Short Love Poem

You mean so much to me-

and I just wanted

you to know

how very much I care...

Jamie Delere

You are Mine Love Poem

With soft still words I part
From cries within my heart
Energy soars from emptiness
Lost in thoughts of sweet caress
Pure Love your light surrounding me
Gives me peace of Samsara sea
As star pattern movements sway
Night's alight in love's array

Close your eyes and see
Inside you are all of me
I Know you are mine
Souls forever entwined
Breaths of you become my bliss
Nothing to hold, all to miss
Stopped in time with an Angel kiss
I am your all, in all of this

I love you so
As the wind driven snow
As the dawn's morning glow
You are love, all I know
As the moon's soft shine
As Earth's endless time
No reason or rhyme
I Know you are mine
Debbylyn and Barry

My lady's presence makes the roses red My lady's presence makes the roses red, Because to see her lips they blush for shame. The lily's leaves, for envy, pale became, And her white hands in them this envy bred. The marigold the leaves abroad doth spread, Because the sun's and her power is the same. The violet of purple colour came. Dyed in the blood she made my heart to shed. In brief: all flowers from her their virtue take; From her sweet breath their sweet smells do proceed; The living heat which her eyebeams doth make Warmeth the ground and quickeneth the seed. The rain, wherewith she watereth the flowers, Falls from mine eyes, which she dissolves in showers.

Henry Constable, poet

Sweetest Love, I do not go

Sweetest love, I do not go,

For weariness of thee,

Nor in hope the world can show

A fitter love for me;But since that

IMust die at last, 'tis best

To use myself in jest

Thus by feign'd deaths to die.

Yesternight the sun went hence,

And yet is here today;He hath no desire nor sense,

Nor half so short a way:Then fear not me,

But believe that I shall makeSpeedier journeys,

since I takeMore wings and spurs than he.

O how feeble is man's power,

That if good fortune fall,

Cannot add another hour,

Nor a lost hour recall!

But come bad chance,

And we join to'it our strength,

And we teach it art and length,

Itself o'er us to'advance.

When thou sigh'st, thou sigh'st not wind,

But sigh'st my soul away;

When thou weep'st, unkindly kind,

My life's blood doth decay.

It cannot be

That thou lov'st me, as thou say'st,

If in thine my life thou waste,

That art the best of me.

Let not thy divining heart

Forethink me any ill;

Destiny may take thy part,

And may thy fears fulfil;

But think that we

Are but turn'd aside to sleep;

They who one another keepAlive, ne'er parted be.

John Donne

I used to dream of eyes so blue
And loving arms to hold me.
I used to dream of heroic knights
And how gracious they would be.

I used to dream of how I wouldn’t settle
For anything less than best.
I used to dream of how he would majestically
Lay all fears to rest.

I used to dream of fairy tales,
How wondrous would they be
I used to dream of story books
All patterned after me.

I used to dream of a lot of things,
But the moment I met you,
I immediately stopped dreaming,
Because all of my dreams came true.
Tina Cerruti

Love at First Sight Poem

Are you the first drop of sunshine or a warm breeze on a winter night,

Are you the reflection of Aphrodite or the illusion of a man's dream,

Are you the brightest star of the universe

Or the reason for its existence,

Are you the quintessence of wealth or is mankind poor without you,

Are you the only wish of the living or the last hope of dying,

Are you the essence of a true life or is life purposeless without you,

Are you the prayer of the plagued ones

Or the medicine for the one in love,

Are you in the sparkle in man's eyes or the mirage of his sight,

Are you the music of the composer's heart

Or the only sonnet of a poet,

Are you the color of a tulip field or the pale softness of the moonlight,

Are you the vision of the blind ones or are we blind without you,

Are you the thirst of the desert sand or the first rain drop,

Are you love in its purest form or is love pure because of you,

Are you the echo of heavenly love or is love made heavenly by you,

Are you nature gazing from its own eyes

Or are you my love at first sight

Cyrus Hiramanek

First Love Poem

Waking, with a dream of first love forming real words,

as close to my lips as lipstick, I speak your name,

after a silence of years, into the pillow, and the power

of your name brings me here to the window, naked,

to say it again to a garden shaking with light.

This was a child's love, and yet I clench my eyes

till the pictures return, unfocused at first, then

almost clear, an old film played at a slow speed.

All day I will glimpse it, in windows of changing sky,

in mirrors, my lover's eyes, wherever you are.



And later a star, long dead, here, seems precisely

the size of a tear. Tonight, a love-letter out of a dream

stammers itself in my heart. Such faithfulness.

You smile in my head on the last evening. Unseen

flowers suddenly pierce and sweeten the air.

Poet Unknown

Romantic Poem by Edmund Spenser

One day I wrote her name upon the strand



One day I wrote her name upon the strand,

But came the waves and washed it away:

Again I wrote it with a second hand,

But came the tide, and made my pains his prey.

Vain man, said she, that dost in vain assay

A mortal thing so to immortalize!

For I myself shall like to this decay,

And eek my name be wiped out likewise.

Not so (quoth I), let baser things devise

To die in dust, but you shall live by fame:

My verse your virtues rare shall eternize,

And in the heavens write your glorious name;

Where, whenas death shall all the world subdue,

Our love shall live, and later life renew.

Edmund Spenser, poet

Sad Love Poem

Where My Books Go



All the words that I utter,

And all the words that I write,

Must spread out their wings untiring,

And never rest in their flight,

Till they come where your sad, sad heart is,

And sing to you in the night,

Beyond where the waters are moving,

Storm-darken'd or starry bright.

William Butler Yeats

Signs of Love Poetry

Symptoms of Love

Love is a universal migraine,

A bright stain on the vision

Blotting out reason.



Symptoms of true love

Are leanness, jealousy,

Laggard dawns;



Are omens and nightmares-

Listening for a knock,

Waiting for a sign:



For a touch of her fingers

In a darkened room,

For a searching look.



Take courage, lover!

Could you endure such grief

At any hands but hers?

Robert Graves

Romantic poetry for Love

If ever two were one, then surely we.

If ever man were lov'd by wife, then thee;

If ever wife was happy in a man,

Compare with me ye women you can

I prize thy love more than whole mines og Gold.

Or all the riches that the East doth hold.

My love is such that rivers cannot quench,

Nor ought but love from thee, give recompense.

Thy love is such I can no way repay,

The heavens reward thee manifold repay,

Then while we live, in love let's so persevere

That when we live no more, we may live ever.

Ann Bradstreet

Poem to Shy Lover

A Poem To My Shy Lover


Than of my sweet Love’s gentle gaze,

Could my own eyes behold a fairer sight

as she doth waken to my touch with languid smile;

Her longing limbs reach out from moonlit haze

and through the shrouded secrecy of night.



What thinkest thee, that scarlet-ornamented lips are still,

And worries hide their tempest there behind thy furrowed brow?

Dwell not upon some long-past right or wrong,

Or silent memories carried on a song,

but only that which promises all mortal satisfaction, here and now.



Fear not, my dear, that sunlight seeks to steal our precious time,

and so dispels the moon from peaceful reverie above.

Our passion, hidden by the night, will not be quieted by dawn

When shadows fade and daybreak threatens

to betray forbidden love.



If my desire and all too roguish longing thee think sinful,

then, by rights, I beg no mercy for my fate,

but offer up my heart, and pray that yours will find compassion

that our love, so cloaked in darkness, must be slave to fleeting moments,

and show pity for my wantonness and woebegotten state.



Deny me not, my wistful, winsome lover,

that which rids my soul of all its doubt and loathsome fear.

‘Tis but your warming touch that gives my heart its cause to beat

and holds the torch that lights my restless spirit’s flame

when thou art near.



But if it please thee to admit no all-consuming need of me

and cast no furtive glance my way when morning skies are bright,

Then I shall relegate my roguish wants and constant longing

to the wisdom of the darkness

and the shelter of the night.

FCM

Tender Love Poem

A Sonnet of the Moon


LOOK how the pale queen of the silent night

Doth cause the ocean to attend upon her,

And he, as long as she is in his sight,

With her full tide is ready her to honor.

But when the silver waggon of the moon

Is mounted up so high he cannot follow,

The sea calls home his crystal waves to moan,

And with low ebb doth manifest his sorrow.

So you that are the sovereign of my heart

Have all my joys attending on your will;

My joys low-ebbing when you do depart,

When you return their tide my heart doth fill.

So as you come and as you do depart,

Joys ebb and flow within my tender heart.

Charles Best

Romantic Sorrow Lines

The Ghost

PEACE in thy hands,

Peace in thine eyes,

Peace on thy brow;

Flower of a moment in the eternal hour,

Peace with me now.



Not a wave breaks,

Not a bird calls,

My heart, like a sea,

Silent after a storm that hath died,

Sleeps within me.



All the night's dews,

All the world's leaves,

All winter's snow

Seem with their quiet to have stilled in life's dream

All sorrowing now.

Walter De La Mare

Lost Love Poetry

You've Got To Hide Your Love Away

Here I stand head in hand

Turn my face to the wall

If she's gone I can't go on

Feelin' two-foot small



Everywhere people stare

Each and every day

I can see them laugh at me

And I hear them say



Hey you've got to hide your love away

Hey you've got to hide your love away



How could I even try

I can never win

Hearing them, seeing them

In the state I'm in



How could she say to me

Love will find a way

Gather round all you clowns

Let me hear you say



Hey you've got to hide your love away

Hey you've got to hide your love away

The Beatles

I Want Her Love Poem

If I were her lover,

I'd wade through the clover

Over the fields before

The gate that leads to her door;

Over the meadows,

To wait, 'mid the shadows,

The shadows that circle her door,

For the heart of my heart and more.

And there in the clover

Close by her,

Over and over

I'd sigh her:

"Your eyes are as brown

As the Night's, looking down

On waters that sleep

With the moon in their deep" . . .

If I were her lover to sigh her.



If I were her lover,

I'd wade through the clover

Over the fields before

The lane that leads to her door;

I'd wait, 'mid the thickets,

Or there by the pickets,

White pickets that fence in her door,

For the life of my life and more.

I'd lean in the clover—

The crisper

For the dews that are over—

And whisper:

"Your lips are as rare

As the dewberries there,

As ripe and as red,

On the honey-dew fed" . . .

If I were her lover to whisper.



If I were her lover,

I'd wade through the clover

Over the field before

The pathway that leads to her door;

And watch, in the twinkle

Of stars that sprinkle

The paradise over her door,

For the soul of my soul and more.

And there in the clover

I'd reach her;

And over and over

I'd teach her—

A love without sighs,

Of laughterful eyes,

That reckoned each second

The pause of a kiss,

A kiss and . . . that is

If I were her lover to teach her.

Madison Julius Cawein

Love for Life Romantic Verse

I sing the body electric,

The armies of those I love engirth me and I engirth them,

They will not let me off till I go with them, respond to them,

And discorrupt them, and charge them full with the charge of the soul.



Was it doubted that those who corrupt their own bodies conceal themselves?

And if those who defile the living are as bad as they who defile the dead?

And if the body does not do fully as much as the soul? And if the body

were not the soul, what is the soul?



The love of the body of man or woman balks account, the body itself

balks account,

That of the male is perfect, and that of the female is perfect.



The expression of the face balks account,

But the expression of a well-made man appears not only in his face,

It is in his limbs and joints also, it is curiously in the joints of

his hips and wrists,

It is in his walk, the carriage of his neck, the flex of his waist

and knees, dress does not hide him,

The strong sweet quality he has strikes through the cotton and broadcloth,

To see him pass conveys as much as the best poem, perhaps more,

You linger to see his back, and the back of his neck and shoulder-side.


The sprawl and fulness of babes, the bosoms and heads of women, the

folds of their dress, their style as we pass in the street, the

contour of their shape downwards,

The swimmer naked in the swimming-bath, seen as he swims through

the transparent green-shine, or lies with his face up and rolls

silently to and from the heave of the water,

The bending forward and backward of rowers in row-boats, the

horse-man in his saddle,

Girls, mothers, house-keepers, in all their performances,

The group of laborers seated at noon-time with their open

dinner-kettles, and their wives waiting,

The female soothing a child, the farmer's daughter in the garden or

cow-yard,

The young fellow hosing corn, the sleigh-driver driving his six

horses through the crowd,

The wrestle of wrestlers, two apprentice-boys, quite grown, lusty,

good-natured, native-born, out on the vacant lot at sundown

after work,

The coats and caps thrown down, the embrace of love and resistance,

The upper-hold and under-hold, the hair rumpled over and blinding the eyes;

The march of firemen in their own costumes, the play of masculine

muscle through clean-setting trowsers and waist-straps,

The slow return from the fire, the pause when the bell strikes

suddenly again, and the listening on the alert,

The natural, perfect, varied attitudes, the bent head, the curv'd

neck and the counting;

Such-like I love—I loosen myself, pass freely, am at the mother's

breast with the little child,

Swim with the swimmers, wrestle with wrestlers, march in line with

the firemen, and pause, listen, count.

Walt Whitman

I Love You Poem

Till we meet,

Time will just crawl,

The days will be spent in day-dreaming,

The nights in fantasy-land!

My heart beats at a slower pace,

Except when I hear your voice;

At first I was a little frightened

to share myself with you,

But you soon laid all my fears to rest.


Till we meet,

I know that I’ll miss you every moment of the day,

Minutes seem to be hours,

Hours run into months

Each month seems to stretch into eternity...

Sacrifices and compromises are the order of the day,

But hopefully one day, they too shall be gone.

I look up at the stars in the sky,

But I guess they’ll only sparkle brightly when I’m with you.



Till we meet,

Through the fog that envelops me,

I stare, sightless at the horizon knowing that you are right there,

The food I eat, tasteless,

Till you are there by my side to share it with;

I am tempted to drink myself into oblivion,

Hoping that will send me spinning into orbit

And maybe land in a place close to you...

Where your waiting arms gather me close, never to let go...


Till we meet,

I will not feel whole, my world seems incomplete,

Am waiting for that glorious day

When our eyes first make contact across a room,

And recognize each other instantly,

Wide smiles on our faces, almost breaking into a run

To cover the remaining distance and turn it into closeness.

Our bodies and souls collide in blissful memories

Of words oft-spoken virtually, but now translated into reality,

”I love you”....the words will take on another dimension,

Au revoir till we meet again in the real world....

Anonymous

Coleridge poem on love for her

O Lady! we receive but what we give,
And in our life alone does Nature live:
Ours is her wedding garment, ours her shroud!
And would we aught behold, of higher worth.

Than that inanimate cold world allowed
To the poor loveless ever-anxious crowd,
Ah, from the soul itself must issue forth
A light, a glory, a fair luminous cloud
Enveloping the Earth--
And from the soul itself must there be sent
A sweet and potent voice, of its own birth,
Of all sweet sounds the life and element!
Samuel Taylor Coleridge friendship poetry

Love Poem for Wife

HYMN TO LOVE

We are thine, O Love, being in thee and made of thee,
As thóu, Lóve, were the déep thóught
And we the speech of the thought; yea, spoken are we,
Thy fires of thought out-spoken:
But burn'd not through us thy imagining
Like fiérce móod in a sóng cáught,
We were as clamour'd words a fool may fling,
Loose words, of meaning broken.
For what more like the brainless speech of a fool,--
The lives travelling dark fears,
And as a boy throws pebbles in a pool
Thrown down abysmal places?
Hazardous are the stars, yet is our birth
And our journeying time theirs;
As words of air, life makes of starry earth
Sweet soul-delighted faces;
As voices are we in the worldly wind;
The great wind of the world's fate
Is turned, as air to a shapen sound, to mind
And marvellous desires.
But not in the world as voices storm-shatter'd,
Not borne down by the wind's weight;
The rushing time rings with our splendid word
Like darkness filled with fires.
For Love doth use us for a sound of song,
And Love's meaning our life wields,
Making our souls like syllables to throng
His tunes of exultation.
Down the blind speed of a fatal world we fly,
As rain blown along earth's fields;
Yet are we god-desiring liturgy,
Sung joys of adoration;
Yea, made of chance and all a labouring strife,
We go charged with a strong flame;
For as a language Love hath seized on life
His burning heart to story.
Yea, Love, we are thine, the liturgy of thee.
Thy thought's golden and glad name,
The mortal conscience of immortal glee,
Love's zeal in Love's own glory.

Lascelles Abercrombie

Edmund Spenser Love Poems

One day I wrote her name upon the strand,
But came the waves and washed it away:
Again I wrote it with a second hand,
But came the tide, and made my pains his prey.
Vain man, said she, that dost in vain assay
A mortal thing so to immortalize!
For I myself shall like to this decay,
And eek my name be wiped out likewise.
Not so (quoth I), let baser things devise
To die in dust, but you shall live by fame:
My verse your virtues rare shall eternize,
And in the heavens write your glorious name;
Where, whenas death shall all the world subdue,
Our love shall live, and later life renew.

Percy Bysshe Shelley Love Poems

The fountains mingle with the river,
And the rivers with the ocean;
The winds of heaven mix forever
With a sweet emotion;
Nothing in the world is single;
All things by a law divine
In another's being mingle--
Why not I with thine?

See, the mountains kiss high heaven,
And the waves clasp one another;
No sister flower could be forgiven
If it disdained its brother;
And the sunlight clasps the earth,
And the moonbeams kiss the sea;--
What are all these kissings worth,
If thou kiss not me?

Percy Bysshe Shelley

Famous Love Poems

The Passionate Shepherd to His Love
Come live with me, and be my love,
And we will all the pleasures prove
That valleys, groves, hills and fields,
Woods, or steepy mountain yields.

And we will sit upon the rocks,
Seeing the shepherds feed their flocks
By shadow rivers, to whose falls
Melodious birds sing madrigals.

And I will make thee beds of roses,
And a thousand fragrant posies;
A cap of flowers, and a kirtle,
Embroider'd all with leaves of myrtle.

A gown made of the finest wool,
Which form our pretty lambs we pull;
Fair lined slippers for the cold,
With buckles of the purest gold.

A belt of straw and ivy buds,
With coral clasps and amber studs,
An if these pleasures may thee move,
Come live with me, and be my love.

The shepherd swains shall dance and sing
For thy delight each May-morning:
If these delights thy mind may move,
Then live with me, and be my love.

Christopher Marlove (1543 - 1607), English Poet.