Love poems
/ page 1269 of 1285 /
Lament
© Dylan Thomas
When I was a windy boy and a bit
And the black spit of the chapel fold,
(Sighed the old ram rod, dying of women),
I tiptoed shy in the gooseberry wood,
I See The Boys Of Summer
© Dylan Thomas
I see the boys of summer in their ruin
Lay the gold tithings barren,
Setting no store by harvest, freeze the soils;
There in their heat the winter floods
Of frozen loves they fetch their girls,
And drown the cargoed apples in their tides.
Love In The Asylum
© Dylan Thomas
A stranger has come
To share my room in the house not right in the head,
A girl mad as birds
In My Craft Or Sullen Art
© Dylan Thomas
In my craft or sullen art
Exercised in the still night
When only the moon rages
And the lovers lie abed
Poem On His Birthday
© Dylan Thomas
In the mustardseed sun,
By full tilt river and switchback sea
Where the cormorants scud,
In his house on stilts high among beaks
If I Were Tickled By the Rub of Love
© Dylan Thomas
If I were tickled by the rub of love,
A rooking girl who stole me for her side,
Broke through her straws, breaking my bandaged string,
If the red tickle as the cattle calve
Before I Knocked
© Dylan Thomas
Before I knocked and flesh let enter,
With liquid hands tapped on the womb,
I who was as shapeless as the water
That shaped the Jordan near my home
Was brother to Mnetha's daughter
And sister to the fathering worm.
On A Wedding Anniversary
© Dylan Thomas
The sky is torn across
This ragged anniversary of two
Who moved for three years in tune
Down the long walks of their vows.
Deaths And Entrances
© Dylan Thomas
On almost the incendiary eve
Of several near deaths,
When one at the great least of your best loved
And always known must leave
Elegy
© Dylan Thomas
Too proud to die; broken and blind he died
The darkest way, and did not turn away,
A cold kind man brave in his narrow pride
A Letter To My Aunt
© Dylan Thomas
A final word: before you start
The convulsions of your art,
Remove your brains, take out your heart;
Minus these curses, you can be
A genius like David G.
A Child's Christmas In Wales
© Dylan Thomas
One Christmas was so much like another, in those years around the sea-town corner now and out of all sound
except the distant speaking of the voices I sometimes hear a moment before sleep, that I can never remember
whether it snowed for six days and six nights when I was twelve or whether it snowed for twelve days and twelve
nights when I was six.
Fern Hill
© Dylan Thomas
Now as I was young and easy under the apple boughs
About the lilting house and happy as the grass was green,
The night above the dingle starry,
Time let me hail and climb
And Death Shall Have No Dominion
© Dylan Thomas
And death shall have no dominion.
Dead mean naked they shall be one
With the man in the wind and the west moon;
When their bones are picked clean and the clean bones gone,
Potions
© Yusef Komunyakaa
The old woman made mint
Candy for the children
Who'd bolt through her front door,
Silhouettes of the great blue
Prisoners
© Yusef Komunyakaa
Usually at the helipad
I see them stumble-dance
across the hot asphalt
with crokersacks over their heads,
My Father's Love Letters
© Yusef Komunyakaa
On Fridays he'd open a can of Jax
After coming home from the mill,
& ask me to write a letter to my mother
Who sent postcards of desert flowers
Long Distance II
© Tony Harrison
Though my mother was already two years dead
Dad kept her slippers warming by the gas,
put hot water bottles her side of the bed
and still went to renew her transport pass.
V
© Tony Harrison
Next millennium you'll have to search quite hard
to find my slab behind the family dead,
butcher, publican, and baker, now me, bard
adding poetry to their beef, beer and bread.
