Favorite Poems


#1

Okay, just curious :smiley:

Even though I am an English and Creative Writing majors, and work at a library, I’m having a hard time finding good poems to share with my boyfriend :slight_smile:

What are your favorite poems? Links or the like would be awesome :slight_smile: (So I can properly cite the title and poet). What the heck, even awesome quotes would be greatly appreciated :thumbsup:

Specifically, I’m looking for nice love poems for an anniversary :slight_smile: I’ve been trying to look online and such, but so many of them don’t seem quite right, if that makes sense…Too many are quoted too often, like “How do I love you, let me count the ways” or the sonnets by Shakespeare. Also, many poems hint at sex, unfortunately. I’m looking for lesser known poems that are still just as sweet, and basically wholesome poems. It doesn’t matter if the poem talks about wedding or growing old together. I’ll file those away for future milestones, should God continue to bless us.

Thank you in advance for your input!


#2

I was going to say The Road Not Taken by Robert Frost was my favorite. However, then I came to the part about it having to be romantic and/or a love poem… :frowning: Sorry, love poems are outside my repertoire.


#3

I love that poem! I painted a picture based on it :smiley:
Don’t be sorry :slight_smile:
I appreciate your thought very much, still!


#4

How Do I Love Thee?
by Elizabeth Barrett Browning

How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.
I love thee to the depth and breadth and height
My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight-
For the ends of Being and ideal Grace.

I love thee to the level of everyday’s
Most quiet need, by sun and candlelight.
I love thee freely, as men strive for Right;
I love thee purely, as they turn from Praise.

I love thee with the passion put to use
In my old griefs, and with my childhood’s faith.
I love thee with a love I seemed to lose
With my lost saints, I love thee with the breath,
Smiles, tears, of all my life, and, if God choose,
I shall but love thee better after death.

(For some reason I have always liked this one - I first read it
when I was in High School many, many, moons ago and have never forgotten it.)
I guess I didn’t read through your whole thread either, because after I posted this I noticed that you didn’t want it. Oh well, back to the drawing board.


#5

I don’t know about Shakepeare - for mine it’s only a few of his sonnets (like ‘shall I compare thee to a summer’s day’) that are done to death - some of the lesser-known ones are gems. I like Sonnet 8 for one.

Some of John Donne’s lesser known ones are nice - I prefer the ones that aren’t sugary sweet but have a bit of a ring of truth to them

"THE CANONIZATION.
by John Donne

FOR God’s sake hold your tongue, and let me love ;
Or chide my palsy, or my gout ;
My five gray hairs, or ruin’d fortune flout ;
With wealth your state, your mind with arts improve ;
Take you a course, get you a place,
Observe his Honour, or his Grace ;
Or the king’s real, or his stamp’d face
Contemplate ; what you will, approve,
So you will let me love.

Alas ! alas ! who’s injured by my love?
What merchant’s ships have my sighs drown’d?
Who says my tears have overflow’d his ground?
When did my colds a forward spring remove?
When did the heats which my veins fill
Add one more to the plaguy bill?
Soldiers find wars, and lawyers find out still
Litigious men, which quarrels move,
Though she and I do love.

Call’s what you will, we are made such by love ;
Call her one, me another fly,
We’re tapers too, and at our own cost die,
And we in us find th’ eagle and the dove.
The phoenix riddle hath more wit
By us ; we two being one, are it ;
So, to one neutral thing both sexes fit.
We die and rise the same, and prove
Mysterious by this love.

We can die by it, if not live by love,
And if unfit for tomb or hearse
Our legend be, it will be fit for verse ;
And if no piece of chronicle we prove,
We’ll build in sonnets pretty rooms ;
As well a well-wrought urn becomes
The greatest ashes, as half-acre tombs,
And by these hymns, all shall approve
Us canonized for love ;

And thus invoke us, “You, whom reverend love
Made one another’s hermitage ;
You, to whom love was peace, that now is rage ;
Who did the whole world’s soul contract, and drove
Into the glasses of your eyes ;
So made such mirrors, and such spies,
That they did all to you epitomize—
Countries, towns, courts beg from above
A pattern of your love.”


#6

Doubt thou the stars are fire,
Doubt that the sun doth move,
Doubt truth to be a liar,
But never doubt I love.

  • Shakespeare, Hamlet, Act 2 scene 2

O my luve is like a red, red rose
That’s newly sprung in June;
O my luve’s like the melodie
That’s sweetly played in tune.
As fair art thou, my bonny lass,
So deep in luve am I;
And I will luve thee still, my dear,
Till a’ the seas gang dry.

Till a’ the seas gang dry, my dear,
And the rocks melt wi’ the sun;
I will luve thee still, my dear,
While the sands o’ life shall run.
And fare thee weel, my only love,
And fare thee weel, awhile!
And I will come again, my love
Tho’ it were ten thousand mile.

  • Robert Burns, “My Luve is Like a Red, Red Rose”

The first time ever I saw your face
I thought the sun rose in your eyes
And the moon and stars were the gifts you gave
To the dark and the empty skies, my love,
To the dark and the empty skies.

  • Ewan McColl, *from *“The First Time Ever I Saw Your Face” (1st verse)

Tell her I’ll be waiting
In the usual place
With the tired and weary
There’s no escape
To need a woman
You’ve got to know
How the strong get weak
And the rich get poor

Slave to love

You’re running with me
Don’t touch the ground
We’re the restless hearted
Not the chained and bound
The sky is burning
A sea of flame
Though your world is changing
I will be the same

Slave to love
And I can’t escape
I’m a slave to love

Can you help me?

The storm is breaking
Or so it seems
We’re too young to reason
Too grown up to dream
And the spring is turning
Your face to mine
I can hear your laughter
I can see your smile

Slave to love
No I can’t escape
I’m a slave to love

  • Bryan Ferry, “Slave To Love”, from the album Boys and Girls

Oh, Why you look so sad?
Tears are in your eyes
Come on and come to me now
Don’t be ashamed to cry
Let me see you through
Cause I’ve seen the dark side too.
When the night falls on you
You don’t know what to do
Nothing you confess
could make me love you less

I’ll stand by you
I’ll stand by you
Won’t let nobody hurt you
I’ll stand by you

So,
If your mad, get mad
Don’t hold it all inside
Come on and talk to me now
But hey, what you’ve got to hide
I get angry too
But I’m a lot like you
When you’re standing at the crossroads
Don’t know which path to choose
Let me come along
Cause even if your wrong…

I’ll stand by you
I’ll stand by you
Won’t let nobody hurt you
I’ll stand by you
Take me in into your darkest hour
And I’ll never desert you
I’ll stand by you
And when,
When the night falls on you baby
Your feeling all alone
Walking on your own

I’ll stand by you
I’ll stand by you
Won’t let nobody hurt you
I’ll stand by you

  • Chrissie Hynde, Tom Kelly and Billy Steinberg, “I’ll Stand By You”, from the Pretenders’ album Last of the Independents

What a dream I had
Pressed in organdy
Clothed in crinoline of smoky burgundy
Softer than the rain
I wandered empty streets
Down past the shop displays
I heard cathedral bells
Tripping down the alleyways
As I walked on

And when you ran to me
Your cheeks flushed with the night
We walked on frosted fields of juniper and lamplight
I held your hand
And when I awoke and felt you warm and near
I kissed your honey hair with my grateful tears
Oh I love you, girl
Oh, I love you

  • Paul Simon, “For Emily, Wherever I May Find Her”, from the Simon and Garfunkel album Parsley, Sage, Rosemary and Thyme

#7

Tell me why the stars do shine,
Tell me why the ivy twines,
Tell me why the sky is blue,
And I’ll tell you why I love you.

Nuclear fusion makes stars to shine,
Tropisms make the ivy twine,
Raleigh scattering makes the sky blue,
Gonads and hormones are why I love you.

  • Anonymous, variously attributed to Isaac Asimov or “someone at MIT”

#8

Let me not to the marriage of true minds
Admit impediments. Love is not love
That alters when it alteration finds,
Nor bends with the remover to remove.
Oh, no, it is an ever fixed mark
That looks on tempests and is never shaken.
It is the star to every wandering bark
Whose worth’s unknown although his height be taken.
Love’s not Time’s fool, though rosy lips and cheeks
Within his bending sickle’s compass come.
Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,
But bears it out, even to the edge of doom.
If this be error, and upon me proved,
I never writ nor no man ever loved. [RIGHT] Shakespeare, Sonnet 116 [/RIGHT]


#9

the Cavalier poets, or is that too obvious

and of course you can’t beat John Donne for being downright about love, but I agree with the Dowager Duchess of Denver, you never know if he is talking about carnal love or the Church


#10

I am partial to T. S. Eliot’s Four Quartets. Here is a link:
tristan.icom43.net/quartets/

I just started a similiar thread this week on the Media Forum. Perhaps the Mods would like to merge these.


#11

I love the Jesuit poet Gerard Manley Hopkins. Here are two of my favorite poems by him.

GOD’S GRANDEUR

THE WORLD is charged with the grandeur of God.
It will flame out, like shining from shook foil;
It gathers to a greatness, like the ooze of oil
Crushed. Why do men then now not reck his rod?
Generations have trod, have trod, have trod;
And all is seared with trade; bleared, smeared with toil;
And wears man’s smudge and shares man’s smell: the soil
Is bare now, nor can foot feel, being shod.

And for all this, nature is never spent;
There lives the dearest freshness deep down things;
And though the last lights off the black West went
Oh, morning, at the brown brink eastward, springs—
Because the Holy Ghost over the bent
World broods with warm breast and with ah! bright wings.

PIED BEAUTY

GLORY be to God for dappled things—
For skies of couple-colour as a brinded cow;
For rose-moles all in stipple upon trout that swim;
Fresh-firecoal chestnut-falls; finches’ wings;
Landscape plotted and pieced—fold, fallow, and plough;
And áll trádes, their gear and tackle and trim.

All things counter, original, spare, strange;
Whatever is fickle, freckled (who knows how?)
With swift, slow; sweet, sour; adazzle, dim;
He fathers-forth whose beauty is past change:
Praise him.


#12

I wish it was your husband and not your BF:

To keep your marriage brimming, With love in the loving cup, Whenever you’re wrong, admit it; Whenever you’re right, shut up.
Ogden Nash


#13

What a romantic thread! One of my favorite inspirational quote sites is inspirationpeak.com and here are a few of my favorite poems:

Sonnet XVII by Pablo Neruda
I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz,
or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off.
I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,
in secret, between the shadow and the soul.

I love you as the plant that never blooms
but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers;
thanks to your love a certain solid fragrance,
risen from the earth, lives darkly in my body.

I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where.
I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride;
so I love you because I know no other way than this

where I does not exist, or you,
so close that your hand on my chest is my hand,
so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep.

And another by Khalil Gibran exerpt from “The Prophet”

Love posesses not, nor would it be possessed;
for love is sufficient unto itself.

When you love, you should not say, “God is in my heart,” but rather, “I am in the heart of God.” And think not that you can direct the course of love, if it finds you worthy, it directs your course. Love has no other desire but to fulfil itself.

But if you love, and must needs have desires, let these be your desires:
To melt and be like a running brook that sings its melody to the night.
To know the pain of too much tenderness.
To be wounded by your own understanding of love; and to bleed willingly and joyfully.
To wake at dawn with a winged heart and give thanks for another day of loving.
To rest at the noon hour and meditate love’s ecstasy.
To return home in the evening with gratitude;
And then to sleep with a prayer for your beloved in your heart and a song of praise upon your lips.


#14

Not quite sure if it fits your criteria, but this is my favorite poem (as far as the subject of love is concerned)

[LEFT]
i carry your heart with me

i carry your heart with me(i carry it in
my heart)i am never without it(anywhere
i go you go,my dear; and whatever is done
by only me is your doing,my darling)
i fear
no fate(for you are my fate,my sweet)i want
no world(for beautiful you are my world,my true)
and it’s you are whatever a moon has always meant
and whatever a sun will always sing is you

here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life;which grows
higher than the soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that’s keeping the stars apart

i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart)

ee cummings
[/LEFT]


#15

Come into the garden Maud

by Alfred, Lord Tennyson

Come into the garden, Maud,
For the black bat, night, has flown,
Come into the garden, Maud,
I am here at the gate alone ;
And the woodbine spices are wafted abroad,
And the musk of the rose is blown.

For a breeze of morning moves,
And the planet of Love is on high,
Beginning to faint in the light that she loves
On a bed of daffodil sky,
To faint in the light of the sun she loves,
To faint in his light, and to die.

All night have the roses heard
The flute, violin, bassoon ;
All night has the casement jessamine stirred
To the dancers dancing in tune ;
Till a silence fell with the waking bird,
And a hush with the setting moon.

I said to the lily, ‘There is but one
With whom she has heart to be gay.
When will the dancers leave her alone ?
She is weary of dance and play.’
Now half to the setting moon are gone,
And half to the rising day ;
Low on the sand and loud on the stone
The last wheel echoes away.

I said to the rose, ‘The brief night goes
In babble and revel and wine.
O young lord-lover, what sighs are those,
For one that will never be thine ?
But mine, but mine,’ so I sware to the rose,
‘For ever and ever, mine.’

And the soul of the rose went into my blood,
As the music clashed in the hall ;
And long by the garden lake I stood,
For I heard your rivulet fall
From the lake to the meadow and on to the wood,
Our wood, that is dearer than all ;

From the meadow your walks have left so sweet
That whenever a March-wind sighs
He sets the jewel-print of your feet
In violets blue as your eyes,
To the woody hollows in which we meet
And the valleys of Paradise.

The slender acacia would not shake
One long milk-bloom on the tree ;
The white lake-blossom fell into the lake
As the pimpernel dozed on the lea ;
But the rose was awake all night for your sake,
Knowing your promise to me ;
The lilies and roses were all awake,
They sighed for the dawn and thee.

Queen rose of the rosebud garden of girls,
Come hither, the dances are done,
In gloss of satin and glimmer of pearls,
Queen lily and rose in one ;
Shine out, little head, sunning over with curls,
To the flowers, and be their sun.

There has fallen a splendid tear
From the passion-flower at the gate.
She is coming, my dove, my dear ;
She is coming, my life, my fate ;
The red rose cries, ‘She is near, she is near ;’
And the white rose weeps, ‘She is late ;’
The larkspur listens, ‘I hear, I hear ;’
And the lily whispers, ‘I wait.’

She is coming, my own, my sweet,
Were it ever so airy a tread,
My heart would hear her and beat,
Were it earth in an earthy bed ;
My dust would hear her and beat,
Had I lain for a century dead ;
Would start and tremble under her feet,
And blossom in purple and red.


#16

When we celebrate our 25th or 50th, we are going to have this engraved on the invitations! :thumbsup:


#17

“Woman’s Poem”

He didn’t like the casserole
And he didn’t like my cake.
He said my biscuits were too hard…
Not like his mother used to make.

I didn’t perk the coffee right
He didn’t like the stew,
I didn’t mend his socks
The way his mother used to do.

I pondered for an answer,
I was looking for a clue.
Then I turned around and smacked him…
Like his mother used to do.


#18

:rotfl:


#19

i gave these to my GoodHusband on our 20th anniversary. they’re probably too sensual for a non-married relationship, though.

***The Coming of Light ***
by Mark Strand

Even this late it happens:
the coming of love, the coming of light.
You wake and the candles are lit as if by themselves,
stars gather, dreams pour into your pillows,
sending up warm bouquets of air.
Even this late the bones of the body shine
and tomorrow’s dust flares into breath.

From Blossoms
by Li-Young Lee

From blossoms comes
this brown paper bag of peaches
we bought from the joy
at the bend in the road where we turned toward
signs painted Peaches.

From laden boughs, from hands,
from sweet fellowship in the bins,
comes nectar at the roadside, succulent
peaches we devour, dusty skin and all,
comes the familiar dust of summer, dust we eat.

O, to take what we love inside,
to carry within us an orchard, to eat
not only the skin, but the shade,
not only the sugar, but the days, to hold
the fruit in our hands, adore it, then bite into
the round jubilance of peach.

There are days we live
as if death were nowhere
in the background; from joy
to joy to joy, from wing to wing,
from blossom to blossom to
impossible blossom, to sweet impossible blossom.


#20

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