Poetry Lover Novels & Stories

All I could think of was how much Liam used to love it when I sang him awake on his birthdays — when he was smaller, before he learned how to hate me. I walked to his room with a soft smile, holding onto a thread of hope that maybe, just maybe, today he would remember that I’m still his mother. The door creaked open and I peeked inside. He was curled under the blankets, his small frame rising and falling gently. The sight of him sleeping always did something to me — a mixture of pride and pain. My baby. My little boy. The

" Wow... It's really the answer . You truly are genuious , the lady who have you must be blessed." The anchor praised him while he had no reaction. Jessica blushed when she heard the praises. " So let's go for another question. This is not that hard but also not easy likely more higher than the third question." He took another card containing fourth question. " The question is... How many loves do you hear in the peom given." " Love love love my beloved life. I see you in my dream filled with cloverleaf. Love love love my beloved life. You are like my gloves and

My lips press together in thought, “Have you ever played the game before?” He smiles and “No,” he replies straightway. My brow rises and my eye dim in scrutiny. “Why?” “Simple, I’ve never been broke.” He says. I roll my eyes, but my cheeks warm up. “Whoever made this is a smart bastard or a sick obsessor.” “Or maybe an unapologetic lover.” “You’re right.” A new revelation has popped into my head as he just said this. If the writer is an unapologetic lover and a devoted poet, maybe the answer is not just a word that we can invent, but a word that is already in the poem.

I must have dozed off while I was reading earlier. The Poems of Francis Ledwidge – the moth-eaten emerald green book I found in the study – is lying next to my pillow, the gold-embossed oak leaves on the cover glinting in the lamplight. The last thing I remember reading before nodding off was a poem gran had often sung to me as a bedtime lullaby. That book of the page is creased, dog-eared. The poem is about a water spirit who died after falling in love, which seemed to be one of Francis Ledwidge’s favorite themes – doomed love, tragic, beautiful maidens and lots and lots of flowers.

"Wow. You're crying pretty hard." Liam straightened his rumpled clothes and walked over from the direction of the greenhouse. "Stop pretending, Damien. I know you're not really crazy." He bent down and used the filthiest words he could think of to provoke me. "Did you get a good look outside the greenhouse just now? Amelia likes men like me. You're a cripple who can't even feel the lower half of his body. You can't even move your hips. What's the point of living?"

theater to take up some other, less dangerous occupation. I will love you if you drop your raincoat on the floor instead of hanging it up and I will love you if you betray your father. I will love you even if you announce that the poetry of Edgar Guest is the best in the world and even if you announce that the work of Zilpha Keatley Snyder is unbearably tedious. I will love you if you abandon the theremin and take up the harmonica and I will love you if you donate your marmosets to the zoo and your tree frogs to M. I will love you as the starfish loves a coral reef and as kudzu loves trees, even if the oceans turn to sawdust and the trees fall in the forest without anyone around to hear the

My favorite poet is Emily Dickson. If at all I died, it is because I wanted to, I have always wanted to, because I feel unworthy, I dint love myself

They can't do anything to help Memphis and Fleur cause they didn't know their story but their hearts hurting for them to have this situation because they love each other back then. "I forgive you too, M-Memphis! I-i'm sorry!" Fleur cries, "I am so sorry, Memphis! And——I Love You Too, L-Love!" that was the last word she says and let herself fall in the ravine.

He took his time making sure I get my pleasure. I think I cried a few times from the sheer feeling of his passion, I felt so happy and overwhelmed. Simon is an amazing lover. He makes sure I feel each and every stroke he gave me. I love how his fingers grip me, it’s like he’s trying to anchor me to him. He has such power in his body but he uses it so gently. He’s a master at controlling it too. He made sure to give me just enough, so I’ll ask for more.

She’s an ex-lover. Sam thought of herself, too. Why did she come here if she doesn’t care about Zach anymore? Sam knew it’s not about love anymore. It’s about that person that won’t leave your mind every single night, resisting her eyes from falling asleep. Sam leaned the back of her head on the wall, stared at nowhere, and began to think. … 1 year ago.