Melanin Love
Understands my struggle
Quiets my torment
Embraces my emotions
Allows my peace to foment
Marinates in my passions
Delights in my expression
of my heart’s delight in her
For she is my connection
to my own soul.
-HymnAgen
HymnAgen
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CATEGORY
romance
Melanin Love
Understands my struggle
Quiets my torment
Embraces my emotions
Allows my peace to foment
Marinates in my passions
Delights in my expression
of my heart’s delight in her
For she is my connection
to my own soul.
-HymnAgen
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COMMENTS
2b2b2 says: Eloquent Share......Bravo....ONE |
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kavindra says: I think every woman wants to know she is this to a man! very nice ! |
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hymnagen says: Thank you both very much |
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DallasCowgirl says: It takes a black woman to know a black man. This is true. And this poem is the truth! |
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hymnagen says: #Respect UnderHisWings7 |
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wesnesby says: dig that |
OTHER POEMS WRITTEN BY HymnAgen
The Great PretenderThrough your peripheral did you notice my struggles maintaining focus on any distraction I could find when your attention was not mine? See I could watch you in them jeans move to The Blues swaying that thang to those bass grooves and guitar twangs like you were food feeding my soul… Yet, I tried to mask the loss of my control over my feelings and hide my stolen glances at your thighs. Was I caught stealing? I’m sure the other matrons have suspicions; I can’t give them confirmation like that somehow makes a difference. Still, I played my position while I harbored wayward thoughts. Yes, discretion was my mission yet, I wonder if you caught me wanting you like I was 21 again. I can’t act grown with you around So I pretend as if I am… -HymnAgen |
Extrasensory PerfectionI have seen her by the glow of ballerina’s on their toes atop wicks of paraffin as dancing shadows on her skin of ochre highlights painting contours of burnt umber
And I have felt the tremors deep within her valley to her peaks metamorph eloquent parlance into verse she would beg pardoned for fear it stirs her Grans eternal slumber
Yes she overloads my senses like poor flesh against expensive satin sheets and pillow shams of woven silk in brillo-ed hands Thank the gods she loves a man with ragged edges…
-HymnAgen |
Favorite ColorMy favorite color? That bluish hue the yellow moon bathes her mocha skin in when it filters through my bedroom window - HymnAgen |
But Yet, So FarIt pains a man to want what he can’t have. To reach what he can’t grasp. To smell what he can’t taste. To gaze upon a face that adores him, but implores him not to press the way her memory of him against her flesh makes her give in to errant thoughts of would have, should have, could have beens….
- HymnAgen |
EmoceansWhen we chat it’s like the early days come flooding back in tidal waves to drag me into open seas of emotions – adrift in the ocean breeze of her familiar voice. I wade when we chat like I did in those earlier days.
- HymnAgen |
Sweetened CoffeeI live to see this. Your smile is the sweetness in my bitter coffee days… That ray of gold that warms my soul when things don’t go my way… That flooding light that clears my path, heat from the Sun in which I bask, and when accompanied by your laugh… like cold ice cream in a warm glass… it melts me. Just the memory of it helps me Through my toils and my tasks. Giving me something meaningful to run to – to come home to. Indeed, I need it Please, believe this for your smile is the sweetness in my bitter coffee days.
-HymnAgen |
DaydreamingI had an affair with the scent of her hair, With the thought of her yoni embrace, with the sight of her flesh and the taste of her breath on my face, with the warmth of her waist on my palms. The want in my slacks growing strong has my warning bells sounding alarms. The good man in me needs to avoid her... - HymnAgen |
That ItchYou know that itch so deep in your ear you drop everything and search everywhere for something long but gentle enough to use to scratch it?
And once you get it, you know how it feels so frickin’ good it gives you that chill that shakes your head just before your entire being relaxes?
That's how good it felt when you told me you still love me...
- HymnAgen
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When It's RealWhen it’s real,
there is no shame in being claimed.
There’s an appeal in the staking –
the feel of being wanted and needed permeating your being…
feeding your security…
Believing the affection you’re receiving with the surety of holy prophets in prayer.
No matter the distance, love always feels
near
under those conditions.
So nothing feels
weird
about being claimed
when
it’s
real. <... |
StarlightAs does the sun, her smile saves me from fading into shadows like nothingness…
- HymnAgen |