Love Poetry and Poem

Afterthoughts Of Donna Elvira

Posted by lovepp | Posted in Afrer, All, Born, Cruel, Donna Elvira, Fool, Free, Good, Kind, Know, Love, Mind, None, Poem, Poetry, Scorn, See, Thought, Win | Posted on 9:25 AM

You, after all, were good.
Now it is late, you are kind.
Never too late, to my mind,
The mind catches up with the blood.

You, it is good to know,
Now we are not in thrall,
To me were as kind as you would,
Being the same to all.

Those that are true to one
Love not themselves, love none.
Loving the one and many,
You cannot be true to any.

True to your human kind,
You seemed to me to cruel.
Now I am not a fool,
Now that I fear no scorn,

Now that I see, I see
What you have known within:
Whenever we love, we win,
Or else we have never been born.

Season Of Lovers And Assassins

Posted by lovepp | Posted in Assassins, Cape, Decay, Dreams, Embrace, Flung, Force, Free, Hatteras, Live, Lovers, Man, Poetry, Pounds, Public, Season, Stone, TV, World | Posted on 8:36 AM

Safe from the wild storms off Cape Hatteras,
Hastily stripped, in the warm surf we embrace.

The storm we made has flung us to the sand.
A force not thought has plunged each into each.

Trailing our clothes like seaweed up the beach,
We swim to sleep, and drown, entwined in dreams.

The other ocean wakes us, where a gun
Struck, as we slept, a caring public man.

From early dawn, zoo noises bruise our ears
Played on TV's gray window to the news.

Blood gills the famous brain. The rain descend
(your gentle hands), a continent of tears.

One passionate harsh light has been put out.
Numbly we move to the noontime of our love:

The strip of rain-pocked shore gleams pallidly.
Fragments of broken palm-frond fly like knives

Through tropic wind. Soon we bear star-shaped wounds,
Stigmata of all passion-driven lives.

We leave this island, safety, to our fate,
Wrapt in a caul of vulnerability,

Marked lovers, now the moony night is ours,
Surf-sounds reminding us that good decay

Surrounds us: force which pounds on flesh or stone,
The slow assassination of the years.

The Patient Lovers

Posted by lovepp | Posted in Art, Body, Falling, Free, Heart, Illness, Large, Love, Lovers, Pallor, Patient, Poem, Poetry, Pulse, Resting, Rising, Though, Well, Will | Posted on 11:02 AM

Love is an illness still to be,
Still away, another chill.
We shall measure mercury

Of the rising, falling will,
Of the large and resting heart,
Of the body, not quite still,

Still enough to keep the chart
From reflecting what we feel:
We shall be well, and well apart.

Though my body still will start
When from my milky side you steal,
And breathing is a casual art,

And illness we no longer play
Unless we fill the healer's part.
We will be well, and well away

Until our pulse and pallor tell
That we are ill, of being well.

A Return to Love by Marianne Williamson

Posted by lovepp | Posted in Glory, God, Love | Posted on 12:51 AM

Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate,
Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure,
It is our light, not our darkness, that most frightens us.
We ask ourselves, who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, and fabulous--
Actually, who are you not to be?

You are a child of God.
Your playing small doesn't serve the world.
There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people

Won't feel insecure around you.
We were born to make manifest the glory of God within us.
It is not just in some of us: it is in everyone,
And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously
Give other people permission to the same.

Love Song by Carolyn Kizer

Posted by lovepp | Posted in Carolyn, Easily, Fall, Love, Poem, Song | Posted on 8:21 PM

O to fall easily, easily, easily in Love
As nursling birds tumble from the nest
(not-pray-into the dog's jaws).
True lovers of women tend to love
Not grossly, but in gross lots
("Without deduction for tare, tret of waste," Webster says),
love every look,
Think each new taste the best.

O to fall in Love, easily, easily
As a mild child falls to, at the breast
(not as an iron-jawed child clamps on),
To inhale all sweet ambience, breezily
Exhale flowered breath
While rapturously curls the pillowed fist,
Toes clenched in comfort,
Each new taste the best.

O love, easily, easily, easily to fall
As fledgling bird or child is lost
(within a plot, not acres away),
Only to turn around, and find the haven
That has not moved at all
Learn lose-and-find without much cost,
Terror smoothed in feathered, ruffled bosom,
And easily, Love, easily to rest.

Hiding Our Love by Carolyn Kizer

Posted by lovepp | Posted in Carolyn, Hiding, Love, Poem | Posted on 8:14 PM

Never believe I leave you
From Any desire to go.
Never believe I live so far away
Except from necessity.
After a whole day of separation
Still your dark: fragrance clings to my skin.
I carry your letter everywhere.
The sash of my dress wraps twice around my waist.
I wish it bound the two of us together.

Do you know that we both conceal our love
Because of prior sorrow, superstitious fear?
We are two citizens of a savage era
Schooled in disguises and in self-command,
Hiding our aromatic, vulnerable love.

LoveMusic by Carolyn Kizer

Posted by lovepp | Posted in Love, Music, Poem | Posted on 9:00 PM

Come, freighted heart, within this port,
Bring all your bee-collected sweet,
The savor of a liberal night,
The crown of columbine, still-wet,
The muse of days. Bring your delight
To fill the palate and the plate,
To rinse the lips. Unburden, set
Your lilies on my chair of state.

Come, laden love, to this, my cave.
For here we soon may hide and move,
In havens play the courting dove,
And pace the newly-altared nave:
The vested place, this heart alive.
With fruit and wine and coupled play,
Each self will give itself away.

Come candidly, consort with me,
And spill our pleasure for a day.
Let love delay, unhurriedly,
This passing taste--I prophesy:
Remembered cinnamon and lime
Will fructify a bleaker time.

1942.