Love poems

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The Coin

© Sara Teasdale

INTO my heart's treasury
I slipped a coin
That time cannot take
Nor a thief purloin,

Dream Song 1: Huffy Henry hid the day

Huffy Henry hid the day,
unappeasable Henry sulked.
I see his point,âa trying to put things over.
It was the thought that they thought
they could do it made Henry wicked & away.
But he should have come out and talked.

Jim the Splitter

© Henry Kendall

The bard who is singing of Wollombi Jim
Is hardly just now in the requisite trim
To sit on his Pegasus fairly;
Besides, he is bluntly informed by the Muse
That Jim is a subject no singer should choose;
For Jim is poetical rarely.

In The Hill At New Grange

© Robinson Jeffers

Great upright stones higher than the height of a man are our walls,
Huge overlapping stones are the summer clouds in our sky.
The hill of boulders is heaped over all. Each hundred years
One of the enormous stones will move an inch in the dark.
Each double century one of the oaks on the crown of the mound
Above us breaks in a wind, an oak or an ash grows.

Dream Song 14: Life, friends, is boring

© John Berryman

Life, friends, is boring. We must not say so.
After all, the sky flashes, the great sea yearns,
we ourselves flash and yearn,
and moreover my mother told me as a boy
(repeatedly) 'Ever to confess you're bored
means you have no

The Cloud's Swan-Song

© Francis Thompson

There is a parable in the pathless cloud,
There's prophecy in heaven,--they did not lie,
The Chaldee shepherds; seal-ed from the proud,
To cheer the weighted heart that mates the seeing eye.

Past One OClock ...

© Vladimir Mayakovsky

Past one oclock. You must have gone to bed.
The Milky Way streams silver through the night.
Im in no hurry; with lightning telegrams
I have no cause to wake or trouble you.

The Virgin Martyr

© Ada Cambridge

Every wild she-bird has nest and mate in the warm April weather,
But a captive woman, made for love - no mate, no nest has she.
In the spring of young desire, young men and maids are wed together,
And the happy mothers flaunt their bliss for all the world to see:
Nature's sacramental feast for these - an empty board for me.

The Ashes by Karin Gottshall: American Life in Poetry #21 Ted Kooser, U.S. Poet Laureate 2004-2006

© Ted Kooser

How many of us, alone at a grave or coming upon the site of some remembered event, find ourselves speaking to a friend or loved one who has died? In this poem by Karin Gottshall the speaker addresses someone's ashes as she casts them from a bridge. I like the way the ashes take on new life as they merge with the wind.
The Ashes

You were carried here by hands
and now the wind has you, gritty
as incense, dark sparkles borne

Back Home

© Vladimir Mayakovsky

Thoughts, go your way home.
Embrace,
depths of the soul and the sea.
In my view,

You

© Vladimir Mayakovsky

You came
determined,
because I was large,
because I was roaring,

Summum Bonum

HOW blest is he that can but love and do

And has no skill of speech nor trick of art

Attitude To A Miss

That night was to decide
if she and I
were to be lovers.
Under cover

My God And My Lord

Eyes are at rest, the stars are setting.
Hushed are the stirrings of birds in their nests,
Of monsters in the ocean.

To All and Everything

Above the capitals madness
I raised my face,
stern as the faces of ancient icons.
Sorrow-rent,
on your body as on a death-bed, its days
my heart ended.

Love's Enchantment

AS when two children, hand clasped fast in hand,

Explore the dimness of a fairy bower

Daphnis.
O Love! for Sylvia let me gain the prize,
And make my tongue victorious as her eyes;
No lambs or sheep for victims I'll impart,
Thy victim, Love, shall be the shepherd's heart.