Love poems
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you being in love... (XII)
© Edward Estlin Cummings
solemnly
myselves
ask "life, the question how do i drink dream smile
may i feel said he
© Edward Estlin Cummings
may i feel said he
(i'll squeal said she
just once said he)
it's fun said she
love is a place... (58)
© Edward Estlin Cummings
love is a place
& through this place of
love move
(with brightness of peace)
all places
i thank you God for this most amazing
© Edward Estlin Cummings
i thank You God for this most amazing
day:for the leaping greenly spirits of trees
and a blue true dream of sky;and for everything
wich is natural which is infinite which is yes
i like my body when it is with your
© Edward Estlin Cummings
i like my body when it is with your
body. It is so quite a new thing.
Muscles better and nerves more.
i like your body. i like what it does,
because i love you)last night
© Edward Estlin Cummings
clothed in sealace
appeared to me
your mind drifting
with chuckling rubbish
of pearl weed coral and stones;
if you like my poems let them
© Edward Estlin Cummings
then people will say
"Along this road i saw a princess pass
on her way to meet her lover(it was
toward nightfall)with tall and ignorant servants."
The Arrivals
© Sharon Olds
I pull the bed slowly open, I
open the lips of the bed, get
the stack of fresh underpants
out of the suitcasepeach, white,
The Clasp
© Sharon Olds
She was four, he was one, it was raining, we had colds,
we had been in the apartment two weeks straight,
I grabbed her to keep her from shoving him over on his
face, again, and when I had her wrist
Crab
© Sharon Olds
When I eat crab, slide the rosy
rubbery claw across my tongue
I think of my mother. She'd drive down
to the edge of the Bay, tiny woman in a
The Unborn
© Sharon Olds
Sometimes I can almost see, around our heads,
Like gnats around a streetlight in summer,
The children we could have,
The glimmer of them.
A Week Later
© Sharon Olds
A week later, I said to a friend: I don't
think I could ever write about it.
Maybe in a year I could write something.
There is something in me maybe someday
One Year
© Sharon Olds
When I got to his marker, I sat on it,
like sitting on the edge of someone's bed
and I rubbed the smooth, speckled granite.
I took some tears from my jaw and neck
Sex Without Love
© Sharon Olds
How do they do it, the ones who make love
without love? Beautiful as dancers,
gliding over each other like ice-skaters
over the ice, fingers hooked
The Old Women
© Arthur Symons
They pass upon their old, tremulous feet,
Creeping with little satchels down the street,
And they remember, many years ago,
Passing that way in silks. They wander, slow
Love and Sleep
© Arthur Symons
I have laid sorrow to sleep;
Love sleeps.
She who oft made me weep
Now weeps.
Kisses
© Arthur Symons
Sweet, can I sing you the song of your kisses?
How soft is this one, how subtle this is,
How fluttering swift as a bird's kiss that is,
As a bird that taps at a leafy lattice;
By the Pool of the Third Rosses
© Arthur Symons
I heard the sighing of the reed
In the grey pool in the green land,
The sea-wind in the long reeds sighing
Between the green hill and the sand.
To R.W.E.
© Emma Lazarus
As when a father dies, his children draw
About the empty hearth, their loss to cheat
With uttered praise & love, & oft repeat
His all-familiar words with whispered awe.
The Supreme Sacrifice
© Emma Lazarus
Well-nigh two thousand years hath Israel
Suffered the scorn of man for love of God;
Endured the outlaw's ban, the yoke, the rod,
With perfect patience. Empires rose and fell,
