Love poems
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When the World as We Knew It Ended
© Joy Harjo
Two towers rose up from the east island of commerce and touched
the sky. Men walked on the moon. Oil was sucked dry
by two brothers. Then it went down. Swallowed
by a fire dragon, by oil and fear.
Eaten whole.
To a Reason
© Arthur Rimbaud
A tap of your finger on the drum releases all sounds and initiates the new harmony.
A step of yours is the conscription of the new men and their marching orders.
You look away: the new love!
You look back,—the new love!
Amoretti LXII: "The weary yeare his race now having run"
© Edmund Spenser
The weary yeare his race now having run,
The new begins his compast course anew:
What Became
© Wesley McNair
What became of any afternoon
that was so vivid you forgot
the present was up to its old
trick of pretending
it would be there
always?
Lines Composed a Few Miles above Tintern Abbey, On Revisiting the Banks of the Wye during a Tour. July 13, 1798
© André Breton
Five years have past; five summers, with the length
Of five long winters! and again I hear
Victims of the Latest Dance Craze
© Cornelius Eady
And mothers letting their babies
Be held by strangers.
And the bus drivers
Taping over their fare boxes
And willing to give directions.
For My Wife
© Wesley McNair
How were we to know, leaving your two kids
behind in New Hampshire for our honeymoon
Unholy Sonnet 1
© Mark Jarman
I can say almost anything about you,
O Big Idea, and with each epithet,
Create new reasons to believe or doubt you,
Black Hole, White Hole, Presidential Jet.
But what’s the anything I must leave out? You
Solve nothing but the problems that I set.
Inscription for a Gravestone
© Robinson Jeffers
I am not dead, I have only become inhuman:
That is to say,
To Kathleen, after Neruda
© Craig Erick Chaffin
your hips formed in India, your face
barely imagined by Da Vinci.
Your eyes threaten green lightning
from the Atlantic. You could crush me
from Upon Appleton House, to my Lord Fairfax
© Andrew Marvell
Within this sober frame expect
Work of no foreign architect;
Blue Ridge
© Ellen Bryant Voigt
Up there on the mountain road, the fireworks
blistered and subsided, for once at eye level:
Poem
© Katha Pollitt
I lived in the first century of world wars.
Most mornings I would be more or less insane,
Yarrow Revisited
© André Breton
The gallant Youth, who may have gained,
Or seeks, a "winsome Marrow,"
They Clapped
© Nikki Giovanni
they clapped when they took off
for home despite the dead
dream they saw a free future
Buick
© Ishmael Reed
As a sloop with a sweep of immaculate wing on her delicate spine
And a keel as steel as a root that holds in the sea as she leans,
Leaning and laughing, my warm-hearted beauty, you ride, you ride,
You tack on the curves with parabola speed and a kiss of goodbye,
Like a thoroughbred sloop, my new high-spirited spirit, my kiss.
The Dictionary of Silence
© Debora Greger
And in that city the houses of the dead
are left empty, if the dead are famous enough;
by day the living pay to see if dust is all
that befalls the lives they left behind.
