Carl Martin Johnson
Poet, Author, Slayer of Dragons
LOVE SONG Poetry -- "Men and Women in Lust and Love - Poems of Love, Lust, Romance, and Heartbreak"
© Carl Martin Johnson, All rights reserved
A PRIVATE SIN
By Carl Martin Johnson
They were simply two lost strangers
Seeking shelter from the rain.
They ignored the risk and dangers
For brief relief from this life’s pain.
No one else was in the park
When they stumbled upon the shed.
She nearly fled, fearing the dark,
But something held her there instead.
Both were soaked clear through.
Her blouse pasted to braless breasts.
He was transfixed by the view.
She made no protests.
He raised a tentative hand
To touch her firming charms.
It was an encounter so unplanned,
Yet she took him in her arms.
He began to speak.
She put a finger to his lips.
She reached up to kiss his cheek,
Grinding into him with her hips.
Clothes strewn over the floor.
No concern for who might see them.
They made love like never before.
From inhibition lust did free them.
They lay close when they were spent,
Gazing into each other’s eyes,
Inhaling their bodies’ scent,
Hearing echoes of their passion cries.
Silently they stood.
Dressing slowly, without speaking.
What they’d had was good.
They’d found what they were seeking.
They would not meet again.
They smiled and walked away.
This was their private sin.
This was their private day.
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SHAME
By Carl Martin Johnson
I know I can never keep you,
Only briefly share your bed.
In love’s nectar I will steep you
Preserving my memory instead.
You lie here beside me.
We have loved and now are spent.
I wish to God that I could hide me,
And escape my guilt’s torment.
Your face is calm in sleep.
A lone tear glistens from your eye,
For promises made we cannot keep
No matter how we try.
From battle he returns tomorrow,
The man to whom you belong.
I love him, too – that is my sorrow.
Dear God, help me to be strong!
Side by side with him I stood,
My fellow warrior, your good man.
With the honor all men should,
There we fought while others ran.
I saved his life, as he did mine.
For a wound I came back first,
Finding I needed more than wine
To quench my gashed body’s thirst.
Now with my comrade’s bride I lie.
The attraction far too great.
Cursing fate I did not die,
Regarding my own black soul with hate.
It was love that made me weak.
Not hers, but mine the blame.
Oblivion is what I will seek
To erase my traitor’s shame.
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YOUR HANDS
By Carl Martin Johnson
Your hands run down my chest.
Over my abdomen and below.
Your hands do loving best.
They know how to make me glow.
Your slender fingers trace
Hard muscles of my thighs.
My gaze moves to your face.
I see the woman-lust in your eyes.
The smooth tip of your finger
Travels softly on my skin.
It senses just where to linger
And tempt me on to luscious sin.
Will this lead to full loving sweet
Where our bodies strain in union?
Or will your hands make love complete,
And leave our souls to final communion?
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KISS ME IN THE MORNING
By Carl Martin Johnson
Kiss me in the morning,
For I may not return.
Fate rarely gives us warning.
Fate has no concern.
Tell me that you love me.
Bless me on my way.
Swear to the stars above me
That you will always stay.
Say you will await my returning,
Should I be gone for many years.
That love’s light will still be burning,
And you’ll greet me with joyful tears.
My heart will ache until I hold you.
You will never leave my mind.
Please remember what I told you:
My heart has not left you behind.
But, if ill chance befalls us,
On this earth this kiss be our last,
We will meet again where eternity calls us.
And there forever our love hold fast.
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WEDDING POEM FOR CHRISTIAN AND SOMMER
By Carl Martin Johnson
Today we become one,
Still ourselves, but more.
We will never be undone.
Never lonely, like before.
Together we are strong,
Nothing can defeat us.
We can put right any wrong
Life throws out to meet us.
We are a winning team.
“I love you” is our cheer.
We will bring into our dream
All we ever will hold dear.
The vows we make today
Are from the soul and heart.
Carved in stone, not clay.
So now our life will start.
Our love never weakens.
Our love never dies.
Our love will shine like beacons
From each others’ eyes.
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RUN AWAY WITH ME
By Carl Martin Johnson
Run away with me to paradise.
Leave the place that pains you.
You’ve already paid a heavy price.
No obligation now restrains you.
I will clasp you to my heart.
Make sure you never cry.
We will never be apart,
Not even when we die.
Our love will be immortal,
A constellation in the heavens glowing,
Reached only through our two hearts’ portal,
Blessed beyond all knowing.
Let us grab a passing moonbeam.
We will flee while the world is sleeping,
Escape into a soft dream
And have a life worth keeping.
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A LOVELY WOMAN DIED
By Carl Martin Johnson
A lovely woman died today.
I saw it on the news.
Greatest actress of all, they say,
But for long now a recluse.
I kissed her once when just a youth,
Hardly more than a child.
I fell in love, but she, in truth,
Thought I was far too wild.
Her beauty took her very far,
Her talent to the top.
Yet Hollywood life was constant war.
The fast ride had to stop.
I once wrote her a letter,
In an alcohol-fueled funk.
I should really have known better,
But I was very drunk.
I received a quick reply.
It opened with “Dear Fan”.
Almost made me cry.
I didn’t; I’m a man.
I still watched her on the screen,
Every movie that she made,
Every frame in every scene,
Every new part that she played.
She had been my love for years,
Kept secret deep inside.
I held hope despite my tears.
Now all gone since she has died.
Or was I in love with an illusion.
That would be a truth far worse.
Then I must admit the sad conclusion,
I cannot love, only rehearse.
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EYES OF A BLIND POET
By Carl Martin Johnson
I see life now far better
Than I could before the dark.
Soft shadows now unfetter
My mind’s creative spark.
Your love provides pure sight
When you translate what you see.
Though I am prisoner of night,
No man should pity me.
I would never trade my place
With a man whose eyes are whole.
With you I have been given grace
To see through a loving soul.
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TEARS AT TWILIGHT
By Carl Martin Johnson
Have you seen her tears at twilight
When ghosts slice through the air?
Dropping to earth through Heaven’s skylight
To loved ones waiting there.
Her own love’s shadow she never sees
Among all the dead returned.
Only evening’s empty breeze
No matter how she’s yearned.
Memories of their past
Are all that she holds dear.
Trusting he will come at last
Gives her strength to persevere.
Is her lover lost?
Is his sad soul wandering?
Not realizing the cost
Of the eternity he is squandering?
Will she ever know
That her own soul haunts the night?
Glimpsing her phantom glow
In the twists of spectral flight..
And that her grave is where she lies,
Crying for love’s rebirth.
Uttering moaning lovelorn cries,
While her love still walks the earth.
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FEVER
By Carl Martin Johnson
She still burned with love’s fever.
Inside she was on fire.
Their coupling did not relieve her,
Nor satisfy desire.
Hot trails ran along her thighs,
Where his fingers had been tracing.
She could not cool them with her sighs,
Nor stop her heart from racing.
Where her body had felt his kiss
Yearned for him to give more pleasure,
Craving a return to the bliss
Memory stored as loving treasure.
She hungered for his tongue,
Entangled wetly with her own,
While their mating song was sung,
A long ardent, amorous moan.
She smoldered in hidden places,
Where his passion before had found her.
She still needed his embraces,
Lusted for his arms around her.
Every spot where he had touched her
Awaited, throbbing, his return.
Her ardor for him clutched her
Her soul willing to burn.
Her body ached for him badly.
Every inch of tingling skin
Searching for his caress madly.
She must have him again.
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DIANA’S BED
By Carl Martin Johnson
The sheets were wrinkled and wet
When I saw Diana’s bed last.
I have not forgotten yet,
Though many months have passed.
The pain cut like a knife
With my vision of her and a man.
That picture destroyed my life,
As only the betrayal of love can.
For long moments I stood shocked.
I could not scream or weep.
Then my memory blocked.
The hurt had driven too deep.
I ran in madness, dripping blood.
I remember running fast.
That I had killed I understood,
And that my life would not long last.
Even the badlands could not hide me.
Although for months I sheltered there.
My soul had died inside me.
My sin too hard to bear.
The sun burned out my eyes.
Left me to wander blind.
I saw only blood red skies.
And Diana’s bed in my crazed mind.
Now the hangman will set me free.
Snap my neck and leave me dead.
The last thing I will see
Is my sweet Diana’s bed.
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YOUR LIPS
By Carl Martin Johnson
Your lips are succulent berries
That I take between my teeth,
Tasting what your love carries
To my mouth and all beneath.
I raise my fingers to your kiss.
Your mouth’s flesh is so exciting.
I groan aloud in abandoned bliss
From the pleasure you’re inviting.
Then moist lips trace up my spine,
Sending shivers down my back.
Feeling the flow of lovers’ wine
Fueling rapture’s s hard attack.
They slide across my chest.
And speak to all of me,
Giving such arousal I protest.
I cannot bear the ecstasy.
To my mouth then they return,
Dripping love’s sweet dew .
I am branded with the feverish burn
Of these magic parts of you.
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BUTTERFLY
By Carl Martin Johnson
He fluttered in, bright vibrant hued,
Resting delicately on her arm,
As if in search of a lover long pursued,
Seeking by his beauty her to charm.
His comeliness did match her own.
Creating a magnificent pair.
Both had an inner light that shone.
Both were exceeding fair.
She took him on her finger,
Lifting slowly to her face.
She felt their gazes linger.
She felt their hearts embrace.
Was he in former life her lover?
Was that why she felt so near?
Her mind searched to discover
Why they held each other dear.
He rose on quivering wings,
Brushing briefly her full lips.
Tiny kisses, sweet love stings
From the silk of his wingtips.
He hovered for a beat,
Though he knew he could not stay.
What they’d had was love complete,
But it was from another day.
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A POET TO HIS MUSE
By Carl Martin Johnson
I am the Poet, you can feel me.
My words live in your heart.
My verses are the real me.
And of each other we’re a part.
The love we have is rare,
Between poet and muse only.
Not an emotion we can share.
We are alone, but never lonely.
I paint new words each day,
With the blood hot in my veins.
Only you will know the way
I lay bare all my soul’s pains.
When you quiver at my words’ touch,
We are uniting once again.
For we poets love is such.
That is how it’s always been.
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LOVE WORDS
By Carl Martin Johnson
Let my words caress you.
Feel their loving touch.
They will arouse and bless you.
Hold your body in their clutch.
Tremble with desire
At the ardor of my verse.
They will set your flesh on fire.
Unwilling moans they will coerce.
Every syllable a code
That no one else can see.
Each single one bestowed
With sexuality.
My lines slide over your skin,
Sending you into rapture.
Sensuous verbal sin
Will first tempt, then capture.
My words are warm hands on you.
In your valleys, over your hills.
‘Til erotic urge has drawn you
To me for passion’s thrills.
My verbiage casts strange spells.
With joy you will give your treasure.
As we flow where ecstasy dwells.
And drown ourselves in pleasure.
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THE RED DRESS
By Carl Martin Johnson
Tonight Roxanne will dress in red
To advertize her trade.
Her body live, but soul half dead,
In her nightly love charade.
She’ll patrol the boulevard,
Eyes out for men of means.
Wondering how life grew so hard,
Filled with cheap B-movie scenes.
Years ago there was a boy.
She can’t recall his face.
Back then she could still know joy.
It was another time and place..
The only love now she can feel
Is shot into her veins.
Even that can never heal
Her self-inflicted pains.
But her prince comes in her dream.
He will carry her off one night.
In his arms , on a silver beam
Of the morning star’s pure light.
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