Love Poems

. Tongues as of Fire If men desire to find belief, to sing It out through throats works best to make the soul Embrace it.  This will make the sought faith zing Behind their hearts and manliness’s whole. The...

. A Modernization of “To His Coy Mistress” You say we should some years delay The coming of our wedding day, But God commanded us to try To fruitful be and multiply. To make new life, we cannot shirk; The...

. Speechless I have smelt the perfect scent of the flower of a rose, Known intoxicated freedom where frangipani grows. Watched majestic rivers meet the wild and moody sea, And flown right over mountains where...

. Revelation You never see suspects admitting their guilt, __Or partisans stating they lied. You’ll never hear soccer stars fearing defeat, __Or macho guys saying they cried. In a world where the truth’s...

. Hymn to Aurora  1 Aurora, rise and cast your curls Of daybreak through the vapor swirls To drape my face in scarlet beams— Since you left me I’ve had bad dreams. Like waves, my sheets have tossed...

. Two Poems for White Day On White Day, March 14, men in Japan present white gifts to women, in return for the chocolates they receive from women on Valentine’s Day. White Day began in 1978 as a commercial...

. Little to Regret When Time has stilled my body __Think of me now and then, Asleep beneath the wattle, __Which flowers yet again. And as the summer follows __With rays I cannot see, Let the warmth embrace...

. When words are sharp, and clash like iron blades, I swallow swords. I grimace, turn away. You fear I wield a shield, that love will fade, That wordless I our promises betray. Yet iron sharpens iron, I have...

. You’re In Control In all, you’re in control; your imperious charms Have inspired a near-insatiable itch in my arms To reach and grasp and hold, in hopes to soothe, To bring our fire and ice together to...

. Tonight I Sail the Dreamy Sea Tonight I sail the dreamy sea Where we can find tranquility. The sails are set. The sea remote. Just you and I within the boat. I’ll sail to you and pick you up; Then we can...

. I’m Here __Your smile, it hypnotizes. It rises with the Inca doves and sun. __Sleep done, your love surprises And spices dawn with lush and precious fun. __Your widened eyes are fashioned In passion that...

.   https://youtu.be/3XWcnISYGSE . Rondel for Saint Valentine's Day by Geoffrey Chaucer (c.1340–1400) | modernized in the original lyric form by Margaret Coats Now welcome, springtime, with your gentle...

. An Oldie's Valentine Love Poem We met when she was seventeen, The fairest maid I’d ever seen. With eyes of blue and flaxen hair, My mouth agape, I had to stare, And wonder, if a girl like she, Would ever...

. To a Girl Named Olivia What shall I say to you of untold love In this more than empty space that lies between Our two selves wound in tongue-tied reticence? I have touched your hand in images and dreams, As...

. Aspects of Love . I. Unrequited a rondeau redoublé Tonight, my eyes are open and aware. The kiss I trusted was a lustful lie. I’m letting go of love that isn’t there. My heart holds dreams no...

. The 10 Best Love Poems of 2021 What makes a great love poem? Love is such an emotionally charged topic that the answers to that question are going to vary tremendously depending on who you ask. But all the...

. You Are Too Far from Me Send me your love for I’ve nothing to write,And my words are vacant or ugly---I slept through the morning, I raved out the night,And you are too far from me. I feel the entropy...

. Obsession an Alfred Dorn sonnet As candles gently glow in amber light The picture centered high upon the wall appears to take a life form of its own. Yet, thoughts of her are stronger on this night. He...

. Sadness Has Silent Feet Sorrow comes on softened steps, __But joy leaps madly in. Where is she with the golden hair __I would yet see again? Is she now like wind on braes __That sing the brae-wind song? Or...

. Reviewed Book: A Thing With Feathers, by J. John Nordstrom, independently published, 2021 by Andrew Benson Brown A Thing With Feathers is the debut novel of J. John Nordstrom (the pen name of Joseph J....

. Anyone But You The phone may ring; The call will bring __Anyone but you. The mail will come; It will be from __Anyone but you. A text may buzz; I’m sure it was __Anyone but you. Oh, this is dire; I...

. My Sonnet as Texted Her face, uplit as she scrolls through her phone, no feelings shown, she wears light like a mask. Have we two lives we share? Is each one’s own? Afraid that I know, I’m too scared to...

. Panic What is this feeling that sometimes afflicts Us with awful intensity and fear? A feeling close to panic, very near To dread, to terror; something that constricts The breathing, chokes the throat and...

. Lightning Could Strike Just when hope Is out the door, Has flown the coop, Has said “No more.” Just when "up" You have now "given," Just when life Seems so now riven. In she walks Her smile so...

. Daphne and Apollo “O foolish Cupid,” fair Apollo mocked. “To think that you, a wanton boy, should dare To think yourself the equal to a man Of arms, or even to a god like me, In putting arrows full...

. He was the stream and she the underbrush; The rain that fell upon his upturned face. She was the shadowed glade in evening's hush That memorized the sun, received its grace. She was the sea, and he the...

. We Sum total of all life is death, And breath sustains us for a time. We’ll live until we’ve spent God's dime. The meter's running faster still. No matter what we want or will, We’re always in His...

. Ballade for His Lady Deceased by Charles d’Orléans (1394–1465) Alas, Death, who made you so bold? My noble princess you possess; My life and comfort you enfold, My pleasure, wealth, and...

. https://youtu.be/eRp7_tqfxTs On Rumble here: https://rumble.com/vnvehl-a-poem-for-aging-beauties-endless-bloom-society-of-classical-poets.html?mref=iosaf&mc=6b8az Poet: Angel L. Villanueva of...

. In Love's Counting House by Charles d’Orléans (1394–1465) One day I asked my heart to heed A claim for pay that I commended, And we in secret soon agreed That he would tell, for pains expended In risky...

. Regret Hangs on Where Opportunity Once Existed There are lots of sad words we lament with such ease,But there’s none any sadder and mournful than these:I regret my decisions, and wish to go backTo that Y...

. The Untrue Artist “The true artist will let his wife starve, his children go barefoot, his mother drudge for his living at seventy, sooner than work at anything but his art” ---George Bernard Shaw I’ve...

. My Lips Have Kissed Her My lips have kissed her lips. Now I know why the timid sun arises with each day. I understand what moves the birds to fly and why the trees within the breezes sway. My lips have...

. The relentless rain sought to admonish those creatures who dared venture out. The wind carried a sorrowful message, determined to generate doubt. A less desperate man would have faltered on reaching that...

. from Eternal Spring Once upon a time in space God contrived the human race, Gave two things to help us cope: One was love, the other hope. Man was destined for a fall, But love sustained him after all. When...

. I stand upon the Bridge of Sighs as teardrops fill my weary eyes and think of life that used to be when she was still in love with me. I watch the river down below. My woes don't interrupt the flow. It...

. When softly my sustaining comfort stirs Herself to offer solace coveted, Advancing toward the left side of my bed With that sweet courtly reasoning of hers, In fearful homage all my being murmurs, “O...

. While Waiting Through the Night This morning, searching on the laptop, I Found notes I made upon the night she died. All through the darkest hours at her bedside That night I knew she knew her end was...

. Logic Class As class convenes I quickly indicate in clear logician's diction of my eagerness to share my disposition to determine if we're here or there, or if instead we're neither here nor there. A student...

. Will this reclaim the long-lost Muse perched on the tree of I.O.U.’s? Can I now join Miss E. B. Browning as she proclaimed her love---its counting? Her art’s not mine; I know that much. The years sped...