Love Poems

Did not the heavenly rhetoric of thine eye,
'Gainst whom the world could not hold argument,
Persuade my heart to this false perjury?
Vows for thee broke deserve not punishment.
A woman I forswore; but I will prove,
Thou being a goddess, I forswore not thee :
My vow was earthly, thou a heavenly love;
Thy grace being gain'd cures all disgrace in me
My vow was breath, and breath a vapour is;
Then though, fair sun, that on this earth dost shine,
Exhale this vapour now, in thee it is,
If broken, then it is no fault of mine.
If by me broke, what fool is not so wise
To break an oath to win a paradise?

Translations synopsizes a dozen new books, including Erotic Love Poems from India by Andrew Schelling, a Naropa prof whom I've heard read at the Many Mountains Moving monthly literary salon. New chancellors of the Academy include Robert Pinsky, Susan Stewart and C. K. Williams.

Formerly single Bostoniennes have much advice to give on the art of dating Boston men. First, understand that Boston is a beer town. Therefore, step one of dating Boston men often begins at one of the city's fine breweries. John Harvard's brew house, for example, is a prime stop on many Ladies' Night Out lists. Second, given the city's bevy of educated youth, dating Boston guys often means engaging in intelligent conversation. So strengthen your vocab and exercise your mind. Finally, every true Bostonian has a soft spot for the Red Sox and...

His other film Love Letters from the War is running after that, for anyone who is a glutton for emotional punishment. I have seen this before and it is pretty special. For what it is worth, I have found a publicity shot (wow! a documentary director allowed space in a publicity pack), and popped it here to the left. He was probably extremely cold, and they were worried it might snow, thus ruining the verisimilitude gained by dragging a crew to Gallipoli.

Being one of the many college students, twenty-somethings and others in the dating world having trouble finding ways to please there first date, significant other or spouse. I know what its like to impress the other. I was tired of always paying a load of money trying to woo them. So, now that spring is in the air, I’ve put my ATM card aside and found ways to have fun and romantic dates without having to spend all your hard earned dollars.

How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.
I love thee to the depth and breadth and height
My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight
For the ends of Being and ideal Grace.
I love thee to the level of everyday's
Most quiet need, by sun and candle-light.
I love thee freely, as men strive for Right;
I love thee purely, as they turn from Praise.
I love thee with a passion put to use
In my old griefs, and with my childhood's faith.
I love thee with a love I seemed to lose
With my lost saints, --- I love thee with the breath,
Smiles, tears, of all my life! --- and, if God choose,
I shall but love thee better after death.

Woman Sends Husband In Iraq Letters On Vietnam Notes:

And Nutter, 56, is the oldest person serving in the battalion of about 1,200.

The letters he now receives are being written on the back of the love letters he sent from Vietnam so many years ago.

How many ways do I love thee dear?
Tell me how many thoughts there be
In the atmosphere
Of a new fall'n year,
Whose white and sable hours appear
The latest flake of Eternity:-
So many times do I love thee dear.

How many times do I love again?
Tell me how many beads there are
In a silver chain
Of evening rain,
Unravelled from the tumbling main,
And threading the eye of a yellow star:-
So many times do I love again.

One day I wrote her name upon the strand,
But came the waves and washed it away:
Again I wrote it with a second hand,
But came the tide and made my pains his prey.
"Vain man," said she, "that dost in vain essay
A mortal thing so to immortalize;
For I myself shall like to this decay,
And eke my name be wiped out likewise."
"Not so," quoth I; "let baser things devise
To lie in dust, but you shall live by fame;
My verse your virtues rare shall eternize,
And in the heavens write you glorious name:
Where, whenas Death shall all the world subdue,
Our love shall live, and later life renew."

and the favorite of the week: You Drive Me crazy: Love Poems for Real Life edited by Mary Esselman and Elizabeth Velez… Shakespeare to Neruda… great selections, very poignant. See yesterday’s Cummings for a sample… great idea, great book.

this didn’t start as a poem
it really started as a thought
about the beauty of struggle
the opening of the mind
the brush of the wind

i find myself lacking
the freedom of words
to describe
the intense emotions
of this love

Hakimi and I had been fast friends since our days at USC Hillel, though he had always been one to drop out of touch for extended periods of time. So it came as only a mild surprise when we learned he was engaged. I say mild because: A) none of us knew he was dating. And Two) we learned the news not from him, but from Rabbi Dov Wagner. Immediately, my friend called him up. “So, two questions for you,” he said casually. “First, a couple of us are getting together. Are you available for dinner Saturday night?” “Of course”, he responded,...

For Wagner, the important thing was approaching the dating arena with the right mindset. “So many young people come up to me and say, ‘Rabbi, I’m dating a non-Jew, but don’t worry – I have no intention of marrying her.’ And it tears me up inside. Why do that to yourself?” In his view, you’re just setting yourself up to get hurt at the end of the relationship and, as a result, become less trusting the next time around. The difference is in the goals. For Hakimi, dating wasn’t an end in itself – it was a means to an end.

Link: Longmire does Romance Novels.

Mark Longmire makes fun of Romance Novels. Mostly, their ridiculous covers. Funny stuff.

Listed below are links to weblogs that reference Longmire does Romance Novels:

Stand still, and I will read to thee
A lecture, Love, in Love's philosophy.
These three hours that we have spent,
Walking here, two shadows went
Along with us, which we ourselves produced.
But, now the sun is just above our head,
We do those shadows tread,
And to brave clearness all things are reduced.
So whilst our infant loves did grow,
Disguises did, and shadows, flow
From us and our cares ; but now 'tis not so.

That love hath not attain'd the highest degree,
Which is still diligent lest others see.

Except our loves at this noon stay,
We shall new shadows make the other way.
As the first were made to blind
Others, these which come behind
Will work upon ourselves, and blind our eyes.
If our loves faint, and westerwardly decline,
To me thou, falsely, thine
And I to thee mine actions shall disguise.
The morning shadows wear away,
But these grow longer all the day ;
But O ! love's day is short, if love decay.

Love is a growing, or full constant light,
And his short minute, after noon, is night.

Apparently gay people aren't that insane, because in the straight world there is Evelyn the Food Whore. She cones guys on craigslist to take her to dinner, then orders insane amounts of food while purging during courses. Yup, hows that for on-line dating.

Was this the face that launched a thousand ships
And burnt the topless towers of Ilium?
Sweet Helen, make me immortal with a kiss.
Her lips suck forth my soul; see where it flies!
Come, Helen, come, give me my soul again.
Here I will dwell, for heaven be in these lips,
And all is dross that is not Helena.
I will be Paris, and for love of thee,
Instead of Troy, shall Wittenberg be sacked;
And I will combat with weak Menelaus,
And wear thy colors on my plumed crest;
Yea, I will wound Achilles in the heel,
And then return to Helen for a kiss.
Oh, thou art fairer than the evening air
Clad in the beauty of a thousand stars;
Brighter art thou than flaming Jupiter
When he appeared to hapless Semele;
More lovely than the monarch of the sky
In wanton Arethusa's azured arms;
And known but thou shalt be my paramour!

As an alternative to National Poetry Month, I propose that we have an International Anti-Poetry month. As part of the activities, all verse in public places will be covered over�from the Statue of Liberty to the friezes on many of our government buildings. Poetry will be removed from radio and TV (just as it is during the other eleven months of the year). Parents will be asked not to read Mother Goose and other rimes to their children but only ... fiction. Religious institutions will have to forego reading verse passages from the liturgy...

Keep your old love letters, throw away your old bank statements.

Love letters are a wonderful way to express your feelings to someone. They are not hard to create, if you give it some thought. Be sincere, a little unique, and you'll certainly bring a smile to your love's face and a joyous flutter to the heart.

1. NO CANNED POETRY. "What does that mean?" Everyone copies some romantic verse from a famous author to put in their love letters. Be different and original. Write a poem yourself. Or if you're not talented at that sort of thing, simply put down a few lines from the heart about how you feel.

Good luck with your love letters. I'm sure there are lots of other ideas you can come up with on your own. Create lots of romance and have fun!

That is what a wise owl once said. And that is kind of the situation that I feel myself in. It is almost becoming a sense of loneliness. There are two friends that I really enjoy hanging out with, but they are dating. I am continually feeling more and more like the fifth wheel. I have stated to try to limit my time with them because they are dating each other, not me, and I would like to give them their space even though I know that to them I am not imposing and they enjoy my company.

The thing is that I am starting to see more and more of my friends dating, getting married, having kids, and I am watching from the sidelines. My best friend is married and has a kid on the way. Some friends that I grew up with are married with kids. I am finding more and more of my friends dating, and I guess in a way I do envy them.

Since everyone else is getting in on the Poetry Month act, I figured I’d better do it, too. This poem is from one of my favorite writers, Edgar Allan Poe. I lived in Baltimore, which means I’ve been to Poe’s grave at Westminster Church and his house on Amity Street. I even dated the curator of the Poe House when I was in high school. He was my first love. I have many fond memories, all related to Edgar Allan Poe.

This sweet poem is called “To F___,” which I believe refers to Frances Sargent Osgood. It was published in 1845. It’s a lovely poem. Most people think of “The Raven” and horror stories when they think of Poe. They haven’t read his love poems and his satire.

To F____

Beloved! amid the earnest woes
That crowd around my earthly path —
(Drear path, alas! where grows
Not even one lonely rose) —
My soul at least a solace hath
In dreams of thee, and therein knows
An Eden of bland repose.

And thus thy memory is to me
Like some enchanted far-off isle
In some tumultuous sea —
Some ocean throbbing far and free
With storm — but where meanwhile
Serenest skies continually
Just o’er that one bright island smile.

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Now that I'm married, I no longer have any use for this dating tip, but it's such a good one it seems a shame not to share it.

Find the Love of Your Life

(and More Love Quizzes) at Your New Romance.

I read Redeeming Love in high school, and it is still one of my favorite romances.

On the surface this is a romance novel about Angel and Michael. Angel's life was horrific, sold into prostitution at a young age, she's rescued by Michael, and forced into marriage with him. Forced because she doesn't want to marry him. She's perfectly happy with her life and any change terrifies her. She'd rather stay with the familiar than step out and try something new.

April 10, 2005 in Christian Fiction, Romance | Permalink

For shame! deny that thou bear'st love to any,
Who for thyself art so unprovident.
Grant, if thou wilt, thou art beloved of many,
But that thou none lovest is most evident;
For thou art so possess'd with murderous hate
That 'gainst thyself thou stick'st not to conspire.
Seeking that beauteous roof to ruinate
Which to repair should be thy chief desire.
O, change thy thought, that I may change my mind!
Shall hate be fairer lodged than gentle love?
Be, as thy presence is, gracious and kind,
Or to thyself at least kind-hearted prove:
Make thee another self, for love of me,
That beauty still may live in thine or thee.

Whats going on my fellow bloggers? Some crazy� shit has happened lately. I think I am gonna get back together with my ex fiance. That is probably dumb...but owell.I really dont care at this point, I am tired of dating crazy boys..I would rather just date one i know how to deal with.

We had to write love letters to each other.... I loved the letter I recieved. I feel like the luckiest, richest woman in the world. Ronnie says I am beautiful, a wonderful step mother and I have created him a "perfect daughter" (minus behavorial issues)! And that church is a must for our family to start attending, I agree. I really feel that we left there on the same page...

Let me not to the marriage of true minds
Admit impediments. Love is not love
Which alters when it alteration finds,
Or bends with the remover to remove:
Oh, no! it is an ever-fix'd mark,
That looks on tempests and is never shaken;
It is the star to every wandering bark,
Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken.
Love's not time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks
Within his bending sickle's compass come'
Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,
But bears it out even to the edge of doom.
If this be error and upon me proved,
I never writ, nor no man ever loved.

What is beauty, saith my sufferings, then?
If all the pens that ever poets held
Had fed the feeling of their masters' thoughts,
And every sweetness that inspir'd their hearts,
Their minds, and muses on admired themes;
If all the heavenly quintessence they still
From their immortal flowers of poesy,
Wherein, as in a mirror, we perceive
The highest reaches of a human wit;
If these had made one poem's period,
And all combin'd in beauty's worthiness,
Yet should their hover in their restless heads
One thought, one grace, one wonder, at the least,
Which into words no virtue can digest.

I don't subscribe to the Wall St. Journal, but one of the mailing lists I'm on (for the Science Fiction Poetry Association) is discussing an article that appeared in a recent edition about a high school teacher who clips out articles from the business pages and has students compose love poems based on words they pull out, using the given headline as their title. I think this is a great idea!

Thou blind man's mark, thou fool's self-chosen snare,
Fond fancy's scum, and dregs of scattered thought;
Band of all evils, cradle of causeless care;
Thou web of will, whose end is never wrought:
Desire, Desire! I have too dearly bought,
With price of mangled mind, thy worthless ware;
Too long, too long, asleep thou hast me brought,
Who shouldst my mind to higher things prepare,
But yet in vain thou hast my ruin sought,
In vain thou mad'st me to vain things aspire,
In vain thou kindlest all thy smoky fire,
For Virtue hath this better lesson taught:
Within myself to seek my only hire,
Desiring nought but how to kill Desire.

It’s also my take on the romance genre. The death of romance, pah. What’s down? Sales of mass market paperbacks. But what’s up? Sales of trade paperbacks and ebooks! I don’t believe for a minute that romance is in a downward trend. I think people’s buying habits have shifted to different formats, but it’s still romance that’s selling in trade and ebook. Um, and hardcover. Let’s not forget that one.

I hear all these grumbles about how this, that and the other thing is “killing” the genre. Romance doesn’t die easily. It’s about something central to who we are as human beings, the need to love and be loved. And it’s also about faith in the future, the “happily ever after", the idea that life can be good and the future can be good. Not gloom and doom. So all this gloom and doom mumbo jumbo is just, well, anti-romance!

Yes, it’s hard to find a really, really good romance. It’s hard to find excellence in ANY field, which is why it’s sought after by consumers and strived for by the worker. In the case of romance, the worker is the author striving to get it right, to deliver the goods and achieve excellence and the consumer is the reader who wants the promises inherent in a romance to be fulfilled. There are awards and so on to recognize excellence in every field of human endeavor precisely because it isn’t the norm. The norm is “pretty...

If all the world and love were young,
And truth in every shepherd's tongue,
These pretty pleasures might me move
To live with thee and be thy Love.

But Time drives flocks from field to fold;
When rivers rage and rocks grow cold;
And Philomel becometh dumb;
The rest complains of cares to come.

The flowers do fade, and wanton fields
To wayward Winter reckoning yields:
A honey tongue, a heart of gall,
Is fancy's spring, but sorrow's fall.

Thy gowns, thy shoes, thy beds of roses,
Thy cap, thy kirtle, and thy posies,
Soon break, soon wither—soon forgotten,
In folly ripe, in reason rotten.

Thy belt of straw and ivy-buds,
Thy coral clasps and amber studs,—
All these in me no means can move
To come to thee and be thy Love.

But could youth last, and love still breed,
Had joys no date, nor age no need,
Then these delights my mind might move
To live with thee and be thy Love.