Wonderful..loved this. Still nothing to meet the Irish when it comes to a love poem.
Wonderful..loved this. Still nothing to meet the Irish when it comes to a love poem.
This is one of my favorites: By Robert Graves
She tells her love while half asleep;
In the dark hours,
With half-words whispered low:
As Earth stirs in her winter sleep
And puts out grass and flowers
Despite the snow
Despite the falling snow
"Deep in the fundamental heart of mind and universe...there is a reason."
- Douglas Adams
We know that one times one is one,
but an unicorn times a pear
have no idea what it is.
We know that five minus four is one
but a cloud minus a sailboat
have no idea what it is.
We know that eight
divided by eight is one,
but a mountain divided by a goat
have no idea what it is.
We know that one plus one is two,
but me and you, oh,
we have no idea what it is.
Oh, but a comforter
times a rabbit
is a red-headed one of course,
a cabbage divided by a flag
is a pig,
a horse minus a street-car
is an angel,
a cauliflower plus an egg
is an astragalus.
Only you and me
multiplied and divided
added and subtracted
remain the same...
Vanish from my mind!
Come back in my heart!
There´s a wonderful one, but it´s in Spanish. It´s called Cántico Espiritual, by San Juan de la Cruz.
I´ve found a very nice translation on this site, http://www.amancioprada.com/cant_i_texto.htm , there goes an extract:
Why piercedst thou this heart
And heal'dst it not upon the selfsame day?
Why usedst robbers'art
Yet leavest thus thy prey
And tak'st it not eternally away?
End thou my torments here,
Since none but thou can remedy my plight;
And to these eyes appear,
For thou art all their light
And save for thee I value not their sight.
but if any of you understands Spanish, please do read the original (http://users.ipfw.edu/JEHLE/poesia/canticoe.htm), it´s just incomparable, specially if you hear it sung by Spanish singer Amancio Prada.
Hello everyone! Just signed here. I hope to meet friends and mates here. Please do write me, i want to make acquaintance of as many people here as possible
Don’t Let Them See You Cry
Don’t let them see you cry;
Be it in good or in bad,
Whether you’re staying or starving,
Whether in pinch or punch,
Don’t let them see you cry
Laugh and smile as though you’ve lots.
Don’t let them see you cry;
Be it in sorrow or in shame,
Be it in scarcity or in plenty,
Whether in sighing or shouting,
Don’t let them see you cry;
Laugh and smile as though you’ve lots.
Don’t let them see you cry;
Be it in pain OR in pang,
Be it in downs or ups; be it
Rain or shine, don’t let them see you cry
Laugh and smile as though you’ve lots
Last edited by Magdalene; 11-01-2006 at 09:13 PM. Reason: I didn't copy paste the poem title
My favorite
This is my favorite love poem, it's by Elizabeth Browning - greatest love poet.
If thou must love me, let it be for nought
Except for love's sake only. Do not say
"I love her for her smile--her look--her way
Of speaking gently,--for a trick of thought
That falls in well with mine, and certes brought
A sense of pleasant ease on such a day" -
For these things in themselves, Beloved, may
Be changed, or change for thee,--and love, so wrought,
May be unwrought so. Neither love me for
Thine own dear pity's wiping my cheeks dry, -
A creature might forget to weep, who bore
Thy comfort long, and lose thy love thereby!
But love me for love's sake, that evermore
Thou may'st love on, through love's eternity.
Hope and memory have one daughter and her name is art.
W.B. Yeats
I'm fond of Catullus and his love poems concerning his amica, Lesbia. Translations are by Guy Lee.
Nulli se dicit mulier mea nubere malle
quam mihi, non si se Iuppiter ipse petat.
dicit - sed mulier cupido quod dicit amanti
in uento et rapida scribere oportet aqua.
My woman says there's no one she would rather wed
Than me, not even if asked by Jove himself.
Says - but what a woman says to an eager lover
One should write on the wind and the running water.
Odi et amo. quare id faciam fortasse requiris?
nescio sed fieri sentio et excrucior.
I hate and I love. Perhaps you're asking why I do that?
I don't know, but I feel it happening, and am racked.
And a fragment, translated by Andrew Miller, probably by Sappho:
The moon has set,
and the Pleiades; it is
midnight, and time is passing;
and I lie alone.
That's a tough question. "What do you think is the best love poem?" There
are so many, and that is what I call a super-genre of poetry.
There are many sub-genres under the topic of love.
If you break it down into two smaller categories:
Love Gone Right and Love Gone Wrong.
The two can be broken down into even smaller sub-categories.
I probably have a favorite from each of them, but for just "Love" in general;
I don't particularly have a favorite out of them all.
John Millington Synges ' Is it a month' is a beautiful love poem and should be recognised for its romantic content.
When first I looked into your eyes
each breath became a thousand sighs.
My heart drummed out a thunder beat
I glowed with joy from head to feet.
The hand of love had touched my soul,
as the bell of destiny began to toll.
The tide of love began to rise,
the world was filled with summer skies.
My sodden clouds of cold and grey
glowed with gold, then wisped away.
A brilliant rainbow arched across,
as waves of love began to toss.
The air was filled with lovebird cries,
when I first looked into your eyes.
When I first looked into your eyes,
all time and space were paralyzed
And in that instant, I was shown
a universe I had never known.
I dwell there still, in Paradise,
when I look into your eyes.
You are friendly, kind and caring
Sensitive, loyal and understanding
Humorous, fun, secure and true
Always there... yes that's you.
Special, accepting, exciting and wise
Truthful and helpful, with honest blue eyes
Confiding, forgiving, cheerful and bright
Yes that's you... not one bit of spite.
You're one of a kind, different from others
Generous, charming, but not one that smothers
Optimistic, thoughtful, happy and game
But not just another... in the long chain.
Appreciative, warm and precious like gold
Our friendship won't tarnish or ever grow old
You'll always be there, I know that is true
I'll always be here... always for you.
- Written and owned by Angela Lee Hillsley
Here are two that I rate among the best;
Sonnets
VIII
And you as well must die, belovèd dust,
And all your beauty stand you in no stead;
This flawless, vital hand, this perfect head,
This body of flame and steel, before the gust
Of Death, or under his autumnal frost,
Shall be as any leaf, be no less dead
Than the first leaf that fell,–this wonder fled,
Altered, estranged, disintegrated, lost.
Nor shall my love avail you in your hour.
In spite of all my love, you will arise
Upon that day and wander down the air
Obscurely as the unattended flower,
It mattering not how beautiful you were,
Or how belovèd above all else that dies.
~Edna St. Vincent Milay
From 'Second April' 1921
THE TRIUMPH OF TIME
(abridged)
...The loves and hours of the life of a man,
They are swift and sad, being born of the sea.
Hours that rejoice and regret for a span,
Born with a man's breath, mortal as he;
Loves that are lost ere they come to birth,
Weeds of the wave, without fruit upon earth.
I lose what I long for, save what I can,
My love, my love, and no love for me!
It is not much that a man can save
On the sands of life, in the straits of time,
Who swims in sight of the great third wave
That never a swimmer shall cross or climb.
Some waif washed up with the strays and spars
That ebb-tide shows to the shore and the stars;
Weed from the water, grass from a grave,
A broken blossom, a ruined rhyme.
There will no man do for your sake, I think,
What I would have done for the least word said.
I had wrung life dry for your lips to drink,
Broken it up for your daily bread:
Body for body and blood for blood,
As the flow of the full sea risen to flood
That yearns and trembles before it sink,
I had given, and lain down for you, glad and dead.
Yea, hope at highest and all her fruit,
And time at fullest and all his dower,
I had given you surely, and life to boot,
Were we once made one for a single hour.
But now, you are twain, you are cloven apart,
Flesh of his flesh, but heart of my heart;
And deep in one is the bitter root,
And sweet for one is the lifelong flower.
ALGERNON CHARLES SWINBURNE
Here's To Thy Health
Here's to thy health, my bonie lass,
Gude nicht and joy be wi' thee;
I'll come nae mair to thy bower-door,
To tell thee that I lo'e thee.
O dinna think, my pretty pink,
But I can live without thee:
I vow and swear I dinna care,
How lang ye look about ye.
Thou'rt aye sae free informing me,
Thou hast nae mind to marry;
I'll be as free informing thee,
Nae time hae I to tarry:
I ken thy frien's try ilka means
Frae wedlock to delay thee;
Depending on some higher chance,
But fortune may betray thee.
I ken they scorn my low estate,
But that does never grieve me;
For I'm as free as any he;
Sma' siller will relieve me.
I'll count my health my greatest wealth,
Sae lang as I'll enjoy it;
I'll fear nae scant, I'll bode nae want,
As lang's I get employment.
But far off fowls hae feathers fair,
And, aye until ye try them,
Tho' they seem fair, still have a care;
They may prove waur than I am.
But at twal' at night, when the moon shines bright,
My dear, I'll come and see thee;
For the man that loves his mistress weel,
Nae travel makes him weary.
Rabbie
There once was a scotsman named Drew
Who put too much wine in his stew
He felt a bit drunk
And fell off his bunk
And landed smack into his shoe ~(C) Ms Niamh Anne King
When purusing on "Poet's Corner", just now, I found this poem and thought it was great. I have long been a fan of e.e.cummings, so I really like this one:
if i believe
if i believe
in death be sure
of this
it is
because you have loved me,
moon and sunset
stars and flowers
gold creshendo and silver muting
of seatides
i trusted not,
one night
when in my fingers
drooped your shining body
when my heart
sang between your perfect
breasts
darkness and beauty of stars
was on my mouth petals danced
against my eyes
and down
the singing reaches of
my soul
spoke
the green--
greeting pale
departing irrevocable
sea
i knew thee death.
and when
i have offered up each fragrant
night,when all my days
shall have before a certain
face become
white
perfume
only,
from the ashes
then
thou wilt rise and thou
wilt come to her and brush
the mischief from her eyes and fold
her
mouth the new
flower with
thy unimaginable
wings,where dwells the breath
of all persisting stars
e.e. cummings
"It's so mysterious, the land of tears."
Chapter 7, The Little Prince ~ Antoine de Saint-Exupéry
While verses from Elizabeth Barrett Browning's 'Sonnets from the Portuguese' have been cited several times on this thread - So far, not the following verse, which remains my personal favorite from that collection;
Go From Me
Go from me. Yet I feel that I shall stand
Henceforward in thy shadow. Nevermore
Alone upon the threshold of my door
Of individual life, I shall command
The uses of my soul, nor lift my hand
Serenely in the sunshine as before,
Without the sense of that which I forbore--
Thy touch upon the palm.
The widest land
Doom takes to part us, leaves thy heart in mine
With pulses that beat double. What I do
And what I dream include thee, as the wine
Must taste of its own grapes. And when I sue
God for myself, He hears that name of thine,
And sees within my eyes the tears of two.
Elizabeth Barrett Browning
-Edna St. Vincent Millay's Sonnet V from 'Second April' should be included on this list as well;
V
Once more into my arid days like dew,
Like wind from an oasis, or the sound
Of cold sweet water bubbling underground,
A treacherous messenger, the thought of you
Comes to destroy me; once more I renew
Firm faith in your abundance, whom I found
Long since to be but just one other mound
Of sand, whereon no green thing ever grew.
And once again, and wiser in no wise,
I chase your colored phantom on the air,
And sob and curse and fall and weep and rise
And stumble pitifully on to where,
Miserable and lost, with stinging eyes,
Once more I clasp,--and there is nothing there.
Edna St. Vincent Millay
Posting Permissions
Reply With Quote
