Love Poems

. Death Is But a Passing A death is but a passing from one world into another, A change of state, a change of place, a starting to discover, A test of fortitude perhaps for those I leave behind, A change of...

. Imitating Shakespeare’s Sonnet 107 . Sonnet 107 __by William Shakespeare Not mine own fears, nor the prophetic soul Of the wide world dreaming on things to come, Can yet the lease of my true love...

. Telepathy Your reticence to speak is no deterrent To my delight to be in your vicinity--- Presence and chatter need not be concurrent; Lack of the latter won’t change my affinity For your dark liquid eyes:...

. In a Twenty-minute Tuk-tuk Ride That day, the river of our luck had dried. No taxis. Air-conditioned buses crammed with half the town. Just when I said, "We're dammed," a tuk-tuk by the roundabout defied my...

. Madrigal à la Tasso The surface of the lake reflects the flight _Of one and then another swan; _How it would add to my delight __To know where each has gone, _As when, my love, I look upon Those rapid...

. The Force of Dreams I dreamed of you last night.  I dreamed and dreamed, Yet more, as if there never had been dreams In me before.  Reality it seemed Had never been reality.  Green dreams Of Eden never...

. Catullus XI Furius and Aurelius, my two friends, Whether I go to farthest India, The shore by ever-pounding Eastern seas Beaten by tide-waves, To Hyrcania, or Arabia’s pillowed ease, Scythia,...

. Coupled in Rhyme She sees me better than I do, so in her sight I strive to be worthy to lie with, never to lie to. She knows me better than my best, brings comfort to my days, makes manifest the loving balm...

. Observation ____Comes morning, __And fog fills the forest Where bluebirds are wet on the wings. ____The toadstools __Are soaking up moisture, One cricket in solitude sings. ____The fog lifts __And drifts...

. It’s Only a Thought It’s only a thought to help pass the night, But what if our love should come to naught? Christ! That would be an unbearable plight. __It’s only a thought. But thoughts can stir...

. Across a Strong Bridge upon the marriage of two friends In a weary world that's grown quite old, Where men grow weak, and thought grows cold, Two hearts can make one serious dent For virtue strong. As cool...

. The Loons of Colby Lake a true story As thawing white gave way to budding green, two loons upon the lake would mark the Spring, and they would build their nest, then teach their young how life was lived and...

. What Is Grief?  When we are plagued by grief, We only think of sorrow— The loss of a dear loved one Whom we won't see tomorrow. Tears haunt our swollen faces That burst and bare our souls. Nice words...

. “I Worship My Mistress, for I Have Seen Her Beauty” ---Egyptian Coffin Texts, spell 484---a poem for Linda It may be said that I am weak,That what I did was not from strength;Only I persevered because...

. Were She to Ask, and I Affirm Were she to ask, and I affirm That I'd still love her as a worm, I'd make it clear (because my dear Has Northern Cardinals to fear) The Robins and the Starlings Would die before...

. Just Like That No special words, no passionate embrace; No gazing, full of meanings, soul to soul. Just casual talk, not even face to face; Just mundane filling each of them their role. Perhaps they did...

. The Ghost Girl One sunny May, I ran to play, __When I was twelve years old, Upon the hill.  I miss her still— __A girl with curls of gold In ribbon ties, big sky-blue eyes, __And waving, dark-red...

. A Precious Wife Is Like Fine Wine A precious wife is like fine wine, made mellow with the years, Aged in a barrel made of smiles and laughter, sighs and tears. Though time may etch its lines upon her once...

. The Song of Everlasting Sorrow Tang Dynasty poet Bai Juyi (772-846) wrote this poem about Tang Emperor ("Son of Heaven") Xuanzong (685-762) and his famous concubine and former Taoist nun Yang Guifei, who is...

. Under the Umbrella inspired by “Le Parapluie” (“The Umbrella”) by Georges Brassens (1921-1981) Rain fell in waves throughout the street; A woman walked with no umbrella. I offered mine; in voice real...

. Unopened Letters Unopened letters strewn across the floor Addressed to me with your name on the back. Left where they fell inside my slotted door. A postal service-aided sneak attack. I step on them with...

. If I Have Gone To Sleep If I depart in early sleep__And cease to be with you,My thoughts I'd leave for you to read,To hold your hands in times of need,__to soothe your grieving too.I've written words you...

. Another Coffee Shop, Another Crush Another coffee shop, another crush, a moment frozen just before my turn, a chance to grin and let her make me blush, a true inscription on a Grecian Urn... The crowded room...

. The Meat Purveyor’s Son Aesthetically impaired, she was the heir to daddy’s fortune. She was plumpish, short and much too close together were the eyes. She hankered after marriage with a man to birth at...

. Ovid in Tomis Relegated, scorned, I languish here in this drab town. Unwitting, I caught sight of what must not be seen; my wretched plight, harsh exile from my laureate lettered sphere. The ancients tell...

. For Paavo Nurmi who trained against his stop-watch and in medias rez we begin as the runners approach the penultimate turn. Though their torsos are heaving, the sweat isn't beading—the storm of their pace...

. Stop All The Clocks after W.H. Auden Stop all the clocks, stop all humdrum, Silence the warblers, their constant hum; Bid the sun to pause, just stand by And the moon to remain in the starless sky. He was...

. Insomnia, My Sometime Muse She comes to me while I’m asleep,Not with strange imaginings of dreamsBut with fragmented thoughts. It seemsShe thinks they cannot keepBut must be worked upon, upon this...

. The Nymph by Luis de Góngora y Argote (1561-1627) translated by Alan Steinle As morning sunlight first began to show, a nymph went out to tread the verdant plain. Although she plucked some flowers for a...

. A Walk At Night She's clothed in light when she appears; Freckles speck her argent skin. Her dazzling smile is bright tonight, A lamp to earth's unhurried spin. I gaze at her ascending form And smile at her...

. Poems by Torquato Tasso (1544-1595) translated by Daniel Howard . O Darling Turtledove __Oh darling turtledove, __You for your partner pine, And I lament the one that was not mine. __Widow who lost your...

. Outside Chance I hold my heart out in my handpalm up, the same way one might offerseeds to birds. (They’d understandthe danger in the gifts I proffer:As tempting as the snack may be,if once their...

. The Name We Leave When we first breathe and start to peer, What we will be is still unclear. A book of pages yet unturned Is what we are when we appear. Whether assigned, purloined, or earned, And when a...

. Poem 101 by Catullus (circa 84-54 BC) translated by Bruce Phenix Conveyed through many countries, over many seas, to these poor funerary offerings I come to give you, brother, that last present for the...

. Crosses and Losses I tried to write a poem to acclaim The passion flashing like a lightning strike Between a man and woman, though the same Return to normal from a single spike. It’s hard to say true love...

. Contagious Joy a villanelle You always find a way to make me smile. Like sunlight tracing rainbows in the rain, Contagious joy is never out of style; The day we wed, when you walked down the aisle, You...

. Vintage Love Love is as a grape when it begins, Unblemished by the bruises and the sins That will come in time. For now it is Refreshing sweetness and delightfulness. Bewilderment accompanies the crush That...

. When? I’ll love you when the bee has lost its buzz, When wolf and bear have quit their howl and growl, When lambs don’t sport a snow-spun fleece of fuzz And hoots don’t float from barns that house...

. . February 14, 2024 A heart of burning love, an ashen cross Converge today: the marriage of two kinds Of love. The feast day is St. Valentine’s--- Which, this year, intersects Ash Wednesday: Eros United...

. Ash Wednesday Valentines by Charles d’Orléans (1394-1465), translated by Margaret Coats . I. Who’s there? Who comes so early, who? “It’s I myself.” Saint Valentine, you! Why turn up now at...