Golda C NjiribeakoAlexander
My Love - Poem by Golda C NjiribeakoAlexander
I wish to talk about you, my love
I wish to let out the feelings inside
I am at loss of words to give the details
But my best I’d try to portray in stanzas and verses
I hope you would understand how I feel
When you go through these written lines of mine...
It is my good fortune that you, my love
Whom I wanted so desperately is a man
Who is as intent in giving pleasure as
In getting it; with no inbuilt hang ups
About who gave and who got, who did
And who was done to, always there with a smile...
You are my modern version of Botticelli’s Venus
You are my sunshine, brightening up my cloudy days
Your gaze so penetratingly loving, consuming and erotic
Looking at you, I feel like drowning in you,
With you I don’t have to worry about a thing
Never knew I could love again until you came my way...
I revel in the red hot attraction that zings between us
I delight in the way you hold me; so gently yet firmly
Not pushing, hurrying or harrying me, not grabbing
But tasting and savoring; letting my response build slowly
Building up in its own internal rhythm, sparking off mildly
My love, have I told you how wonderful you are to me?
How could I not have fallen in love with you, my love?
You let me be the best I could ever imagine for myself
With you I don’t have to worry about being sexy enough
I don’t have to worry about being too intelligent or aggressive
Or even being too forward and demanding in our lovemaking
You made me fall in love with you; now I’m stuck...
Living has been a great delight with you in my life
Each day I bless the day you came my way
“Wasn’t a big deal, baby, ” you’d always say to me
But a big deal it is to me for you are so gracious
You made me see the essence of loving again, my love
You are next to none, nothing compares to you...
Copy right © Golda Njiribeako 2007
Comments about My Love by Golda C NjiribeakoAlexander
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
Do Not Stand At My Grave And Weep
Mary Elizabeth Frye