Love Poetry

by Sirona 3 Replies latest jw friends

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  Sirona

  I'm feeling mushy today, so I will share a couple of poems I've come across that I like. Please post your nice love poems! or make one up?!

  I've Been Caught by Teresa Fiehn

  I've been caught swimming in his eyes again. Holding my heart so it doesn't break in his presence. I've been known to have to steady my breathing at his smile, as my own returns with red cheeks. As the subject of my never ending sentences, he calls upon pauses that should not be there. As my friend, he shares. His heart cannot mention my name. While my heart can only scream his. I've been seen caressing his skin with my gaze. Memorizing his shape. I've dreamt of how his lips round his words. As I replace friendship with love. My heart hangs heavy when I hear his voice. My pulse races with his scent. As he walks past, her on his arm. Unlike any of the others, he kills me and keeps me alive The Garden by Josie Walker Fear not, my sweet, Your walk I see In the garden serene nocturnally Out your life force flows To glimpse its reflection in the untainted rose The wind your white apparel blows As you glide, My body is limp by your side As you leave I feel My innermost soul cease to breathe Existance yet inanimacy
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  Vivamus

  Thou lingering star, with lessening ray,

  That lov'st to greet the early morn,

  Again thou usherest in the day

  My Mary from my soul was torn.

  A Mary! Dear departed shade!

  Where is thy place of blissful rest?

  Seest thou thy lover lowly laid?

  Hear'st thou the groans that rend his breast?

  That sacred hour can I forget?

  Can I forget the hallow'd grove,

  Where by the Ayr we met,

  To live one day of parting love?

  Eternity will not efface

  Those records dear of transports past;

  Thy image at our last embrace-

  Ah! Little thought 'twas our last!

  Ayr gurgling kiss'd his pebbled shore,

  O'erhung with wild woods, thickening green;

  The fragrant birch, and hawthorn hoar,

  Twin'd amorous round the raptur'd scene.

  The flowers sprang wanton to be prest,

  The birds sang love on ev'ry spray,

  Till too too soon, the glowing west

  Proclaim'd the speed of winged day.

  Still o'er these scenes my memory wakes,

  And fondly broods with miser care!

  Time but the impression deeper makes,

  As streams their channels deeper wear.

  My Mary, dear departed shade!

  Where is thy place of blissful rest?

  Seest thou thy lover lowly laid?

  Hear'st thou the groans that rend his breast?

  - Robert Burns
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  Incense_and_Peppermints

  The Indigo Bunting - Robert Bly

  I go to the door often.
  Night and summer. Crickets
  lift their cries.
  I know you are out.
  You are driving
  late through the summer night.

  I do not know what will happen.
  I have no claim on you.
  I am one star
  you have as guide; others
  love you, the night
  so dark over the Azores.

  You have been working outdoors,
  gone all week. I feel you
  in this lamp lit
  so late. As I reach for it
  I feel myself
  driving through the night.

  I love a firmness in you
  that disdains the trivial
  and regains the difficult.
  You become part then
  of the firmness of night,
  the granite holding up walls.

  There were women in Egypt who
  supported with their firmness the stars
  as they revolved,
  hardly aware
  of the passage from night
  to day and back to night.

  I love you where you go
  through the night, not swerving,
  clear as the indigo bunting in her flight,
  passing over two
  thousand miles of ocean.
• 

  Dutchie

  I love the writings of John Donne and this is one of my favorite love poems by him:

  John Donne

  14. The Extasie

  W HERE, like a pillow on a bed,
  A Pregnant banke swel'd up, to rest
  The violets reclining head,
  Sat we two, one anothers best.
  Our hands were firmely cimented	5
  With a fast balme, which thence did spring,
  Our eye-beames twisted, and did thred
  Our eyes, upon one double string;
  So to'entergraft our hands, as yet
  Was all the meanes to make us one,	10
  And pictures in our eyes to get
  Was all our propagation.
  As 'twixt two equall Armies, Fate
  Suspends uncertaine victorie,
  Our soules, (which to advance their state,	15
  Were gone out,) hung 'twixt her, and mee.
  And whil'st our soules negotiate there,
  Wee like sepulchrall statues lay;
  All day, the same our postures were,
  And wee said nothing, all the day.	20
  If any, so by love refin'd,
  That he soules language understood,
  And by good love were growen all minde,
  Within convenient distance stood,
  He (though he knew not which soule spake,	25
  Because both meant, both spake the same)
  Might thence a new concoction take,
  And part farre purer then he came.
  This Extasie doth unperplex
  (We said) and tell us what we love,	30
  Wee see by this, it was not sexe,
  Wee see, we saw not what did move:
  But as all severall soules containe
  Mixture of things, they know not what,
  Love, these mixt soules, doth mixe againe,	35
  And makes both one, each this and that.
  A single violet transplant,
  The strength, the colour, and the size,
  (All which before was poore, and scant,)
  Redoubles still, and multiplies.	40
  When love, with one another so
  Interinanimates two soules,
  That abler soule, which thence doth flow,
  Defects of lonelinesse controules.
  Wee then, who are this new soule, know,	45
  Of what we are compos'd, and made,
  For, th'Atomies of which we grow,
  Are soules, whom no change can invade.
  But O alas, so long, so farre
  Our bodies why doe wee forbeare?	50
  They are ours, though they are not wee, Wee are
  The intelligences, they the spheare.
  We owe them thankes, because they thus,
  Did us, to us, at first convay,
  Yeelded their forces, sense, to us,	55
  Nor are drosse to us, but allay.
  On man heavens influence workes not so,
  But that it first imprints the ayre,
  Soe soule into the soule may flow,
  Though it to body first repaire.	60
  As our blood labours to beget
  Spirits, as like soules as it can,
  Because such fingers need to knit
  That subtile knot, which makes us man:
  So must pure lovers soules descend	65
  T'affections, and to faculties,
  Which sense may reach and apprehend,
  Else a great Prince in prison lies.
  To'our bodies turne wee then, that so
  Weake men on love reveal'd may looke;	70
  Loves mysteries in soules doe grow,
  But yet the body is his booke.
  And if some lover, such as wee,
  Have heard this dialogue of one,
  Let him still marke us, he shall see	75
  Small change, when we'are to bodies gone.