Love poetry Edit 2.0 leah S., erthona,mercedes, none

[StanleyZ]

Fresh words of love are hesitant, a kiss too soon meets ice;
like glass upon your picture keeps my lips from touching you.
A poet's love of words may woo, but rarely will entice;
best keep them in some secret place, well hid from cynic's view.

You who lampoon the love-struck loon with cliche cry and claim,
forget that once the flame has left your black and empty grate,
strange chill sets in, hot blood runs thin, and though you spew disdain,
whatever spittle you may spray, will fail to sublimate.*

Embrace, then, words of those in love, who found what once was lost;
the endless searcher, thwarted soul, bereaved, bereft, alone;
youths broken by their bleeding hearts, dismayed when first time crossed.
Begone the censorship of love, write on lovelorn, write on!
tectak
2014

I love the meaning of your poem. The speaker is encouraging love poetry even though it is in vein. It's like something you have to do whether or not it will yield the desired result. Dare I mention that to say "Bereaved, Bereft, alone" is redundant? If creating tension through the redundancy was your goal, then I can understand, after all, what is more redundant than a love poem? I wish I could mention further a word of improvement, but your meter is impeccable here. I love it.