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LOVE POETRY, BITCHES

Metzger MeisterMetzger Meister It Gets Worsebefore it gets any better.Registered User regular
DAT'S RIGHT

HOW BOUT SOME OF THIS SHIT
Sonnet XVII

I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz,
or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off.
I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,
in secret, between the shadow and the soul.

I love you as the plant that never blooms
but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers;
thanks to your love a certain solid fragrance,
risen from the earth, lives darkly in my body.

I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where.
I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride;
so I love you because I know no other way

than this: where I does not exist, nor you,
so close that your hand on my chest is my hand,
so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep.

I AIN'T EVEN STARTED YET YOU FUCKS
Annabel Lee

It was many and many a year ago,
In a kingdom by the sea,
That a maiden there lived whom you may know
By the name of Annabel Lee;
And this maiden she lived with no other thought
Than to love and be loved by me.

I was a child and she was a child,
In this kingdom by the sea,
But we loved with a love that was more than love—
I and my Annabel Lee—
With a love that the wingèd seraphs of Heaven
Coveted her and me.

And this was the reason that, long ago,
In this kingdom by the sea,
A wind blew out of a cloud, chilling
My beautiful Annabel Lee;
So that her highborn kinsmen came
And bore her away from me,
To shut her up in a sepulchre
In this kingdom by the sea.

The angels, not half so happy in Heaven,
Went envying her and me—
Yes!—that was the reason (as all men know,
In this kingdom by the sea)
That the wind came out of the cloud by night,
Chilling and killing my Annabel Lee.

But our love it was stronger by far than the love
Of those who were older than we—
Of many far wiser than we—
And neither the angels in Heaven above
Nor the demons down under the sea
Can ever dissever my soul from the soul
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;

For the moon never beams, without bringing me dreams
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;
And the stars never rise, but I feel the bright eyes
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;
And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side
Of my darling—my darling—my life and my bride,
In her sepulchre there by the sea—
In her tomb by the sounding sea.
OH WHAT, YOU THINK A LADY CAN'T THROW DOWN SOME OF THIS SHIT!? YOU THINK A WOMAN CAN'T GET DOWN ON SOME VERSE, MOTHERFUCKER!?
Recuerdo

We were very tired, we were very merry—
We had gone back and forth all night on the ferry.
It was bare and bright, and smelled like a stable—
But we looked into a fire, we leaned across a table,
We lay on a hill-top underneath the moon;
And the whistles kept blowing, and the dawn came soon.

We were very tired, we were very merry—
We had gone back and forth all night on the ferry;
And you ate an apple, and I ate a pear,
From a dozen of each we had bought somewhere;
And the sky went wan, and the wind came cold,
And the sun rose dripping, a bucketful of gold.

We were very tired, we were very merry,
We had gone back and forth all night on the ferry.
We hailed, “Good morrow, mother!” to a shawl-covered head,
And bought a morning paper, which neither of us read;
And she wept, “God bless you!” for the apples and pears,
And we gave her all our money but our subway fares.

«13

Posts

  • Metzger MeisterMetzger Meister It Gets Worse before it gets any better.Registered User regular
    edited February 2014
    WE BOUT TO GO OLD-SCHOOL UP IN THIS HUMPTY-BUMPTY
    My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun;
    Coral is far more red than her lips' red;
    If snow be white, why then her breasts are dun;
    If hairs be wires, black wires grow on her head.
    I have seen roses damasked, red and white,
    But no such roses see I in her cheeks;
    And in some perfumes is there more delight
    Than in the breath that from my mistress reeks.
    I love to hear her speak, yet well I know
    That music hath a far more pleasing sound;
    I grant I never saw a goddess go;
    My mistress, when she walks, treads on the ground.
    And yet, by heaven, I think my love as rare
    As any she belied with false compare.


    What are some of your favorite love poems, friends? Tender verses written in earnest, soaring sonnets pledging eternal devotion, even dirty limericks! All are welcome.

    Metzger Meister on
  • HermanoHermano Registered User regular
    Robert Frost (1874–1963). Mountain Interval. 1920.

    1. The Road Not Taken


    TWO roads diverged in a yellow wood,
    And sorry I could not travel both
    And be one traveler, long I stood
    And looked down one as far as I could
    To where it bent in the undergrowth; 5

    Then took the other, as just as fair,
    And having perhaps the better claim,
    Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
    Though as for that the passing there
    Had worn them really about the same, 10

    And both that morning equally lay
    In leaves no step had trodden black.
    Oh, I kept the first for another day!
    Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
    I doubted if I should ever come back. 15

    I shall be telling this with a sigh
    Somewhere ages and ages hence:
    Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
    I took the one less traveled by,
    And that has made all the difference.


    PSN- AHermano
  • Metzger MeisterMetzger Meister It Gets Worse before it gets any better.Registered User regular
    That is a good poem, you have posted a Good Thing.

  • ArangArang HUEY LEWISRegistered User regular
    so it's just any poetry or love poetry or just good poetry or what? what? WHAT!?!?!?!?

    thenews.jpg
  • Metzger MeisterMetzger Meister It Gets Worse before it gets any better.Registered User regular
    hey it's a free country man post them Good Things!

    i just figured a love poetry thread would be appropriate. but all poetry is beautiful and what is Valentine's Day about if not celebrating beauty, hm?

    DO IT UP.

  • Grey GhostGrey Ghost Registered User regular
    edited February 2014
    If any woman ever deigns to marry me, this is probably gonna be read at the wedding at some point
    silently if,out of not knowable
    night’s utmost nothing,wanders a little guess
    (only which is this world)more of my life does
    not leap than with the mystery your smile

    sings or if(spiraling as luminous
    they climb oblivion)voices who are dreams,
    less into heaven certainly earth swims
    than each my deeper death becomes your kiss

    losing through you what seemed myself;i find
    selves unimaginably mine;beyond
    sorrow’s own joys and hoping’s very fears

    yours is the light by which my spirit’s born:
    yours is the darkness of my soul’s return
    –you are my sun,my moon,and all my stars

    e.e. cummings was the man, yo

    Grey Ghost on
  • HermanoHermano Registered User regular
    I thought the thread title was an instruction?

    That poem's totally about love anyway


    PSN- AHermano
  • tynictynic PICNIC BADASS Registered User, ClubPA regular
    And finally I'll say, goodbye
    farewell,
    don't oblige yourself to love me.
    I’m descending, out of my mind
    Or ascending to high degree of madness.
    How did you love?—you took from my demise.
    Ah, never mind.
    How did you love? You ruined love, loved poorly
    you didn't know any better

    My mind’s still alive, a bit. It's still alive,
    But hands fell down,
    And smells along with sounds too
    In little flocks, are fading out.

    and finally I'll say
    Good-bye,
    farewell,
    don't oblige yourself to love me.
    I’m going out of my mind
    Or ascending to high degree of madness ...

    Bella Akhmadulina

  • Metzger MeisterMetzger Meister It Gets Worse before it gets any better.Registered User regular
    an instruction and a description! WHY NOT BOTH

  • ArangArang HUEY LEWISRegistered User regular
    then I'm going to post kubla khan, the poem I like so well I've memorized part of it (this part)
    In Xanadu did Kubla Khan
    A stately pleasure-dome decree:
    Where Alph, the sacred river, ran
    Through caverns measureless to man
    Down to a sunless sea.

    So twice five miles of fertile ground
    With walls and towers were girdled round;
    And there were gardens bright with sinuous rills,
    Where blossomed many an incense-bearing tree;
    And here were forests ancient as the hills,
    Enfolding sunny spots of greenery.

    fake edit: that poem is actually just about frost's weird obsession with going on walks, amuse and amaze your friends with this fact

    thenews.jpg
  • sarukunsarukun RIESLING OCEANRegistered User regular
    I wrote this today.

    on this day of pink and red
    i think on all the times we've said
    "i love you, dear", and i feel sad
    to think how far you are, but glad
    to know that distance counts for naught
    when love like ours should chanced be wrought
    between two hearts who yet stay true
    so though I can't be next to you
    this special day, remember time
    just brings us closer, valentine

    It is short and not very good, because I wrote it in about 15 minutes.

    But I wrote it.

  • Metzger MeisterMetzger Meister It Gets Worse before it gets any better.Registered User regular
    i like it!

  • HermanoHermano Registered User regular
    Valentine by Carol Ann Duffy
    Not a red rose or a satin heart.

    I give you an onion.
    It is a moon wrapped in brown paper.
    It promises light
    like the careful undressing of love.

    Here.
    It will blind you with tears
    like a lover.
    It will make your reflection
    a wobbling photo of grief.

    I am trying to be truthful.

    Not a cute card or a kissogram.

    I give you an onion.
    Its fierce kiss will stay on your lips,
    possessive and faithful
    as we are,
    for as long as we are.

    Take it.
    Its platinum loops shrink to a wedding-ring,
    if you like.

    Lethal.
    Its scent will cling to your fingers,
    cling to your knife.


    PSN- AHermano
  • Centipede DamascusCentipede Damascus Registered User regular
    The ponies run, the girls are young,
    The odds are there to beat.
    You win a while, and then it's done
    Your little winning streak.
    And summoned now to deal
    With your invincible defeat,
    You live your life as if it's real,
    A thousand kisses deep.

    I'm turning tricks, I'm getting fixed,
    I'm back on Boogie Street.
    You lose your grip, and then you slip
    Into the Masterpiece.
    And maybe I had miles to drive,
    And promises to keep:
    You ditch it all to stay alive,
    A thousand kisses deep.

    And sometimes when the night is slow,
    The wretched and the meek,
    We gather up our hearts and go,
    A thousand kisses deep.

    Confined to sex, we pressed against
    The limits of the sea:
    I saw there were no oceans left
    For scavengers like me.
    I made it to the forward deck.
    I blessed our remnant fleet
    And then consented to be wrecked,
    A thousand kisses deep.

    I'm turning tricks, I'm getting fixed,
    I'm back on Boogie Street.
    I guess they won't exchange the gifts
    That you were meant to keep.
    And quiet is the thought of you,
    The file on you complete,
    Except what we forgot to do,
    A thousand kisses deep.

    And sometimes when the night is slow,
    The wretched and the meek,
    We gather up our hearts and go,
    A thousand kisses deep.
    Leonard Cohen, "A Thousand Kisses Deep"

  • Grey GhostGrey Ghost Registered User regular
    And my man Neruda knows what the hard times are like
    I can write the saddest poem of all tonight.

    Write, for instance: "The night is full of stars,
    and the stars, blue, shiver in the distance."

    The night wind whirls in the sky and sings.

    I can write the saddest poem of all tonight.
    I loved her, and sometimes she loved me too.

    On nights like this, I held her in my arms.
    I kissed her so many times under the infinite sky.

    She loved me, sometimes I loved her.
    How could I not have loved her large, still eyes?

    I can write the saddest poem of all tonight.
    To think I don't have her. To feel that I've lost her.

    To hear the immense night, more immense without her.
    And the poem falls to the soul as dew to grass.

    What does it matter that my love couldn't keep her.
    The night is full of stars and she is not with me.

    That's all. Far away, someone sings. Far away.
    My soul is lost without her.

    As if to bring her near, my eyes search for her.
    My heart searches for her and she is not with me.

    The same night that whitens the same trees.
    We, we who were, we are the same no longer.

    I no longer love her, true, but how much I loved her.
    My voice searched the wind to touch her ear.

    Someone else's. She will be someone else's. As she once
    belonged to my kisses.
    Her voice, her light body. Her infinite eyes.

    I no longer love her, true, but perhaps I love her.
    Love is so short and oblivion so long.

    Because on nights like this I held her in my arms,
    my soul is lost without her.

    Although this may be the last pain she causes me,
    and this may be the last poem I write for her.

  • Metzger MeisterMetzger Meister It Gets Worse before it gets any better.Registered User regular
    edited February 2014
    here's one i wrote!

    The wind is sighing softly
    Whispering at my window pane
    Her hair is sylvan moonlight
    She seems to know my name.
    She’s soothing in the summer
    Rolling cross the golden plain
    She cools the sweat upon my brow
    And she brings the gentle rain.
    She is beautiful in autumn
    In a golden gown of swirling leaves
    That she has plucked from quaking branches
    And stolen from the trees.
    She is bitter in the winter
    In a shroud of gray and white
    She sweeps the snow into a whirlwind
    With wailing cries into the night.
    She is most gentle in the springtime
    When infant leaves are green again
    And as she dances in the garden
    She gently calls my name.


    it's pretty bad!

    also, what do you guys look for in your poetry? are you fans of the experimental, non-traditional stuff? cuz i've noticed that i tend to gravitate more towards the sort of structured, old-school type of poetry.

    edit: i had to restrain myself from making a Shrek joke after that one, Hermano.

    Metzger Meister on
  • Darth WaiterDarth Waiter Elrond Hubbard Mordor XenuRegistered User regular
    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.

    William Butler Yeats

  • Grey GhostGrey Ghost Registered User regular
    Ted Kooser, doggs
    After Years

    Today, from a distance, I saw you
    walking away, and without a sound
    the glittering face of a glacier
    slid into the sea. An ancient oak
    fell in the Cumberlands, holding only
    a handful of leaves, and an old woman
    scattering corn to her chickens looked up
    for an instant. At the other side
    of the galaxy, a star thirty-five times
    the size of our own sun exploded
    and vanished, leaving a small green spot
    on the astronomer's retina
    as he stood on the great open dome
    of my heart with no one to tell.

  • KwoaruKwoaru Confident Smirk Flawless Golden PecsRegistered User regular
    edited February 2014
    also, what do you guys look for in your poetry? are you fans of the experimental, non-traditional stuff? cuz i've noticed that i tend to gravitate more towards the sort of structured, old-school type of poetry.

    if a poem doesn't follow at least some rules of rhyme or meter then I have no patience for it

    Kwoaru on
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  • HermanoHermano Registered User regular
    An Arundel Tomb
    BY PHILIP LARKIN

    Side by side, their faces blurred,
    The earl and countess lie in stone,
    Their proper habits vaguely shown
    As jointed armour, stiffened pleat,
    And that faint hint of the absurd—
    The little dogs under their feet.

    Such plainness of the pre-baroque
    Hardly involves the eye, until
    It meets his left-hand gauntlet, still
    Clasped empty in the other; and
    One sees, with a sharp tender shock,
    His hand withdrawn, holding her hand.

    They would not think to lie so long.
    Such faithfulness in effigy
    Was just a detail friends would see:
    A sculptor’s sweet commissioned grace
    Thrown off in helping to prolong
    The Latin names around the base.

    They would not guess how early in
    Their supine stationary voyage
    The air would change to soundless damage,
    Turn the old tenantry away;
    How soon succeeding eyes begin
    To look, not read. Rigidly they

    Persisted, linked, through lengths and breadths
    Of time. Snow fell, undated. Light
    Each summer thronged the glass. A bright
    Litter of birdcalls strewed the same
    Bone-riddled ground. And up the paths
    The endless altered people came,

    Washing at their identity.
    Now, helpless in the hollow of
    An unarmorial age, a trough
    Of smoke in slow suspended skeins
    Above their scrap of history,
    Only an attitude remains:

    Time has transfigured them into
    Untruth. The stone fidelity
    They hardly meant has come to be
    Their final blazon, and to prove
    Our almost-instinct almost true:
    What will survive of us is love.


    PSN- AHermano
  • UsagiUsagi Nah Registered User regular
    edited February 2014
    Every time I kiss you
    After a long separation
    I feel
    I am putting a hurried love letter
    In a red mailbox.
    My lover asks me:
    "What is the difference between me and the sky?"
    The difference, my love,
    Is that when you laugh,
    I forget about the sky.

    Usagi on
  • GethGeth Legion Perseus VeilRegistered User, Moderator, Penny Arcade Staff, Vanilla Staff vanilla

    image

    Unidentified Aerial Target has been detected and destroyed. Moving to recover debris at crash site.


  • Centipede DamascusCentipede Damascus Registered User regular
    Kwoaru wrote: »
    also, what do you guys look for in your poetry? are you fans of the experimental, non-traditional stuff? cuz i've noticed that i tend to gravitate more towards the sort of structured, old-school type of poetry.

    if a poem doesn't follow at least some rules of rhyme or meter then I have no patience for it

    "Writing free verse is like playing tennis with the net down." - Robert Frost

  • Grey GhostGrey Ghost Registered User regular
    Usagi wrote: »
    Every time I kiss you
    After a long separation
    I feel
    I am putting a hurried love letter
    In a red mailbox.
    My lover asks me:
    "What is the difference between me and the sky?"
    The difference, my love,
    Is that when you laugh,
    I forget about the sky.

    Holy shit this guy is a pro

  • HermanoHermano Registered User regular
    I do not read enough poetry


    PSN- AHermano
  • UsagiUsagi Nah Registered User regular
    Grey Ghost wrote: »
    Usagi wrote: »
    Every time I kiss you
    After a long separation
    I feel
    I am putting a hurried love letter
    In a red mailbox.
    My lover asks me:
    "What is the difference between me and the sky?"
    The difference, my love,
    Is that when you laugh,
    I forget about the sky.

    Holy shit this guy is a pro

    I have no power to change you
    or explain your ways
    Never believe a man can change a woman
    Those men are pretenders
    who think
    that they created woman
    from one of their ribs
    Woman does not emerge from a man's rib's, not ever,
    it's he who emerges from her womb
    like a fish rising from depths of water
    and like streams that branch away from a river
    It's he who circles the sun of her eyes
    and imagines he is fixed in place

    I have no power to tame you
    or domesticate you
    or mitigate your first instincts
    This task is impossible
    I've tested my intelligence on you
    also my dumbness
    Nothing worked with you, neither guidance
    nor temptation
    Stay primitive as you are

    I have no power to break your habits
    for thirty years you have been like this
    for three hundred years
    a storm trapping in a bottle
    a body by nature sensing the scent of a man
    assaults it by nature
    triumphs over it by nature

    Never believe what a man says about himself
    that he is the one who makes the poems
    and makes the children
    It is the woman who writes the poems
    and the man who signs his name to them
    It is the woman who bears the children
    and the man who signs at the maternity hospital
    that he is the father

    I have no power to change your nature
    my books are of no use to you
    and my convictions do not convince you
    nor does my fatherly council do you any good
    you are the queen of anarchy, of madness, of belonging
    to no one
    Stay that way
    You are the tree of femininity that grows in the dark
    needs no sun or water
    you the sea princess who has loved all men
    and loved no one
    slept with all men… and slept with no one
    you are the Bedouin woman who went with all the tribes
    and returned a virgin
    Stay that way.

  • sarukunsarukun RIESLING OCEANRegistered User regular
    i like it!

    Thank you very much! :3

  • Clint EastwoodClint Eastwood My baby's in there someplace She crawled right inRegistered User regular
    Hey girl, let's fuck
    Please, try your luck
    Don't be obscene
    Let's keep this clean
    When I'm coming I will yell duck.

  • MysstMysst King Monkey of Hedonism IslandRegistered User regular
    Usagi wrote: »
    Every time I kiss you
    After a long separation
    I feel
    I am putting a hurried love letter
    In a red mailbox.
    My lover asks me:
    "What is the difference between me and the sky?"
    The difference, my love,
    Is that when you laugh,
    I forget about the sky.

    I am not normally a poetry guy but damn

    ikbUJdU.jpg
  • Metzger MeisterMetzger Meister It Gets Worse before it gets any better.Registered User regular
    Bagpipe Music

    It's no go the merrygoround, it's no go the rickshaw,
    All we want is a limousine and a ticket for the peepshow.
    Their knickers are made of crepe-de-chine, their shoes are made of python,
    Their halls are lined with tiger rugs and their walls with head of bison.

    John MacDonald found a corpse, put it under the sofa,
    Waited till it came to life and hit it with a poker,
    Sold its eyes for souvenirs, sold its blood for whiskey,
    Kept its bones for dumbbells to use when he was fifty.

    It's no go the Yogi-man, it's no go Blavatsky,
    All we want is a bank balance and a bit of skirt in a taxi.

    Annie MacDougall went to milk, caught her foot in the heather,
    Woke to hear a dance record playing of Old Vienna.
    It's no go your maidenheads, it's no go your culture,
    All we want is a Dunlop tire and the devil mend the puncture.

    The Laird o' Phelps spent Hogmanay declaring he was sober,
    Counted his feet to prove the fact and found he had one foot over.
    Mrs. Carmichael had her fifth, looked at the job with repulsion,
    Said to the midwife "Take it away; I'm through with overproduction."

    It's no go the gossip column, it's no go the Ceilidh,
    All we want is a mother's help and a sugar-stick for the baby.

    Willie Murray cut his thumb, couldn't count the damage,
    Took the hide of an Ayrshire cow and used it for a bandage.
    His brother caught three hundred cran when the seas were lavish,
    Threw the bleeders back in the sea and went upon the parish.

    It's no go the Herring Board, it's no go the Bible,
    All we want is a packet of fags when our hands are idle.

    It's no go the picture palace, it's no go the stadium,
    It's no go the country cot with a pot of pink geraniums,
    It's no go the Government grants, it's no go the elections,
    Sit on your arse for fifty years and hang your hat on a pension.

    It's no go my honey love, it's no go my poppet;
    Work your hands from day to day, the winds will blow the profit.
    The glass is falling hour by hour, the glass will fall forever,
    But if you break the bloody glass you won't hold up the weather.

  • UsagiUsagi Nah Registered User regular
    Mysst wrote: »
    Usagi wrote: »
    Every time I kiss you
    After a long separation
    I feel
    I am putting a hurried love letter
    In a red mailbox.
    My lover asks me:
    "What is the difference between me and the sky?"
    The difference, my love,
    Is that when you laugh,
    I forget about the sky.

    I am not normally a poetry guy but damn
    In the summer
    I stretch out on the shore
    And think of you
    Had I told the sea
    What I felt for you,
    It would have left its shores,
    Its shells,
    Its fish,
    And followed me.

  • WiseManTobesWiseManTobes Registered User regular
    Rose are red
    Violets are Blue
    I only have 30 minutes for lunch
    Let's fuck in your car

    Steam! Battlenet:Wisemantobes#1508
  • HermanoHermano Registered User regular
    This Be The Verse
    BY PHILIP LARKIN

    They fuck you up, your mum and dad.
    They may not mean to, but they do.
    They fill you with the faults they had
    And add some extra, just for you.

    But they were fucked up in their turn
    By fools in old-style hats and coats,
    Who half the time were soppy-stern
    And half at one another’s throats.

    Man hands on misery to man.
    It deepens like a coastal shelf.
    Get out as early as you can,
    And don’t have any kids yourself.


    PSN- AHermano
  • Metzger MeisterMetzger Meister It Gets Worse before it gets any better.Registered User regular
    Larkin is fucking rad.

  • GSMGSM Registered User regular
    edited February 2014
    How about a sonnet.

    OR MAYBE NOT!

    GSM on
    We'll get back there someday.
  • Metzger MeisterMetzger Meister It Gets Worse before it gets any better.Registered User regular
    i don't even

  • Tommy2HandsTommy2Hands what is this where am i Registered User regular
    Roses Are Red
    Violets Are Blue
    Believe in the Me
    That Believes in You

    8j12qx8ma5j5.jpg
  • Raijin QuickfootRaijin Quickfoot I'm your Huckleberry YOU'RE NO DAISYRegistered User, ClubPA regular
    No fucking Keats? For shame.

  • LarlarLarlar consecutive normal brunches Moderator, ClubPA mod
    Roses are red
    Violets are blue
    No fucking Keats
    Means Raijin hates you

    iwantanswers3.png
  • Raijin QuickfootRaijin Quickfoot I'm your Huckleberry YOU'RE NO DAISYRegistered User, ClubPA regular
    Larlar knows what's up

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