Holy Emotionsby Author / Vincent de Paul
A Collection of Love Poetry
Vincent de Paul
The right by Vincent de Paul to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the international copyright laws and Copyright Act Cap. 130 laws of Kenya.
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TABLE OF CONTENTS
1.Sonia Meets Sam
4.Story of Love
5.Music of the Sun
9.Better Never Again
10.A Long Time Ago
13.Hasta la Vista, Babe!
15.Missing My Babe
16.Love is Wicked
23.To Love Again
31.War of Love
33.Crazy About You
37.Crime of Love
38.I Watched Her Leave
39.At Last We Met
40.I’m Not An Angel
41.The Holy Trinity of Love
44.The Last War
46.Rest in Peace, My Love
About the Author
Other Books by Vincent de Paul
Forever and for always!
My only love, sprung from my innocent heart,
Too early seen unknown, and known too late.
Prodigious birth of love it is to me,
That I ought to love a heart that knows no love.
Sonia Meets Sam
What a sad mistake you made
Life forever torn, never to be mend,
Chided the voice in him;
His sermon trailed
For the umpteenth time
When he looked her way
Marvelous beauty in the nave
Truly God’s handiwork.
Just watching him preach
Made her want to reach,
and touch him—yes, touch—
Something he was never going to allow;
She stared at him,
She oblivious to him,
the preacher she wanted, the preacher
She had fallen in love with.
Her Madonna face, dazzling eyes
Pouty lips, chubby cheeks
she’s beauty itself—Venus
From the pulpit the preacher saw
Wished he had never taken the vow
such crave wouldn’t be raw
Denied to him by vocation.
Man of such grace, and vitality
She thought from the nave,
I am sitting here
Yet I want to be over there
Wish I had seen him long ago
I wouldn’t be feeling this way:
She blushed, ashamed of herself.
“I’m Sam, as in Samson. Pleasure…” he said.
The service was over,
She couldn’t believe it , yet she said
“I’m Sonia, nice to meet you.”
The man of God, the angel,
invited her to the vicarage, and
Sam was of Sonia—SamSoni.
The cool linen sheets caressed her cheeks
and she smelt him and the aphrodisiac
the red wine he had drank her with
The acridity of his masculinity;
She stretched her hand for him, he was gone
The memories of it failed
Except for the all-too familiar voice
The voice of her little black heart
Echoing and reverberating inside,
“The devil is beautiful...”
She felt a soaring sense of victory, riotous appetite
For the sweet fruit of Eden;
Her ever clean white sheets were stained
The stain of shame
The stain of sin
The stain of the beautiful devil;
It was the trace of her maturity
Trace of sinfulness
Trace of her broken virginity.