Poetry of Love

See if anyone can correct beauty in the fifith line... You get em as I write them, so I am not copying, other wise the typos might be an easier catch...

Fido - you wrote the poems you've posted here? They're beautiful - I think you're very talented.

This is a love poem I like alot. I don't usually like this poet's work particularly, but I like what he expresses and how he expresses it here:

somewhere i have never travelled, gladly beyond
by: ee cummings
somewhere i have never travelled, gladly beyond
any experience, your eyes have their silence:
in your most frail gesture are things which enclose me,
or which i cannot touch because they are too near

your slightest look will easily unclose me
though i have closed myself as fingers,
you open always petal by petal myself as Spring opens
(touching skilfully, mysteriously) her first rose

or if your wish be to close me, i and
my life will shut very beautifully ,suddenly,
as when the heart of this flower imagines
the snow carefully everywhere descending;
nothing which we are to perceive in this world equals
the power of your intense fragility: whose texture
compels me with the color of its countries,
rendering death and forever with each breathing

(i do not know what it is about you that closes and opens;
only something in me understands
the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses)
nobody, not even the rain, has such small hands

No; just fast... It takes longer to make love than to write about it..

W. Wordsworth

"She was a Phantom of delight"

SHE was a Phantom of delight
When first she gleam'd upon my sight;
A lovely Apparition, sent
To be a moment's ornament:
Her eyes as stars of twilight fair; 5
Like twilight's, too, her dusky hair;
But all things else about her drawn
From May-time and the cheerful dawn;
A dancing shape, an image gay,
To haunt, to startle, and waylay. 10

I saw her upon nearer view,
A Spirit, yet a Woman too!
Her household motions light and free,
And steps of virgin liberty;
A countenance in which did meet 15
Sweet records, promises as sweet;
A creature not too bright or good
For human nature's daily food,
For transient sorrows, simple wiles,
Praise, blame, love, kisses, tears, and smiles. 20

And now I see with eye serene
The very pulse of the machine;
A being breathing thoughtful breath,
A traveller between life and death:
The reason firm, the temperate will, 25
Endurance, foresight, strength, and skill;
A perfect Woman, nobly plann'd
To warn, to comfort, and command;
And yet a Spirit still, and bright
With something of an angel light. 30

She was distracted, abstracted, aloof
She was the beating of wings
the memory of sin, the blush of the wind
And it was my task to bring her back in
into her mortal skin

She was lost, spiritual and light
She was a candle alone in the night
She was a scent of distant delights
She was a beautiful sight

And I was all tired from labors unloved
But she was the life I was dreaming of
She was my goddess, my savior, my life
She was my treasure, my payday, my price

And I can't say how this story ends
Shall it go on incarnate, or shall we be friends
But she is my moment, my heart, and my ken
And she can bring me back to life again.

W. Wordsworth

CLXXIV. "She was a Phantom of delight"

SHE was a Phantom of delight
When first she gleam'd upon my sight;
A lovely Apparition, sent
To be a moment's ornament:
Her eyes as stars of twilight fair; 5
Like twilight's, too, her dusky hair;
But all things else about her drawn
From May-time and the cheerful dawn;
A dancing shape, an image gay,
To haunt, to startle, and waylay. 10

I saw her upon nearer view,
A Spirit, yet a Woman too!
Her household motions light and free,
And steps of virgin liberty;
A countenance in which did meet 15
Sweet records, promises as sweet;
A creature not too bright or good
For human nature's daily food,
For transient sorrows, simple wiles,
Praise, blame, love, kisses, tears, and smiles. 20

And now I see with eye serene
The very pulse of the machine;
A being breathing thoughtful breath,
A traveller between life and death:
The reason firm, the temperate will, 25
Endurance, foresight, strength, and skill;
A perfect Woman, nobly plann'd
To warn, to comfort, and command;
And yet a Spirit still, and bright
With something of an angel light. 30

Take, Oh Take Those Lips Away

Take, oh take those lips away,
That so sweetly were forsworn,
And those eyes, the break of day,
Lights that do mislead the morn:
But my kisses bring again,
Seals of love, but sealed in vain.

Hide, oh hide those hills of snow,
Which thy frozen bosom bears,
On whose tops the pinks that grow
Are yet of those that April wears.
But first set my poor heart free,
Bound in those icy chains by thee.

John Fletcher

Life is a long haul
and I go when they call
I can't say no
and when they call I go
and it may be bricks and it may be tiles
but this load has been beating me for a million miles
Yet, before me I can see your smile
your flowing hair your shining skin
and I am in another world
and another mile further down the road

Life is a long haul
with too many miles for too little pay
and some body some where must like it that way
Its all so hopeless, danderous and deprived
and to the end all you do is survive
and only love makes it all worth a damn
all the begging and thank you's and yes sirs and ma'ams
then its back in the rig for another long haul
with the dream girl before you
who beckons and calls
who tosses her hair
and sends you that smile
and gets you through another mile...

Fido - your work makes me swoon. Wonderful!!

________________________________________

A strange passion is moving in my head.
My heart has become a bird
Which searches in the sky.
Every part of me goes in different directions.
Is it really so
That the one I love is everywhere?

- Rumi

You are too kind... And I don't mind, but would tell you the difference between work and play... Mispellings and all, none of those pieces took me over a half an hour... They are there, like verbal doodles, and I let them out... Each is secondary to the emotion and the relationship, and second is nothing... Love is poetry, and poetry is play.. If I ever had to work at it, I would not...

Well, are you in love?

Only someone in love or in deep pain about love could write like that.

Love. adoration, devotion, commited; and all the above at once...

Who can help themselves... She is a magnet of affection... She cares, and it shows, and people pick up on it and care back.... The world needs more people like her... There is so much pain and loneliness...There is so little love... I have words; poor pitiful words... Her whole being communicates love... And I wish we had the ideal relationship, and I wish I could express my feelings, and I wish I could salve her anxiety and pain, which she has in quantity because she touches so many and does such good simply by caring to... She is incredible, touched by God, and to me no different from God.... She is worth every sacrifice I have ever made for her...

If lonely were cold
and you were froze
and your world was a waste
of wind and snow
and another were fire
can you tell how I feel
all warm and cozy
lazy and dozey
from head to toesy
with my dear love???

If lonely were hungry
and you were starved
and your stomach were wailing
and crying out loud
and she were a feast
with meat all carved
with courses and candles
and candies and stars
Can you see how I'm feeling
how real are my feelings
from where you are???

If lonely were ugly
and you were a cur
and you broke every camera
and mirror you saw
and she made you feel kitten
as soft as a mitten
as smooth as the wheels of law
Do you know why I'm living
Do you know why I'm loving
do you know why she fills me with awe???

If lonely were silence
and darkness and pain
and she made your life music,
and pleasure and blaze
would you not adore her
and look on amazed
at the power of love
to those love has saved
and make love your cause
and your cure and crusade???

I do this as service
as she is the one
for love makes us mistress
and masters of none
but makes slaves of lovers
in the service of good
if loneliness surrender
and sacrifice they would
such joy and happiness
are theirs forever
living as lovers
and parting never

tx4 the yeats

that poetry is ineffably execrable

Sorry doodette... That one took about an hour and a half, but I head wrote it taking my daughters boyfriend home... If I had not written it down I might have forgotten it by morning, and who knows that the world may not have been a better place for it... It is kind of cold outside... It does not take much to set words off in me... Some times, one good line can grow a poem...

had i all heavens cosy cloth
in all its awe and silver light
with blues so wan that some dark cloth
could cloak the night in dusky light
i'd spread it all before your feet
so you could walk into the dreams
when touching souls come to their feet
together in a field of dreams

Miller

Who ever said that never heard a kid late for class with his foreskin caught in a zipper...

POEM
Love Me Little, Love Me Long

by Anonymous

Love me little, love me long,
Is the burden of my song.
Love that is too hot and strong
Burneth soon to waste:
Still, I would not have thee cold,
Not too backward, nor too bold;
Love that lasteth till ’tis old
Fadeth not in haste.
Love me little, love me long,
Is the burden of my song.

If thou lovest me too much
It will not prove as true as touch;
Love me little, more than such,
For I fear the end:
I am with little well content,
And a little from thee sent
Is enough, with true intent
To be steadfast friend.
Love me little, love me long,
Is the burden of my song.

Say thou lov’st me while thou live;
I to thee my love will give,
never dreaming to deceive
Whiles that life endures:
Nay, and after death, in sooth,
I too thee will keep my truth,
As now, when in my May of youth:
This my love assures.
Love me little, love me long,
Is the burden on my song.

Constant love is moderate ever,
And it will through life persèver:
Give me that, with true endeavour
I will it restore.
A suit of durance let it be
For all weathers that for me,
For the land or for the sea,
Lasting evermore.
Love me little, love me long,
Is the burden of my song.

Winter’s cold, or summer’s heat,
Autumn’s tempests, on it beat,
It can never know defeat,
Never can rebel:
Such the love that I would gain,
Such the love, I tell thee plain,
Thou must give, or woo in vain:
So to thee, farewell
Love me little, love me long,
Is the burden of my song

Kiss me with your lips
kiss me with your hips
kiss me with all your love
today is the worst day
today is the longest day
today is the only day of my life
and when I get there and all day long
through cold, the rain, the snow
the adversity, the traffic, the load
the impediment, the assholes, the hate
the bile, the danger, the fate
this moment wil I remember
this moment will I hold dear
your eyes, your skin, your lips
your breath, your love will lure me near

Kiss me with your lips
and calls for my surrender
will never be remembered
Kiss me and no impediment will impede
no obstruction will obstruct
for you my pride, my prize, my life
are my pearl of great price
and no matter how much or many
of life's travails assail me
it is your love around me
sweet memories of our moments
the desire to close that distance
that will ever lure me near...