Hey guys...do you guys know some really really nice love poems when read toa women just melt them....if you know what I mean?
I would really appreciate.
Thanks :)
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Hey guys...do you guys know some really really nice love poems when read toa women just melt them....if you know what I mean?
I would really appreciate.
Thanks :)
There once was a girl from Nantucket...
Oh wait...
The Cat (Baudelaire)
Come, my fine cat, against my loving heart;
Sheathe your sharp claws, and settle.
And let my eyes into your pupils dart
Where agate sparks with metal.
Now while my fingertips caress at leisure
Your head and wiry curves,
And that my hand's elated with the pleasure
Of your electric nerves,
I think about my woman — how her glances
Like yours, dear beast, deep-down
And cold, can cut and wound one as with lances;
Then, too, she has that vagrant
And subtle air of danger that makes fragrant
Her body, lithe and brown.
This thread was the first thing that came to my mind. The passage that the OP in that thread refers to is:
TEll me ye merchants daughters did ye see
So fayre a creature in your towne before,
So sweet, so louely, and so mild as she,
Adornd with beautyes grace and vertues store,
Her goodly eyes lyke Saphyres shining bright,
Her forehead yuory white,
Her cheekes lyke apples which the sun hath rudded,
Her lips lyke cherryes charming men to byte,
Her brest like to a bowle of creame vncrudded,
Her paps lyke lyllies budded,
Her snowie necke lyke to a marble towre,
And allher body like a pallace fayre,
Ascending vppe with many a stately stayre,
To honors seat and chastities sweet bowre.
Why stand ye still ye virgins in amaze,
Vpon her so to gaze,
Whiles ye forget your former lay to sing,
To which the woods did answer and your eccho ring
from Edmund Spenser's Epithalamion (the passage is "poem 10").
What woman can resist a man who compares her breasts to a bowl of uncrudded cream? :)
Poetry to aid in getting laid? Certainly a worthy area for study. Sign me up.:thumbs_up
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My wife's standing behind me, right?:blush::sick:
Quick! Tell her her breasts are like a bowl of cream uncrudded!Quote:
Originally Posted by stlukesguild
Quote:
Originally Posted by foxycleop
If it were that easy, then every college guy would be a Shakespeare. :lol: There wouldn't be toga parties on college campuses but poetry clubs.Quote:
Originally Posted by stlukesguild
I've always been of the opinion that men write love poems not to seduce women. Love poems are written because women seduce men, and men write them. :)
good answerQuote:
Originally Posted by jon1jt
Quick! Tell her her breasts are like a bowl of cream uncrudded!
Hell, I'll give it a shot. I tried that Nantucket poem once but it didn't go over that well for some reason.:confused:
I am a guy btw. don't be misguided by my nickname there. well...first, it's not easy to be shakespeare that any guy could be.
Second, only very few men in the history ever really understood women. And as with anything you need to know HOW to use something. Ofcourse you don't need poetry to seduce women but that HOW is something that only a person at my level of game can understand. It's just the next level for me.
Quote:
Originally Posted by Virgil
Quote:
Originally Posted by Virgil
I agree....I think most romantic poetry is not about the seduction or the chase but reflections on the experience of being with that person and you what attracts you to her.Quote:
Originally Posted by jon1jt
Hey, it would take more than a love poem to get the job done. Contemporary women aren't exactly pushovers, you know what I mean?
Mark Twain: "No girl was ever corrupted by a book."
Well, I can definitely recommend avoiding Shakepeare's Sonnet 129 ("Th'expense of spirit in a waste of shame..."); that's pretty much guaranteed to keep heaving bosoms in their corsets.
As a messy person, whose clothes are held together mostly by safety-pins and willpower, I have to say that Delight in Disorder is close to my heart.
Delight in Disorder (Robert Herrick)
A sweet disorder in the dress
Kindles in clothes a wantonness :
A lawn about the shoulders thrown
Into a fine distraction :
An erring lace which here and there
Enthrals the crimson stomacher :
A cuff neglectful, and thereby
Ribbons to flow confusedly :
A winning wave (deserving note)
In the tempestuous petticoat :
A careless shoe-string, in whose tie
I see a wild civility :
Do more bewitch me than when art
Is too precise in every part.
Quote:
Originally Posted by stlukesguild
Apparently, neither stlukesguild nor Mark Twain were at foxycleop's level of game.Quote:
Originally Posted by AuntShecky
This brought back memories of unnamable http://www.online-literature.com/for...ad.php?t=16186
Snap! I was just about to go searching for that....Quote:
Originally Posted by kilted exile
I wouldnt trust your chances after calling someone a cat...Quote:
Originally Posted by one_raven
actually this whole thread is rather smarmy if slightly amusing too.
That very famous online video site with which "YOU" will be familiar if it hasn't gone down the "TUBES" has a nice
rendition of "Brush Up Your Shakespeare" that advice to the lovelorn from "Kiss Me Kate" by our Beloved Mr. Porter.
This topic is one of the origins of poetry...
How do you woo the one you desire?
I can't give you an exact poem,
there are so many...
if you want to seduce a woman...
treat her like a lady!
Romance her mind
The world is your oyster
expand your mind
and be kind.
Anyways, thats my poem to seduce ladies...lets call it a lesson plan though.
I was thinking of the same thing, Kilted. Even wondered if I should make the effort to unearth the thread (but luckily you did before me ;))Quote:
Originally Posted by kilted exile
So true, so true. If poetry could be the bait of mating, all bards would be Hugh Heffner. But I found this poem by William Blake and think it appropriate for regarding deceit by using silver tongues and scheming.Quote:
Originally Posted by Virgil
"The Sick Rose"
by William Blake
O rose, thou art sick.
The invisible worm
That flies in the night
In the howling storm
Has found out thy bed
Of crimson joy,
And his dark secret love
Does thy life destroy.
INTERPRATATION:
"The rose in the poem represents beauty and love, often with sex; and here several key terms have sexual connotations: "worm," "bed," and "crimson joy." The violation of the rose by the worm is the poem's main concern; the violation seems to have involved secrecy, deceit, and "dark" motives, [probably the dark motive of self-interest] and the result is sickness rather than the joy of love."
Just let whats in your mind and heart flow out from your pen (keyboard) onto the paper... or maybe not actually haha. How about you do actually make your own poem up but make it really light hearted and dorky, a humorous one. Get her laughing :)
Sorry if my comment was a bit harsh on the board. So as an expression of apology, I'll extend to you an experience that was romantic for me. I once dated a guy who played guitar. He brought out his guitar after dinner and played a song on it by James Taylor "You've got a Friend." It worked because he did not go to bed alone that night. So, it's something you might want to think about.Quote:
Originally Posted by foxycleop
You can't go wrong with a bit of Pablo Neruda if it's a love poem you are looking for (i'm a girl and it worked on me!)
But if you want a 'seduction' poem you could try 'To His Coy Mistress' by Andrew Marvell - the narrator is trying to convince his lover to sleep with him by suggesting she should seize the moment and give over being coy because there isnt time for it.
Had we but world enough, and time,
This coyness, lady, were no crime.
We would sit down and think which way
To walk, and pass our long love's day;
Thou by the Indian Ganges' side
Shouldst rubies find; I by the tide
Of Humber would complain. I would
Love you ten years before the Flood;
And you should, if you please, refuse
Till the conversion of the Jews.
My vegetable love should grow
Vaster than empires, and more slow.
An hundred years should go to praise
Thine eyes, and on thy forehead gaze;
Two hundred to adore each breast,
But thirty thousand to the rest;
An age at least to every part,
And the last age should show your heart.
For, lady, you deserve this state,
Nor would I love at lower rate.
But at my back I always hear
Time's winged chariot hurrying near;
And yonder all before us lie
Deserts of vast eternity.
Thy beauty shall no more be found,
Nor, in thy marble vault, shall sound
My echoing song; then worms shall try
That long preserv'd virginity,
And your quaint honour turn to dust,
And into ashes all my lust.
The grave's a fine and private place,
But none I think do there embrace.
Now therefore, while the youthful hue
Sits on thy skin like morning dew,
And while thy willing soul transpires
At every pore with instant fires,
Now let us sport us while we may;
And now, like am'rous birds of prey,
Rather at once our time devour,
Than languish in his slow-chapp'd power.
Let us roll all our strength, and all
Our sweetness, up into one ball;
And tear our pleasures with rough strife
Thorough the iron gates of life.
Thus, though we cannot make our sun
Stand still, yet we will make him run.
Yes the above Andrew Marvel poem is good, so are Donne's love songs (if you get the pronunciation of 'country' right in 'I wonder by my troth' it may lead to bigger things right away!!!)
Shelley's Lines to an Indian Air:
Lines to an Indian Air
1.
I arise from dreams of thee
In the first sweet sleep of night,
When the winds are breathing low,
And the stars are shining bright:
I arise from dreams of thee, 5
And a spirit in my feet
Hath led me—who knows how?
To thy chamber window, Sweet!
2.
The wandering airs they faint
On the dark, the silent stream— 10
The Champak odours fail
Like sweet thoughts in a dream;
The nightingale’s complaint,
It dies upon her heart;—
As I must on thine, 15
Oh, beloved as thou art!
3.
Oh lift me from the grass!
I die! I faint! I fail!
Let thy love in kisses rain
On my lips and eyelids pale. 20
My cheek is cold and white, alas!
My heart beats loud and fast;—
Oh! press it to thine own again,
Where it will break at last.
and Keats's Sonnet 'Had I man's fair form...'
Had I a man's fair form, then might my sighs
Be echoed swiftly through that ivory shell
Thine ear, and find thy gentle heart; so well
Would passion arm me for the enterprize:
But ah! I am no knight whose foeman dies;
No cuirass glistens on my bosom's swell;
I am no happy shepherd of the dell
Whose lips have trembled with a maiden's eyes.
Yet must I dote on thee,--call thee sweet,
Sweeter by far than Hybla's honied roses
When steep'd in dew rich to intoxication.
Ah! I will taste that dew, for me 'tis meet,
And when the moon her pallid face disclose,
I'll gather some by spells, and incantation.
Both were enough for me as I knew them by heart. Throw in the mix a bit of Donne and Shakespeare and you are ready for the conquest!
I don't think a modern woman can be seduced by a poem (since most people don't have enough brains to understand them and think them weird.) But it's worth a try. Try some of Becker's poetry.
:lol:Quote:
Originally Posted by Bakiryu
I agree.
Hey Bak, I'm a modern woman - and actually, I can easily be seduced by a poem. This one always makes me weak in the knees:
She walks in beauty, like the night
Of cloudless climes and starry skies;
And all that's best of dark and bright
Meet in her aspect and her eyes:
Thus mellowed to that tender light
Which heaven to gaudy day denies.
One shade the more, one ray the less,
Had half impaired the nameless grace
Which waves in every raven tress,
Or softly lightens o'er her face;
Where thoughts serenely sweet express
How pure, how dear their dwelling-place.
And on that cheek, and o'er that brow,
So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,
The smiles that win, the tints that glow,
But tell of days in goodness spent,
A mind at peace with all below,
A heart whose love is innocent!
AND THIS:
Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?
Thou art more lovely and more temperate:
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,
And summer's lease hath all too short a date:
Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,
And often is his gold complexion dimm'd;
And every fair from fair sometime declines,
By chance or nature's changing course untrimm'd;
But thy eternal summer shall not fade
Nor lose possession of that fair thou owest;
Nor shall Death brag thou wander'st in his shade,
When in eternal lines to time thou growest:
So long as men can breathe or eyes can see,
So long lives this and this gives life to thee.
Actually this thread was the first thing that jumped in my mind too after reading the title. :pQuote:
Originally Posted by Scheherazade
I clicked this and a woman clad in metal was singing.Quote:
Originally Posted by Bakiryu
Sorry, but I don't understand Russian.
Aren't there any love poems to seduce men? ;)
Ah Virgil I did not that you were that way inclind :DQuote:
Originally Posted by Virgil
'twas my signature, not a link Sheck.Quote:
Originally Posted by AuntShecky
Yeah, but they're all pornographic.Quote:
Originally Posted by Virgil
:lol: You're right! :DQuote:
Originally Posted by Countess
Love poem? c'mon....they are just laughing at you, they'll get to tell the next bf what a tool you were. So avoid it, be a meanie! :flare:
pop a double biceps shot and tell them that you're not into mushy stuff, that'll have them writing love poems for YOU.
ya boi!
:D
Weeping Willy Yeats:
HE WISHES FOR THE CLOTHS OF HEAVEN
HAD I the heavens' embroidered cloths,
Enwrought with golden and silver light,
The blue and the dim and the dark cloths
Of night and light and the half-light,
I would spread the cloths under your feet:
But I, being poor, have only my dreams;
I have spread my dreams under your feet;
Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.
or..............
Austin Clarke:
When night stirred at sea,
An the fire brought a crowd in
They say that her beauty
Was music in mouth
And few in the candlelight
Thought her too proud,
For the house of the planter
Is known by the trees.
Men that had seen her
Drank deep and were silent,
The women were speaking
Wherever she went --
As a bell that is rung
Or a wonder told shyly
And O she was the Sunday
In every week.
women always love men who know how to make poems. so, whoever can make love poems, you are very attractive. congratulations!
So its not really a poem, but I have a cute story.
I was talking with a love of mine a while ago and I told her there is nothing in the world I would rather see than her smile.
And she said "even the seven wonders?"
And on the spot I said, "You are the seven wonders of my world; your voice, your laugh, your eyes, your smile, your kiss, your touch, and your love"
To which she gave me a very teary kiss. :)
Corny I know.
For a great modern recreation of one, try this one by the superb George Elliot Clarke:
The River Pilgrim: A Letter
At eighteen, I thought the Sixhibaoux wept.
Five years younger, you were lush, beautiful
Mystery; your limbs — scrolls of deep water.
Before your home, lost in roses, I swooned,
Drunken in the village of Whylah Falls,
And brought you apple blossoms you refused,
Wanting Hand Snow woodsmoke blues and dried smelts,
Wanting some milljerk's dumb, unlettered love.
That May, freight chimed zylophone tracks that rang
To Montréal. I scribbled postcard odes,
Painted le fleuve Saint-Laurent come la Seine —
Sad watercolours for Negro exiles
In France, and drempt Paris white with lepers,
Soft cripples who finger pawns under elms,
Drink blurry into young debaucery,
Their glasses clear with Cointreau, rain and tears.
continued here
http://www.library.utoronto.ca/canpo...arke/poem1.htm
Um, poems are not the way to melt a girls heart. If you can't manage to touch her heart by simply being in her presence, then no poem will ever, ever, ever "melt" ( terrible term ) her heart. They're corny. Songs are different, songs are a lot better. But honestly, if you insist on dropping the poem on her, at least wait till you know her for a very, very long time because there is nothing less romantic than receiving a poem from someone who barely knows you because you KNOW it's complete and utter Iamgoingtoswearhere, bull****. So it ruins it.
But yeah, stay away from the poems. If you do give her one though, make sure it's your own. And that it's good. Getting a badly written poem isn't romantic. It's really quite lame.