Innocence.

[MysticalWriter]

Warning! This Poem may be suggestive and may be inappropriate for some ages.




Innocence- November 2006

I gaze out into the world,
Peering through eyes of youth,
Absorbing all that they see.
Thinking of all I do not understand.
I learn, I grow, I mature.
I walk around analyzing- always thinking.
Interest swells within me to understand everything;
TO experience everything- to fulfill the curiousity.
...
I touch her lips. The innocence of a first kiss.
Im overjoyed, satisfied by experience.
My senses tingle, my soul leaps.
I again hold her close,
I softly touch them once again.
...
I lie here with her under me breathing heavily,
After what seemed to be the greatest thing in life.
Innocence is now covered by knowledge.
My fingers slowly, gently move across her body,
Discovering all that has been a mystery.
I caress her breasts as she gives herself over to me-
Trusting me.
I long to always be with her,
To always keep her with me.
She is no longer a mystery, but a book that I have studied,
And a book I have treasured, and held.
...
"I do," resounds through the cathedral as I take vows
TO the love of my life. She is not, my first love.
...
In the haven of life, I take hold of the woman before me.
She is pure, innocent.
As she hesitates, I whisper,
"Love, it's ok. Trust me."
She presses herself against me, finding comfort,
Knowledgeable of what she is now willingly losing,
With that she begins to brush her cheecks against mine.
I remove her pure white dress revealing an uncharted map,
A never before seen body.
She kisses me lightly,
Falls back on our bed, and surrenders herself to me.
I make love with my true love.
...
What I have enjoyed has been polluted.
I gaze out into the world,
Peering through eyes of experience,
Understanding everything they see.
I have learned, I have grown, I have matured.
I walk around, no longer intrigued.
Everything is no longer a mystery.
To experience everything, only to fulfill the selfish desires of mine own heart.
...
The innocence of the first kiss will never be obtained again.

[MysticalWriter]

Three-two-one. May 26th, 2007

I am designed from within.
I am made from within.
I am considered great from within.
I watch and learn,
I recieve influence,
I share my wisdom.
They listen to the voice,
They listen to the words,
They listen to the song.
What do they see?
What do they hear?
What do they need?
I give, never take,
I give, never expecting,
I give, never desiring more.
I am a cross, whom they lean upon,
I am a fortress, where they feel safe,
I am a man, whom they trust.
That is it, I am a man.
I too need knowledge,
I too need you,
I too need wisdom,
I listen to your voice,
I hear your voice-wonderous,
I listen to your beat-understanding,
I recieve, when given,
I expect all when spoken too,
I desire more when deisre is tempting,
You are my cross, whom I lean upon,
You are my fortress, where I feel safe,
You are someone, whom I trust.
Relationships are not built on one thing,
But two things.
These two things are people.
Trust, Honesty, and Communication,
These three things are to be made up of two people,
One relationship.
Three to two,
Two to one,
One to everything.

[MysticalWriter]

Sitting here listening to the iPod play its constant songs,
Seems never to end.
Contemplating what all this is about, why I do it,
Seems never to end.
Each moment, each living second,
Seems never to end.

Every breath, every wasted minute,
The end counts down.
Conversations, meaningless topics,
The end counts down.
Mind, thought, action,
The end counts down.

Living what seems right, what seems moral,
What is right? What is moral?
Becoming what is influencing, forming,
What is right? What is moral?
Striving to fulfill my course of life,
What is right? What is moral?

Breathing the breath of life,
What is life?
Pondering the essence of myself,
What is life?
Judging where judgement is void,
What is life?

What is the point,
to live life, to have meaningless topics, to breath?
When all is said and done, vanishing is the finish line.
Growing older, growing stonger,
Truly decaying for the seemingly never ending end of what we call life- a life of rights and morals.

[andave_ya]

The first one was, sorry, nothing more than ok. There's nothing to differentiate it from other angsty teenage poems. The second one, however, is the best one of all your poems that I've read. The third one...I have to think about. I'll comment later.

[Pendragon]

Your first poem's last line might just redeem it, I think. You are not overtly graphic in your descriptions, and you recognize that you have taken something you can never give back, which I read as the point of your poem, based on that last line.

The second, I just don't get. I will be honest enough to say so.

And like Andyave, I'm thinking about the third.

Good luck!

Pen.

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