What are some beautiful love poems you could give me ?

That^ isn’t a poem, in my opinion, no offense meant.
Pablo Neruda has some good stuff like this one:

I Crave Your Mouth

I crave your mouth, your voice, your hair.
Silent, starving I prowl through the streets.
Bread does not nourish me, dawn disquiets me,
I search the liquid sound of your steps all day.
I hunger for your sleek laugh,
For your hands the color of the wild grain,
I hunger for the pale stones of your fingernails,
I want to eat your skin like a whole almond.

I want to eat the sunbeam flaring in your loveliness,
The nose, sovereign of your arrogant face,
I want to eat the fleeting shade of your lashes,

And I walk hungry, smelling the twilight
Looking for you, for your hot heart,
Like a puma in the barren wilderness.

P.S. You should also check out Keat’s love letters.

Romance by Rimbaud:
I

When you are seventeen you aren’t really serious.
– One fine evening, you’ve had enough of beer and lemonade,
And the rowdy cafes with their dazzling lights!
– You go walking beneath the green lime trees of the promenade.

The lime trees smell good on fine evenings in June!
The air is so soft sometimes, you close your eyelids;
The wind, full of sounds, – the town’s not far away -
Carries odours of vines, and odours of beer…

II

- Then you see a very tiny rag
Of dark blue, framed by a small branch,
Pierced by an unlucky star which is melting away
With soft little shivers, small, perfectly white…

June night! Seventeen! – You let yourself get drunk.
The sap is champagne and goes straight to your head…
You are wandering; you feel a kiss on your lips
Which quivers there like something small and alive…

III

Your mad heart goes Crusoeing through all the romances,
– When, under the light of a pale street lamp,
Passes a young girl with charming little airs,
In the shadow of her father’s terrifying stiff collar…

And because you strike her as absurdly naif,
As she trots along in her little ankle boots,
She turns, wide awake, with a brisk movement…
And then cavatinas die on your lips…

IV

You’re in love. Taken until the month of August.
You’re in love – Your sonnets make Her laugh.
All your friends disappear, you are not quite the thing.
– Then your adored one, one evening, condescends to write to you…!

That evening,... – you go back again to the dazzling cafes,
You ask for beer or for lemonade…
– You are not really serious when you are seventeen
And there are green lime trees on the promenade…

@everephebe – Poems, quotes, haikus, lyrics, short stories, etc.

Or try some Rilke or Rumi if they are more your speed.

Rainer Maria Rilke, Love Song:

How can I keep my soul in me, so that
it doesn’t touch your soul? How can I raise
it high enough, past you, to other things?
I would like to shelter it, among remote
lost objects, in some dark and silent place
that doesn’t resonate when your depths resound.
Yet everything that touches us, me and you,
takes us together like a violin’s bow,
which draws one voice out of two separate strings.
Upon what instrument are we two spanned?
And what musician holds us in his hand?
Oh sweetest song.

Rumi
Some Kiss We Want:

There is some kiss we want with
our whole lives, the touch of

spirit on the body. Seawater
begs the pearl to break its shell.

And the lily, how passionately
it needs some wild darling! At

night, I open the window and ask
the moon to come and press its

face against mine. Breathe into
me. Close the language- door and

open the love window. The moon
won’t use the door, only the window.

@everephebe – Beautiful, thank you.

@everephebe – I love Rumi. I forgot how incredibly beautiful his work was.

Really a Tori Spelling tattoo quote though @partyrock? :p

@everephebe – Oh my gosh I didn’t know it was Tori Spelling quote !! Did it really belong to her ? lol.

I posted it on my facebook and one of my friend’s mentioned Tori Spelling got it tattooed… I didn’t know if she had written it, or who the author was lol…......... don’t judge me for liking it o_O lol

It’s ok I’m a bit of a poetry snob. The Tori Spelling tat is half Shakespeare quote, from Romeo and Juiliet, & half I don’t know what. So… It’s all good the bard wrote some good shit.

I Love thee, I love but thee. With a love that shall not die. Till the sun grows cold, and the stars grow old.

~William Shakespeare

I used to have this awesome big book called “The something…... of time” (forgot the name of the book) and it had the most beautiful poetry I’ve ever read in my life…. I really wish I could find the book now. It’s somewhere in my mom’s attic just sitting waiting for me to find and open it again.

My love for you is a journey. Starting at forever and ending at never

“The heart has its reasons which reason knows not of.” -Pascal

“Even when I glimpse you for a moment, my tongue is stilled as speech deserts me, while a delicate fire is beneath my skin” -Sappho

“How on earth are you ever going to explain in terms of chemistry and physicsso important a biological phenomenon as first love?”
-Albert Einstein

“Let him kiss me with the kisses of his mouth, for his love is more delightful than wine.” -The Bible, Song of Songs 1:2

I wish I had that huge book :(

Does this sound romantic or depressing ? >>>>>

“I want to stay like this at least until the end. The world around is of no interest to me anymore, it’s enough for me to have you here and hug you like this, it’s enough for me a sign from you, a smile, a word, and a moment like this is worth an eternity. Start a fire and then lets remain alone.”

The Glove and the Lions by Leigh Hunt

King Francis was a hearty king, and loved a royal sport,
And one day as his lions fought, sat looking on the court;
The nobles filled the benches, and the ladies in their pride,
And ‘mongst them sat the Count de Lorge, with one for whom he sighed:
And truly ‘twas a gallant thing to see that crowning show,
Valour and love, and a king above, and the royal beasts below.

Ramped and roared the lions, with horrid laughing jaws;
They bit, they glared, gave blows like beams, a wind went with their paws;
With wallowing might and stifled roar they rolled on one another;
Till all the pit with sand and mane was in a thunderous smother;
The bloody foam above the bars came whisking through the air;
Said Francis then, “Faith, gentlemen, we’re better here than there.”

De Lorge’s love o’erheard the King, a beauteous lively dame
With smiling lips and sharp bright eyes, which always seemed the same;
She thought, the Count my lover is brave as brave can be;
He surely would do wondrous things to show his love of me;
King, ladies, lovers, all look on; the occasion is divine;
I’ll drop my glove, to prove his love; great glory will be mine.

She dropped her glove, to prove his love, then looked at him and smiled;
He bowed, and in a moment leaped among the lions wild:
The leap was quick, return was quick, he has regained his place,
Then threw the glove, but not with love, right in the lady’s face.
“By God!” said Francis, “rightly done!” and he rose from where he sat:
“No love,” quoth he, “but vanity, sets love a task like that.”

” If I had but an hour of love, if that be all that’s given me. An hour of love upon this earth, I would give my love to thee. ”

i carry your heart with me

i carry your heart with me(i carry it in
my heart)i am never without it(anywhere
i go you go, my dear; and whatever is done
by only me is your doing,my darling)
i fear
no fate(for you are my fate, my sweet)i want
no world(for beautiful you are my world, my true)
and it’s you are whatever a moon has always meant
and whatever a sun will always sing is you

here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life; which grows
higher than the soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that’s keeping the stars apart

i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart)

ee cummings

Wild Nights—Wild Nights!

Wild nights—wild nights!
Were I with thee
Wild nights should be
our luxury!

Futile the winds
To heart in port—
Done with the compass,
Done with the chart!

Rowing in Eden—
As the sea!
Might I moor, tonight,
In thee!

- Emily Dickinson

This has always been one of my favorites:

How Do I Love Thee? (Sonnet 43)
by Elizabeth Barrett Browning

How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.
I love thee to the depth and breadth and height
My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight
For the ends of being and ideal grace.
I love thee to the level of every day’s
Most quiet need, by sun and candle-light.
I love thee freely, as men strive for right.
I love thee purely, as they turn from praise.
I love thee with the passion put to use
In my old griefs, and with my childhood’s faith.
I love thee with a love I seemed to lose
With my lost saints. I love thee with the breath,
Smiles, tears, of all my life; and, if God choose,
I shall but love thee better after death.

She Walks in Beauty
by George Gordon Byron

I.
She walks in beauty, like the night
Of cloudless climes and starry skies;
And all that’s best of dark and bright
Meet in her aspect and her eyes:
Thus mellowed to that tender light
Which heaven to gaudy day denies.

II.
One shade the more, one ray the less,
Had half impaired the nameless grace
Which waves in every raven tress,
Or softly lightens o’er her face;
Where thoughts serenely sweet express
How pure, how dear their dwelling place.

III.
And on that cheek, and o’er that brow,
So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,
The smiles that win, the tints that glow,
But tell of days in goodness spent,
A mind at peace with all below,
A heart whose love is innocent!

Roses are #FF0000
Violets are #0000FF
All my base
Are belong to you

since feeling is first
e.e. cummings

since feeling is first
who pays any attention
to the syntax of things
will never wholly kiss you;
wholly to be a fool
while Spring is in the world

my blood approves,
and kisses are a better fate
than wisdom
lady i swear by all flowers. Don’t cry
—the best gesture of my brain is less than
your eyelids’ flutter which says

we are for each other: then
laugh, leaning back in my arms
for life’s not a paragraph

And death i think is no parenthesis

i carry your heart with me(i carry it in
my heart)i am never without it(anywhere
i go you go,my dear;and whatever is done
by only me is your doing,my darling)
i fear
not fate(for you are my fate,my sweet)i want
no world(for beautiful you are my world,my true)
and it’s you are whatever a moon has always meant
and whatever a sun will always sing is you

here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life;which grows
higher than soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that’s keeping the stars apart

i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart)

More accessible and light-hearted. (@SmashtheState: We agree on yet another issue.)

James Henry Leigh Hunt

Jenny Kissed Me

Jenny kissed me when we met,
Jumping from the chair she sat in;
Time, you thief, who love to get
Sweets into your list, put that in!
Say I’m weary, say I’m sad,
Say that health and wealth have missed me,
Say I’m growing old, but add,
Jenny kissed me.

And a different sort of love poem, also by Yeats.

A Cradle Song

The angels are stooping
Above your bed;
They weary of trooping
With the whimpering dead.

God’s laughing in Heaven
To see you so good;
The Sailing Seven
Are gay with his mood.

I sigh that kiss you,
For I must own
That I shall miss you
When you have grown.

So sweet and melancholy, @gailcalled. It makes my eyes mist.

Passion

Bathed in the light
Of a candle’s fickle flame
In a moment of passion
You call out my name

Two bodies separated
By nothing at all
In that moment of passion
Into my arms you fall

This kind of passion
Most lovers never know
For this kind of passion
Some would give all they own

Bathed in the light
Of a candle’s fickle flame
My soul and yours
Are one and the same

Russell D.

@GoldieAV16 Sorry for the duplicate! You obviously have good taste! :-)

@everephebe: I just found the Rimbaud in the original French…one I was not familiar with.

“Voilà qu’on aperçoit un tout petit chiffon
D’azur sombre, encadré d’une petite branche,
Piqué d’une mauvaise étoile, qui se fond
Avec de doux frissons, petite et toute blanche . . .”

He had to get a frisson or two in, didn’t he?

Thank you.

This is one of my favorites of Lord Byron’s.

From Anacreon
To His Lyre
by Lord Byron

I wish to tune my quivering lyre,
To deeds of fame, and notes of fire:
To echo from its rising swell,
How heroes fought, and nations fell;
When Atreus’ sons advanc’d to war,
Or Tyrian Cadmus rov’d afar;
But still, to martial strains unknown,
My lyre recurs to love alone.
Fir’d with the hope of future fame,
I seek some nobler’s hero’s name;
The dying chords are strung anew,
To war, to war, my harp is due;
With glowing strings, the epic strain,
To Jove’s great son I raise again,
Alcides, and his glorious deeds,
Beneath whose arm the Hydra bleeds;
All, all in vain, my wayward lyre,
Wakes silver notes of soft desire.
Adieu ye chiefs, renown’d in arms,
Adieu the clang of wars alarms.
To other deeds my soul is strung.
And sweeter notes shall now be sung;
My harp shall all its powers reveal,
To tell the tale my heart must feel,
Love, love alone, my lyre shall claim,
In songs of bliss, and sighs of flame.

And this is my favorite sonnet.

Love Is not All
By Edna St. Vincent Millay

Love is not all: it is not meat nor drink
Nor slumber nor a roof against the rain;
Nor yet a floating spar to men that sink
And rise and sink and rise and sink again;
Love can not fill the thickened lung with breath,
Nor clean the blood, nor set the fractured bone;
Yet many a man is making friends with death
Even as I speak, for lack of love alone.
It well may be that in a difficult hour,
Pinned down by pain and moaning for release,
Or nagged by want past resolution’s power,
I might be driven to sell your love for peace,
Or trade the memory of this night for food.
It well may be. I do not think I would.

Now down in the valley of Shneel
Lived a woman who loved to reveal
With her curtains well drawn
Standing bare as a fawn
She’d do this really neat trick with… Er, wait a minute.
Sorry, that may not be the type of love poem you meant. lol

@HungryGuy

LMAO!

@CaptainHarley: Wha’s so funny? And where is @HungryGuy‘s love poem?

Had I the heavens’ embroidered cloths,
Enwrought with golden and silver light,
The blue and the dim and the dark cloths
Of night and light and the half-light,
I would spread the cloths under your feet:
But I, being poor, have only my dreams;
I have spread my dreams under your feet;
Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.

William Butler Yeats

@CaptainHarley got it right with ‘How do I love thee’

I also love my national poet, Robert Burns and:
O my Luve’s like a red, red rose
That’s newly sprung in June
O my Luve’s like the melodie
That’s sweetly play’d in tune
As fair art thou, my bonnie lass
So deep in luve am I
And I will luve thee still, my dear
Till a’ the seas gang dry:
Till a’ the seas gang dry, my dear
And the rocks melt wi’ the sun:
I will luve thee still, my dear
While the sands o’ life shall run
And fare thee well, my only Luve And fare thee well, a while
And I will come again, my Luve,
Tho’ it were ten thousand mile.

Dance Me To The End Of Love

Leonard Cohen

Dance me to your beauty with a burning violin
Dance me through the panic ‘til I’m gathered safely in
Lift me like an olive branch and be my homeward dove
Dance me to the end of love, dance me to the end of love

Oh let me see your beauty when the witnesses are gone
Let me feel you moving like they do in Babylon
Show me slowly what I only know the limits of
Oh dance me to the end of love, dance me to the end of love

Dance me to the wedding now, dance me on and on
Dance me very tenderly and dance me very long
We’re both of us beneath our love, we’re both of us above
Dance me to the end of love, dance me to the end of love

Dance me to the children who are asking to be born
Dance me through the curtains that our kisses have outworn
Raise a tent of shelter now, though every thread is torn
Dance me to the end of love

Dance me to your beauty with a burning violin
Dance me through the panic till I’m gathered safely in
Touch me with your naked hand or touch me with your glove
Dance me to the end of love, dance me to the end of love
Dance me to the end of love

Last Gods by Galway Kinnell

She sits naked on a rock
a few yards out in the water.
He stands on the shore,
also naked, picking blueberries.
She calls. He turns. She opens
her legs showing him her great beauty,
and smiles, a bow of lips
seeming to tie together
the ends of the earth.
Splashing her image
to pieces, he wades out
and stands before her, sunk
to the anklebones in leaf-mush
and bottom-slime—the intimacy
of the visible world. He puts
a berry in its shirt
of mist into her mouth.
She swallows it. Over the lake
two swallows whim, juke, jink,
and when one snatches
an insect they both whirl up
and exult. He is swollen
not with ichor but with blood.
She takes him and sucks him
more swollen. He kneels, opens
the dark, vertical smile
linking heaven with the underneath
and licks her smoothest flesh more smooth.
On top of the rock they join.
Somewhere a frog moans, a crow screams.
The hair of their bodies
startles up. They cry
in the tongue of the last gods,
who refused to go,
chose death, and shuddered
in joy and shattered in pieces,
bequeathing their cries
into the human mouth. Now in the lake
two faces float, looking up
at a great maternal pine whose branches
open out in all directions
explaining everything.

@gailcalled

It’s still up there where he put it. I was laughing because he used the HTML code for the colors “red” and “blue,” and a somewhat obscure reference to a terrible translation of a statement by an evil warlord in a Japanese computer game.

Roses are red, and violets are purple.
Sugar’s sweet and so is maple slurple! : D

Love one another, but make not a bond of love:
Let it rather be a moving sea between the shores of your souls.
-Kahlil Gibran (1883–1931) from The Prophet, 1923

Now if only “The Prophet” would have listened to Kahlil Gibran!