LOVE SONG Poetry   --  "Men and Women in Lust and Love - Poems of Love, Lust, Romance, and Heartbreak"

 

© Carl Martin Johnson, All rights reserved

 
 
THE SEARCHER
By Carl Martin Johnson

The Texan rode a spotted horse.
He sat the saddle tall and high.
You could sense a strong but gentle force
As the horseman passed you by.

He cantered into my hometown
When I was just a boy.
I watched him rein in and climb down,
And smile with eyes that held no joy.

Silver dressed his saddle.
Silver rimmed his spurs.
They made a kind of rattle,
Like a cougar when it purrs.

Dust covered the black hat he wore,
From days out on the trail.
It shaded the long scar he bore
Down his face like lightning pale.

On his hip rode a holster filled with steel,
Looking used hard, but well-tended.
The sight of it made me feel
That with it many lives had ended.

Through a café window I watched him sit
At a table all alone
Looking out so his vision would permit
All those approaching to be shown.

He drank coffee from his cup,
Eyes fixed on a locket in his hand.
I never saw him once look up.
It was hard to understand.

For an hour he was still,
Like a statue carved from rock.
I stood and watched until
I saw a new hour on the clock.

By then my interest had declined.
But, as I turned to go,
I heard riders from behind.
From their gallop, I watched them slow.

Four men on mounts run hard
Jumped down and tied their reins.
They looked grim and on their guard,
Like cold blood ran in their veins.

The Texan raised his head
To see the men outside.
His eyes went hard and dead,
Then his left hand opened wide.

I saw the locket in his palm,
Silver like his spurs.
He looked at it, long and calm,
Then I saw something in him stir.

One rider checked the spotted mare,
And nodded to the others.
They pulled their guns with care,
Four death-dealing brothers.

The Texan cleared the doorway,
Six-gun roaring as he moved.
He was fast and good at gunplay,
That his sure, quick killing proved.

Two riders dropped into the dirt.
The others firing, but dropped back.
The Texan was hit and hurt,
But he stood and reloaded for attack.

More lead flew, flesh ripped and tore.
Gunsmoke fogged my view.
All three reloaded and fired some more.
One fell, now just stood two.

The Texan bled from many holes.
The rider bled from more.
Both their guns had taken tolls.
Both men poised on eternity’s shore.

Then the rider’s gun clicked hollow.
His face froze and he knew.
He tried, but could not swallow.
His living time was through.

The Texan’s blood was spilling.
He was weak, but standing ground.
He was not yet done with killing.
He raised his arm and fired the round.

The last rider jerked and fell,
Soul flying to Satan’s care.
He joined his brothers down in Hell.
But the Texan could not call the debt owed square.

What he had lost was gone forever.
Dreams buried in the dirt.
The Texan knew he’d never
Recover from the hurt.

He dragged onto his saddle,
Left hand trying for his pocket.
In the pain of throwing his leg astraddle,
He did not see he’d dropped the locket.

I was scared, but I ran over.
I took the locket and raised it high.
There was a Star of Texas on the cover,
Inside why the riders had to die.

The Texan looked me in the eyes.
I now understood his taking life.
He rode away with the locket that held his prize,
The portrait of his child and wife.
 
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SHE MOVES IN BEAUTY
By Carl Martin Johnson

She moves in beauty fair,
Wears her loveliness like a crown.
My eyes stroke her from toe to her hair,
Her silken skin like a goddess’ gown.

Over my easel I see her,
Eyes shining like precious stones.
All women would kill to be her,
Her figure sculpted perfectly over her bones.

The subject is too fine for my art,
Too divine for my poor brush to capture.
She is so much a species apart,
I am frozen in love-induced rapture.

I dare not declare myself to her.
I fear she would laugh in my face.
Only a god would be worthy to woo her,
Not a man of this low human race.

So I will worship secretly at Beauty’s altar.
I will keep my adoration within.
My devotion will never falter.
And love will be my only sin.

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IN A DREAM
By Carl Martin Johnson

I met you in a dream last night
You never told your name.
Yet you made my heart take flight,
And set my soul aflame.

Your eyes were full of laughter.
Their joy near made me cry.
I was immune to hurt thereafter.
We were in Heaven, you and I.

I am writing this to find you,
Hoping you’ll see and come again.
I’ll be there, right behind you.
We’ll open the dreamdoor and go in.

This time we will not wake.
We’ll make the dreamworld real.
You’ll come alive for our love’s sake.
I know with you again I’ll feel.

 

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WHEN
By Carl Martin Johnson

We loved each other long ago,
Briefly, but full well.
How did our romance lose its glow?
What could our hearts’ fire quell?

The sun rose for us only.
It set so we could sleep.
We knew we would never be lonely,
Our love was so strong and deep.

Then over us swept a cold wind.
Its frigid source unclear.
That which we thought could not end
Was if it had never been here.

Some nights now I think of you,
When I lie sleepless in my bed.
I wonder if you do that, too,
And if your tears were ever shed.

I have felt love’s embers smolder,
Though they never grow to flame.
They dim and again grow colder.
What a pity! What a shame!

 

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TOUCH ME
By Carl Martin Johnson

Touch me softly with your fingers.
Run them slowly down my chest.
Fire of our lovemaking lingers.
The flames will rise again with rest.

Your lips part to take my tongue,
To let your sweet one play with mine.
To the winds all inhibitions flung.
Our mouths wet with lovers’ wine.

Rake your nails across my flanks.
Please me with the pain.
While I whisper my hoarse thanks,
As my strong thighs flex and strain.

Then let your hands roam free.
Bring me slowly to ecstasy’s peak.
Unlock my passion with your key.
Give us both the joy we seek.

 

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WHY DID YOU GO?
By Carl Martin Johnson

Last night you were here.
My arms were wrapped around you.
How could you so soon disappear,
When I’ve only just now found you?

All my life I’ve been looking for you.
I almost gave in to despair.
Then you came and I adore you.
My heart for you I have laid bare.

This dawn finds me alone,
Abandoned with no goodbye.
You are the only love I’ve known.
Now I’m too grieved to cry.

There is no hope for your return.
I’ll stay alive, but with no spark.
Nothing in my soul to burn,
No fire to light the dark.

Death may not be the end.
Perhaps you are there waiting.
If so, Death come be my friend.
Be not cruelly hesitating.

Yet I have had a taste.
A brief sip of true love’s wine.
Living was not a waste.
I’ve had a glimpse of the Divine.

 

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A PLEA TO PASSION
By Carl Martin Johnson

Passion you are golden.
That came as a surprise.
I thought you might be emerald green,
Like the color of my darling’s eyes.

This is not our first encounter.
I’ve nodded to you before.
But we’d scarcely made acquaintance
When you flew out the door.

I pray this time it’s different,
That you stay and keep me true.
This woman is the love I need.
It all depends on you.

I know that you might leave.
You are too wild to control.
If so I would forever grieve.
You would take with you my soul.

 

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RETALIATION
By Carl Martin Johnson

I kiss her in full heat,
Yet, her lips they have your taste.
My swollen loins she’ll soon deplete
Though my passion is misplaced.

You are lying with another man.
Your bodies sweating as they entwine.
Who knew when our affair began,
We would drink vinegar with the wine.

He is making you convulse.
You are human…cannot hold in.
The writhing feeds your racing pulse.
All the stronger for being sin.

The woman I hold makes me move.
Wild beasts, she and I mate.
Like you, it seems I want to prove
As well as love, I can make hate.

 

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THE SHARED UMBRELLA
By Carl Martin Johnson

That day will never leave me.
Such beauty in the storm.
Memory of time lost to grieve me,
Yet always leave me warm.

There was no shelter on the ferry
From the cold and drenching rain.
The harsh wind made me wary
The sharp drops caused me pain.

When a girl gave me a smile
And moved her umbrella to share.
It had been a while
Since a stranger showed such care.

She had an ordinary face,
Save for the kindness in her eyes,
And the gentle natural grace
That makes a soul seem wise.

I did not fall in love,
But she made me glow inside.
Like an angel I’d dreamed of
Had come to be my guide.

It was only a short time,
Then we parted at the pier.
I’ve still not heard love’s bells chime,
But I think I have come near.

 

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GOOD SINS
By Carl Martin Johnson

My sins with you are good sins.
They are anointed with our love.
They are understood sins,
By all the gods above.

Our touches are hot fire.
They set our bodies burning.
Fueled by our desire.
Fanned by winds of yearning.

The passion in our caresses
Creates our private paradise,
Where all nature blesses
What this world thinks is vice.

As our warm lips travel
Hungrily over our skin,
Our inhibitions will unravel,
And we’ll make virtue of our sin.

If we be damned, so be it.
We are slaves of righteous lust.
The god Eros shall decree it.
All love’s sins are just.

 

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THE MEETING PLACE
By Carl Martin Johnson

 

Moonlight spilled like buttermilk
Across the river walk.
The silence spread an unseen silk,
Muffling night ghosts’ talk.

 

It’s been years since I first was here.
To me it is a shrine.
Some memories are eternally dear.
This place holds the best of mine.

 

On that bench I took her hand,
And asked her to be my wife.
We had a happy future planned,
But we were hit by Life.

 

Each anniversary of that night
I walk here and wait,
Hiding in shadows from the light,
So she will come. She’s never late.

 

In the starlight glow I see her now.
She will pass without a sign.
Ghostly vague, but It is her I vow.
The woman who was mine.

 

I know she is an incorporeal wraith.
Beyond my human embrace.
Yet it gives my desperate love hope and faith
That she remembers our meeting place.

 

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THE FIRE IN HER EYES
By Carl Martin Johnson

Love’s fire burns brightly in her eyes.
She is ready for my touch.
She is my life’s most precious prize.
I cannot have too much.

She trembles in anticipation.
Her lips hot embers as we kiss.
Her body feverish with celebration.
No love more passionate than this.

What she needs I will give her.
What she craves I too desire.
What she wants I will deliver.
We will burn in erotic fire.

When our ardor wanes,
Her eyes will softly glow.
I will see that love remains.
That is all I’ll need to know.

 

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WHEN HE TOUCHED HER
By Carl Martin Johnson

When he touched her she felt new,
Cleansed of her troubled past,
As if his love was true,
As if this love would last.

 

His hands were gently strong,
Protecting her from harm.
She would forever there belong,
Within his grasp so warm.

 

Other lovers had abused her.
Took her, then were gone.
Why they never stayed confused her,
Made it hard to carry on.

 

She had nearly reached her end.
Sweet death seemed so inviting.
Until she found this loving friend
Who made life again exciting.

 

It did not matter much
That she’d wake up to find
Her lover and his touch
Existed only in her mind.

 

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THE KISS
By Carl Martin Johnson

It was just a little kiss,
Not first love’s burning flame.
But now and then I reminisce
On that moment all the same.

Her eyes were emerald green,
They sparkled with pure joy.
Never had been seen
A happier girl or boy.

It was a moment I hold dear,
Full of innocence and youth.
Through life’s tragedy and fear,
And living’s cold hard truth.

She has always held a place,
A tiny box in my heart,
Although I scarce recall her face
For all the years we’ve been apart.

I escape to that sweet second
When the world has got me down.
Her honeyed lips have ever beckoned,
Coaxing a smile from my frown.

That time will always last,
But today I learned she’d died.
So I clutched the memory fast,
Closed my eyes, and cried.

 

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SIRENSONG
By Carl Martin Johnson

She calls me in the night,
Tempts me with her ghostly charms.
I try, but cannot fight.
I must have her in my arms.

Her dark beauty resurrects me,
Fires my loins and heats my soul.
She sensually perfects me,
Makes my desires whole.

I pray dawn will never come.
For then my love will leave me.
Vanishing back where she came from.
More than death will sorely grieve me.

To other women I am lost.
Her seduction is complete.
For loving a phantom there is a cost.
Only for her will my heart beat.

So I go early to my dreams,
To await her siren song.
She comes clothed only in moonbeams.
She never stays for long.

 

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