The Best Love Poems of All Time

[Admin]

I'd like to compile a list of the best love poems of all time.

This is one of my favorites:

http://www.online-literature.com/donne/371/



PLEASE RESPECT COPYRIGHT LAWS: READ THIS BEFORE POSTING:

http://www.online-literature.com/for...ad.php?t=17515

..

..

[Koa]

(how long has this topic been here? i had never seen it)

The one that comes to my mind now is by Emily Dickinson, and it starts with:

I cannot live-with you
It would be life
and life is over there
behind the shelf
the sexton keeps the key to

or this is what i remember by heart... I dont know if it's on this site...I cna write it all when i have time, or look for a link.

[Downer]

A nice bit of cummings is hard to beat:

http://www.americanpoems.com/poets/eecummings/mayifeel.shtml

Downer

[MadammeCal]

Hello All, I just love this site. And it is so great that so many are inspired by the deepest emotions of others. Some words penetrate to the core of my being, its so amazing that something so powerful are only appreciated by so few.

[Phoenix_Tears]

i believe my favourite love poem would be one written by this guy( nicknamed Phoenix_Arises, odd huh? but i swear its not me) i stumbled upon it a drakkan.com in poetry. i only remember one line,

"I'll gladly take you up to heaven
Because that is where all angels belong"

i printed it and its somewhere i n my numerous folders...hmm i think i might drag it out someday.
-Phoen-X

[gatsbysghost]

Jim Morrison Wilderness vol. 2

I am troubled immeasurably
by your eyes
I am struck by the feather
of your soft reply

Broken glass
speaks quick disdain
and conceals what your
heart trys to explain.

Simple and short but still a good one from the lizard king.

[tree]

I'd like to compile a list of the best love poems of all time.
i like them
This is one of my favorites:

http://www.online-literature.com/donne/371/

[Shea]

This is one of my favorite songs to play on my harp, but its more my favorite because of the words and the story behind it. The Irish poet Thomas Moore (1779-1852) wrote this song for his wife after she contracted a disfiguring skin disease and feared he would no longer care for her.

Believe me, if all those endearing young charms
Which I gaze on so fondly today,
Were to change by tomorrow, and fleet in my arms
Like fairy gifts fading away;
Thou wouldst still be adored
As this moment thou art,
Let thy loveliness fade as it will.
And around the dear ruin each wish of my heart
Would entwine itself verdantly still.

It is not while beauty and youth are thine own,
And thy cheeks unprofaned by a tear,
That the fervour and faith of a soul can be known,
To which time will but make thee more dear.
No, the heart that has truly loved never forgets,
But as truly loves on to the close,
As the sun-flower turns on her god, when he sets,
The same look which she turned when he rose.

[Lothwen]

This is one of my favourite poems written by one of my favourite poetesses (of course it is translation, but the "official", not mine )

Nothin Twice - Wislawa Szymborska

Nothing can ever happen twice.
In consequence, the sorry fact is
that we arrive here improvised
and leave without the chance to practice.

Even if there is no one dumber,
if you're the planet's biggest dunce,
you can't repeat the class in summer:
this course is only offered once.

No day copies yesterday,
no two nights will teach what bliss is
in precisely the same way,
with exactly the same kisses.

One day, perhaps, some idle tongue
mentions your name by accident:
I feel as if a rose were flung
into the room, all hue and scent.

The next day, though you're here with me,
I can't help looking at the clock:
A rose? A rose? What could that be?
Is it a flower or a rock?

Why do we treat the fleeting day
with so much needless fear and sorrow?
It's in its nature not to stay:
Today is always gone tomorrow.

With smiles and kisses, we prefer
to seek accord beneath our star,
although we're different (we concur)
just as two drops of water are.

[putty]

I agree that Donne's Valediction poem is one of the best loved with its wonderful figure of the compass. I think Keats' "Ode to a Nightingale" should also make the list.

[putty]

I misread "love" for "loved" in suggesting Keats' Ode. With an apology I want to add that Marvell's "To His Coy Mistress" should be on the list of best "love" poems.[/i]

[Zoe]

This poem is one of the most widly love poems in the world, written about her husband Robert Browning.

"How do i love thee, let me count the ways"
"if god choose, i shall but love thee better after death"

just 2 lovely lines - looking the rest up on the net is worth it - i love it.

[AbdoRinbo]

At the end of the poem, you realize Rimbaud was referring to the waking dawn, not a fleeing lover. A beautiful personification of a different kind of love, in my opinion.

'I embraced the summer dawn.

Nothing yet stirred on the face of the palaces. The water was dead. The shadows still camped in the woodland road. I walked, waking quick warm breaths; and stones looked on, and wings rose without sound.

The first venture was, in a path already filled with fresh, pale gleams, a flower who told me her name.

I laughed at the blond watterfall that tousled through the pines: on silver summer I recognized the goddess.

Then, one by one, I lifted up her veils. In the lane, waving my arms. Across the plain, where I notified the ****. In the city, she fled among the steeples and the domes; and running like a beggar on the marble quays, I chased her.

Above the road near a laurel wood, I wrapped her up in her gathered veils, and I felt a little her immense body. Dawn and the child fell down at the edge of the wood.

Waking, it was noon.'

[The original French]

'J'ai embrassé l'aube d'été.

Rien ne bougeait encore au front des palais. L'eau était mortre. Les camps d'ombres ne quittaient pas la route du bois. J'ai marché, réveillant les haleines vives et tièdes; et les pierries regardèrent, et les ailes se levèrent sans bruit.

La première enterprise fut, dans le sentier déjà empli de frais et blêmes éclats, une fleur qui me dit son nom.

Je ris au wasserfall blond qui s'échevela à travers les sapins: à la cime argentée je reconnus la déesse.

Alors je levai un à les voiles. Dans l'allée, en agitant les bras. Par la plaine, où je l'ai dénoncée au coq. A la grand'ville elle fuyait parmi les clochers et les dômes, et, courant comme un mendiant sur les quais de marbre, je la chassais.

En haut de la route, près d'un bois de lauriers. Je l'ai entourée avec ses voiles amassés, et j'ai senti un peu son immense corps. L'aube et l'enfant tombèrent au bas du bois.

Au réveil, il était midi.'

[penscrimson]

Easy...this request. One of the greatest 'love' poems of all time, you ask? Search no further than Bob Dylan's 'Blood On The Tracks' album. Cue up to 'Simple Twist Of Fate'. For those of you who will or can not...here it is.

They sat together in the park
As the evening sky grew dark
She looked at him and he felt a spark tingle to his bones
'twas then he felt alone and wished that he'd gone straight
And watched out for a simple twist of fate.

They walked along by the old canal
A little confused, I remember well
And stopped into a strange hotel with a neon burning bright
He felt the heat of the night hit him like a freight train
Moving with a simple twist of fate.

A saxophone someplace far off played
As she was walking by the arcade
As the light bust through the beat-up shade where he was wakin up
She dropped a coin into the cup of a blind man at the gate
And forgot about a simple twist of fate.

He woke up, the room was bare
He didn't see her anywhere.
He told himself he didn't care, pushed the window open wide
Felt an emptiness inside to which he just could not relate
Brought on by a simple twist of fate.

He hears the ticking of the clocks
And walks along with a parrot that talks.
Hunts her down by the waterfront docks where the sailors all come in.
Maybe she'll pick him out again, how long must he wait
Once more for a simple twist of fate.

People tell me it's a sin
to know and feel too much within
I still believe she was my twin, but I lost the ring
She was born in spring, but I was born too late
Blame it on a simple twist of fate.

Bob Dylan
(Born Robert Zimmerman)

[b]

This will be my shortest reply ever:

Dante