Love poems
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No Return
© William Matthews
I like divorce. I love to compose
letters of resignation; now and then
I send one in and leave in a lemon-
hued Huff or a Snit with four on the floor.
Do you like the scent of a hollyhock?
To each his own. I love a burning bridge.
Poem (The lump of coal my parents teased)
© William Matthews
The lump of coal my parents teased
I'd find in my Christmas stocking
turned out each year to be an orange,
for I was their sunshine.
Homer's Seeing-Eye Dog
© William Matthews
Most of the time he worked, a sort of sleep
with a purpose, so far as I could tell.
How he got from the dark of sleep
to the dark of waking up I'll never know;
The Love Sonnets Of Proteus. Part IV: Vita Nova: CXIV
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
A LATER DEDICATION
To her the sweetest, fairest, worthiest one,
Who the inspirer is of my new praise,
Whom lately once, one Autumn afternoon,
My Loss
© Augusta Davies Webster
IN the world was one green nook I knew,
Full of roses, roses red and white,
Reddest roses summer ever grew,
Whitest roses ever pearled with dew;
And their sweetness was beyond delight,
Was all love's delight.
Es Liegt Der Heisse Sommer
© Heinrich Heine
There lies the heat of summer
On your cheeks lovely art:
Sekhmet, the Lion-headed Goddess of War
© Margaret Atwood
Maybe there's something in all of this
I missed. But if it's selfless
love you're looking for,
you've got the wrong goddess.
Flying Inside Your Own Body
© Margaret Atwood
Your lungs fill & spread themselves,
wings of pink blood, and your bones
empty themselves and become hollow.
When you breathe in youll lift like a balloon
The Watchman
© Ada Cambridge
To mothers and to men;
To take him for our heaven-sent guide
On seas he never voyaged-wide
And wild beyond his ken.
Is/Not
© Margaret Atwood
Love is not a profession
genteel or otherwisesex is not dentistry
the slick filling of aches and cavitiesyou are not my doctor
you are not my cure,nobody has that
Helen of Troy Does Countertop Dancing
© Margaret Atwood
The world is full of women
who'd tell me I should be ashamed of myself
if they had the chance. Quit dancing.
Get some self-respect
Lines Written At Sea (I)
© Frances Anne Kemble
Dear, yet forbidden thoughts, that from my soul,
While shines the weary sun, with stern control
Variations on the Word Love
© Margaret Atwood
This is a word we use to plug
holes with. It's the right size for those warm
blanks in speech, for those red heart-
shaped vacancies on the page that look nothing
History of the Twentieth Century (A Roadshow)
© Joseph Brodsky
Ladies and gentlemen and the day!
All ye made of sweet human clay!
Let me tell you: you are o'kay.
Postcards
© Margaret Atwood
I'm thinking about you. What else can I say?
The palm trees on the reverse
are a delusion; so is the pink sand.
What we have are the usual
Dickens: Sonnets
© Algernon Charles Swinburne
CHIEF in thy generation born of men
Whom English praise acclaimed as English-born,
Mystery Of Mysteries
© Mathilde Blind
Is this the End? This handful of brown earth
For all releasing elements to take
And free for ever from the bonds of birth?
Or will true life from Life's disguises break,
Called to that vast confederacy of minds
Which casts all flesh as chaff to all the winds?
Thew Wind
© Dora Sigerson Shorter
What is thy message, could I seek
From thrall of this sad soul to break?
And if this pagan heart could speak,
What answer to thy passion?
The White Flag
© John Hay
I sent my love two roses, - one
As white as driven snow,
And one a blushing royal red,
A flaming Jacqueminot.
