Nothing is as sweet as poetry. So it it only makes sense that at times we need to take a pause, reflect on what is sweet in our lives, and write a little poem about it. There’s nothing wrong with sugary sonnets or honeyed haiku. Your rhymes might be a little ripe, but who is to say your lines still won’t be luscious. Here are our own sweet poems. Each one is an original written specially for Shadow of Iris.
Cherry Sweet, a poem
by Paul Bearer
Your life is flickering by,
each moment a slice of the pie;
savor the bite you take today,
for as tomorrow, well, who can say.
Sweet Poison, a poem
by Emma Blue
You bring magical vibrations.
It’s your own visual brand of music.
It’s the stars coming together
in just the right constellation —
as you said they would.
They bring on compulsions,
powerful attractions
that drive you into my heart.
They are the tip
of a well-aimed arrow
dripped
in sweet poison.
Sweet Captivity, a poem
by Justin Thyme
Confine me to a place
where I cannot wander
far from you;
reduce me
to a tiny glass trinket
in a small glass cage,
then place me upon your dresser
and let me gaze into your mirror
day after day
trying to fathom
the depths of your beauty
in a captivity
sweet.
Kiss Me Sweetly, a poem
by Dustin Down
I remember a girl
who would never kiss me,
but nor she would push me away
or refuse to see me.
I know what you’re thinking,
but no, it wasn’t like that …
it was just a thing,
she was scared of kisses,
and she couldn’t really say why.
She was sweet,
it was a kind of shyness—
she told me
she’d never kissed anyone—
and idiot that I am,
of course, I believed her—
and I still do.
I wanted to tell her about me.
I wanted to tell her
I was less than perfect, too.
I should have, I could have,
now I ask myself
why I didn’t.
Pride is a funny thing,
and shame is even worse,
and I suppose it’s shame
that got the better part of me—
If I’d told her the truth,
then she’d have seen
there was something there,
and we’d had that in common.
I want to see her face
so badly now …
with all those warm colors.
She had so much hair,
long beautiful curly hair—
she had an Italian face,
hight cheek bones
and a pale complexion—
her lips, God, what lips,
so full and thick
and made for kissing.
She had nice eyes, as well,
large, brown, and deep,
and I even thought
there was a bit of destiny there—
a connection.
We’d had a date,
and I met her in the mall,
she was so late,
and yet I’d waited.
I remember walking around the mall
and just talking about all sorts of things,
she was so much more open than I was,
and I liked listening to her.
I remember in the evening,
when she was sitting in my car,
and I was so close to her.
When she smiled at me,
I couldn’t help
but to try and kiss her—
it felt like the most natural thing
in all the world.
It lasted for more than few seconds,
and she never pushed away,
so much as she just go.
She sort of slipped out of it—
but the smile on her lips
stayed there, and then she apologized—
I couldn’t bear that,
there was no need to apologize.
How many dates did we have
after that, three or four?
She introduced me to her mother,
and the three of us shared vodka
mixed with orange juice,
and it was all so friendly—
But then she told me she was leaving—
she was going back to school
she wanted to be an actress—
I told her that she was different,
and that she was special,
but that I knew she needed her space.
I told her, if there was ever even
just a chance, to look me up
and call me.
She let me kiss her then,
and she parted her lips
and let me inside
for just a few minutes—
and it wasn’t the pleasure
so much as the closeness
that made it sweet
and everlasting.
Years later,
when I was in another country,
in a manner of speaking, serving time,
you made that call—
if only I could have been there
to get it.
I suppose I can’t bear people
unless they are flawed
in some manner or another—
perfection frightens me,
it’s too much like sterility—
what good can ever come
from perfection.
Flaws are personality
and from that
all else follows.
Like winds that bear sweet music when they breathe
Through some dim latticed chamber.
— Percy Bysshe Shelley
We hope you enjoyed these sweet poems. Remember, if you don’t go to the sidebar and follow Shadow of Iris, you might miss our next delicious poem.