Some days I forget that you are real...
For how could thee ever be interested
In the likes of me...
Are you not perhaps a dream...?
Conjured by my infatuated thoughts...
How could you be mortal...?
Surly you are a goddess...
Even an Angel...as thy beauty depicts...
You shed my pre conceived idea of attraction...
Painting an image within my soul...
Where you have full control...
Novacane my dear...
You have left my senses numb..
And enticed my heart to run
sheade rudman's Other Poems
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Comments about this poem (Her Sonnet by sheade rudman )
- A Disagreement, RoseAnn V. Shawiak
- O Death Oh Loser, Adeosun Olamide
- How Many Things Are Still Left (The End .., Stephen Warren Williams
- Will I With It Sit, Lawrence S. Pertillar
- groundnut seller, umoh cyril
- imoremi, umoh cyril
- Palm's Greeting, RoseAnn V. Shawiak
- The land of the stars is the land of Sta.., Raymond Sawyer
- enjoy the silence.... in my fart, Jena Crowe
- Over-Ride, Lawrence S. Pertillar
Poem of the Day
- Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night, Dylan Thomas
- Invictus, William Ernest Henley
- Annabel Lee, Edgar Allan Poe
- The Raven, Edgar Allan Poe
- The Road Not Taken, Robert Frost
- Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening, Robert Frost
- If You Forget Me, Pablo Neruda
- If, Rudyard Kipling
- Still I Rise, Maya Angelou
- Phenomenal Woman, Maya Angelou
(27 October 1914 – 9 November 1953)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(8 February 1911 – 6 October 1979)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(31 October 1795 – 23 February 1821)
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(August 19, 1902 – May 19, 1971)