My Favorite Love Poems

Well, if you've read through this blog or you've read some of the articles that I've published around the www, you'll know that I think just about anything can be the subject of a poem. I've believed that for a long time. Perhaps my earliest influence who swung me this direction was the great William Carlos Williams: imho, his famous piece, The Red Wheelbarrow, somewhat encapsulates this idea:

so much depends
upon

a red wheel
barrow

glazed with rain
water

beside the white
chickens.

Yes, indeed, you can write poetry about anything. That having been said, one of poetry's prime territories is love. That's right... love... which is mysterious and, you know, how can it really be discussed in a normal conversational way? So, love seems to lend itself quite well to poetry. In this section of the site, I'm going to collect my personal, favorite love poems. Of course, this is so very subjective... there's no wrong or right, but, I think it's going to make me feel good to assemble my favorites here together. I hope that you enjoy this and that they perhaps may even change your life a bit, as they have certainly done for me. I'm going to be adding to this page as I go along, so, you may want to check back once in a while.

I'm also going to mix in some love poems that I've written over the years. This isn't to say that I think I'm this or I think I'm that or anything of the sort. The goal is to create a fun resource. Did I mention somewhere how I find so much academic stuff to be dry. Well, things shouldn't have to be like that. Am I getting of track? Digressing? Well, that's sort of the idea...... it just isn't important to constantly make sense when the terrain is love poems.

So, we kick it off with ee. I've enjoyed his work... I have little ee snippets in my memory that come to me from time to time... about "being crazy enough to give me a daisy" and, that's the best part of poetry.... it improves the mind.

e.e. cummings

somewhere i have never traveled,gladly beyond
any experience,your eyes have their silence:
in your most frail gesture are things which enclose me,
or which i cannot touch because they are too near
your slightest look easily will unclose me
though i have closed myself as fingers,
you open always petal by petal myself as Spring opens
(touching skillfully, mysteriously)her first rose
or if your wish be to close me,i and
my life will shut very beautifully,suddenly,
as when the heart of this flower imagines
the snow carefully everywhere descending;
nothing which we are to perceive in this world equals
the power of your intense fragility: whose texture
compels me with the colour of its countries,
rendering death and forever with each breathing
(i do not know what it is about you that closes
and opens;only something in me understands
the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses)
nobody,not even the rain, has such small hands

My Favorite Love Poems Continued