internet- men looking for love- deprived of any- looking for something they do not have- ready to listen to any possible tragic love stories from side, soon disappointed. Not ready to jump out of the window for any man.THE DANGEROUS LIFE OF CERTAIN FILMS!

 

One day you will be all mine. Yes? When? Let’s have a meeting. Not even slightly increasing.

 

 

Last love poems perhaps?

 

Bad words chosen-

The awareness in the absence of Love- that the one described by preachers and mentors.

Love for their children is always there- until you will realise someone else got there.

Last love poems- since there is no LOVE to talk about-

Ready for my breakfast- the earlier I had him in fast mind kept.

Thoughts running

Feelings-

An entity appeared as real presence – flirting presence that connected with my neurons- all the way without expecting anything at all, to reach out my neurons and skins altogether even less.

Is he, my son? My grandson?  A stranger that became so…………..

I loved him all the way through. No questions. Coming up to my mind.

Inspired me ONLY ONE TINY THING- to go back to old good ancient habit of writing not for the sake of but for luxurious coming and upcoming- and …………….YOU.

Tons and tons of people suggesting a match when you are actually not matchable= BUT I CAN DESPARETELY LOVE- WHO I PICKED UP THAT MORNING IN THE RUMOURS AND NOISE, AND ANNOYING =NO REASON.

I pick up- with no reason- since your neurons are still a mystery. No matches are out there.

No Universal love could be underwear, when you are unaware.

 

NO more love poems- dedicated already and given away on the that way, on my way. Today? NO WAY.

 

Back to my old writing love leisure time LOVE.

Do not describe any LOVE of any kind no more- not mine-not wine- but other’s wonderful, tragic love stories in their glories-

Writing on your pathetic past events= nobody really cares about- focus on those with full glories in your writing full of exciting stories- coming from HISTORICAL TIMES of deceased creeds and still living ones.

 

YOUR LOVE.

 

AND MORE.

AGES ISSUES- AS STONEAGES- STONEAGES CAN ONE DAY MATCH NEW BORN AGES.

Back to old leisure time writing ages, when love was just in your pages.

 

 

 

 

  • Author: Swarovski20 (Offline Offline)
  • Published: February 11th, 2025 07:05
  • Category: Reflection
  • Views: 12
  • Users favorite of this poem: Swarovski20
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Comments +

Comments1

  • sorenbarrett

    There is a sense of isolation and lonliness in this poem that mingles with acceptance and overflows into reality and the realization that love is just a word a phase that comes for some goes for other and doesn't exist for the rest. A steril seed expected to sprout that with age becomes nothing more than a shell. Your use of biographical speech enhances the feeling making it more credible and real. This poem pulls on feelings of compasion and a changing of view as to what love is and is not. Brilliant!

    • Swarovski20

      It is not a view.
      I stopped writing once I started living other things in life, love was not among those. Thank you for the feedback.



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