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Love Poems
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- oblivion
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- Likes the book better than the movie
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Re: Love Poems
According to the above-mentioned book, she certainly had a few "crushes", if not downright love for a few people, albeit usually the wrong ones.
Gods and spirits are parasitic--Pascal Boyer
Religion is the only force in the world that lets a person have his prejudice or hatred and feel good about it --S C Hitchcock
Believe those who are seeking the truth. Doubt those who find it. --André Gide
Reading is a majority skill but a minority art. --Julian Barnes
Religion is the only force in the world that lets a person have his prejudice or hatred and feel good about it --S C Hitchcock
Believe those who are seeking the truth. Doubt those who find it. --André Gide
Reading is a majority skill but a minority art. --Julian Barnes
- Penelope
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- One more post ought to do it.
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Re: Love Poems
I'm sorry if this has been posted before. It was in our weekend paper and I was quite stricken.
I love Noel Coward's gentle but sincere wit.
I Am No Good at Love
* Noël Coward
* guardian.co.uk, Friday 9 September 2011 22.55 BST
I am no good at love
My heart should be wise and free
I kill the unfortunate golden goose
Whoever it may be
With over-articulate tenderness
And too much intensity.
I am no good at love
I batter it out of shape
Suspicion tears at my sleepless mind
And, gibbering like an ape,
I lie alone in the endless dark
Knowing there's no escape.
I am no good at love
When my easy heart I yield
Wild words come tumbling from my mouth
Which should have stayed concealed;
And my jealousy turns a bed of bliss
Into a battlefield.
I am no good at love
I betray it with little sins
For I feel the misery of the end
In the moment that it begins
And the bitterness of the last good-bye
Is the bitterness that wins.
I love Noel Coward's gentle but sincere wit.
I Am No Good at Love
* Noël Coward
* guardian.co.uk, Friday 9 September 2011 22.55 BST
I am no good at love
My heart should be wise and free
I kill the unfortunate golden goose
Whoever it may be
With over-articulate tenderness
And too much intensity.
I am no good at love
I batter it out of shape
Suspicion tears at my sleepless mind
And, gibbering like an ape,
I lie alone in the endless dark
Knowing there's no escape.
I am no good at love
When my easy heart I yield
Wild words come tumbling from my mouth
Which should have stayed concealed;
And my jealousy turns a bed of bliss
Into a battlefield.
I am no good at love
I betray it with little sins
For I feel the misery of the end
In the moment that it begins
And the bitterness of the last good-bye
Is the bitterness that wins.
Only those become weary of angling who bring nothing to it but the idea of catching fish.
He was born with the gift of laughter and a sense that the world is mad....
Rafael Sabatini
He was born with the gift of laughter and a sense that the world is mad....
Rafael Sabatini
- realiz
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- Amazingly Intelligent
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Re: Love Poems
Love Poem
By Dorothea Lasky Dorothea Lasky
The rain whistled.
A taxi brought me to your apartment building
And there I stood.
I had dreamed a dream
Of us in a bedroom.
The light shining upon us in white sheets.
You were singing me a song of your sailing days
And in the dream
I reached deep in you and pulled out a cardinal
Which in bright red
Flew out the window.
Sometimes when we talk
On the phone, I think to myself
That the deep perfect of your soul
Is what draws me to you.
But still what soul is perfect?
All souls are misshapen and off-colored.
Morning comes within a soul
And makes it obey another law
In which all souls are snowflakes.
Once at a funeral, a man had died
And with the prayers said, his soul flew up in a hurry
Like it had been let out of something awful.
It was strangely colored, that soul.
And it was a funny shape and a funny temperature.
As it blew away, all of us looking felt the cold.
By Dorothea Lasky Dorothea Lasky
The rain whistled.
A taxi brought me to your apartment building
And there I stood.
I had dreamed a dream
Of us in a bedroom.
The light shining upon us in white sheets.
You were singing me a song of your sailing days
And in the dream
I reached deep in you and pulled out a cardinal
Which in bright red
Flew out the window.
Sometimes when we talk
On the phone, I think to myself
That the deep perfect of your soul
Is what draws me to you.
But still what soul is perfect?
All souls are misshapen and off-colored.
Morning comes within a soul
And makes it obey another law
In which all souls are snowflakes.
Once at a funeral, a man had died
And with the prayers said, his soul flew up in a hurry
Like it had been let out of something awful.
It was strangely colored, that soul.
And it was a funny shape and a funny temperature.
As it blew away, all of us looking felt the cold.
- giselle
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- Almost Awesome
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Re: Love Poems
I really like both of these poems (certainly sounds like Noel is bad at love!) and I particularly like the closing of 'Love Poem' characterizing the soul by shape and temperature -- its pretty challenging to get our heads around the concept of 'soul' and I think this is a good attempt. Does beg the question of whether or not it is possible to fall in love with someone's soul, have to ponder that one a bit.
- Penelope
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- One more post ought to do it.
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Re: Love Poems
I never believed any bloke who said it was my soul they wanted.giselle:
Does beg the question of whether or not it is possible to fall in love with someone's soul, have to ponder that one a bit.
![Rolling Eyes :roll:](https://www.booktalk.org/images/smilies/icon_rolleyes.gif)
But it is true that we fall in love with people for very silly reasons. I always thought I would marry a handsome dark Italian who would sing romantic arias to me. Instead I married a red-headed Lancashire Lad who made me laugh, and still does.
There are just people we feel comfortable with.......complete...sort of feeling. We don't want to lose them because then we would feel incomplete......Well, that's how I see it......nothing rational about it at all.
![Laughing :lol:](https://www.booktalk.org/images/smilies/icon_lol.gif)
All love that has not friendship for its base, is like a mansion built upon the sand.
Ella Wheeler Wilcox
Only those become weary of angling who bring nothing to it but the idea of catching fish.
He was born with the gift of laughter and a sense that the world is mad....
Rafael Sabatini
He was born with the gift of laughter and a sense that the world is mad....
Rafael Sabatini
- giselle
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- Almost Awesome
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Re: Love Poems
Very wise, Penny!Penelope wrote: I never believed any bloke who said it was my soul they wanted.![]()
![Smile :)](https://www.booktalk.org/images/smilies/icon_smile.gif)
- Penelope
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- One more post ought to do it.
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- Joined: Tue Oct 02, 2007 11:49 am
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Re: Love Poems
A Woman's Poem
He didn't like the casserole
And he didn't like my cake,
He said my biscuits were too hard
Not like his mother used to make.
I didn't perk the coffee right
He didn't like the stew,
I didn't mend his socks
The way his mother used to do.
I pondered for an answer
I was looking for a clue.
Then I turned around and
smacked him one
Like his mother used to do.
******************************************
I can confirm that this is a Love Poem.......![Very Happy :D](https://www.booktalk.org/images/smilies/icon_biggrin.gif)
He didn't like the casserole
And he didn't like my cake,
He said my biscuits were too hard
Not like his mother used to make.
I didn't perk the coffee right
He didn't like the stew,
I didn't mend his socks
The way his mother used to do.
I pondered for an answer
I was looking for a clue.
Then I turned around and
smacked him one
Like his mother used to do.
******************************************
I can confirm that this is a Love Poem.......
![Very Happy :D](https://www.booktalk.org/images/smilies/icon_biggrin.gif)
Only those become weary of angling who bring nothing to it but the idea of catching fish.
He was born with the gift of laughter and a sense that the world is mad....
Rafael Sabatini
He was born with the gift of laughter and a sense that the world is mad....
Rafael Sabatini
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Getting Comfortable
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Re: Love Poems
john keats' Endymion is a beautiful love poem. i loved it. it appeals to our sense of timeless love.
- tjamesmoss.author
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Devoted Member
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