Love Poems

[realiz]

The Tagore poems are lovely! Penny post as many more as you like.

I second that, Penelope!

[realiz]

Here is a darker look at love, love as a selfish, consuming beast. It is raw and disturbing and such a powerfully intense love. We can see the complete and irreversible change the lovers have caused in each other.

Lovesong


He loved her and she loved him.
His kisses sucked out her whole past and future or tried to
He had no other appetite
She bit him she gnawed him she sucked
She wanted him complete inside her
Safe and sure forever and ever
Their little cries fluttered into the curtains

Her eyes wanted nothing to get away
Her looks nailed down his hands his wrists his elbows
He gripped her hard so that life
Should not drag her from that moment
He wanted all future to cease
He wanted to topple with his arms round her
Off that moment's brink and into nothing
Or everlasting or whatever there was

Her embrace was an immense press
To print him into her bones
His smiles were the garrets of a fairy palace
Where the real world would never come
Her smiles were spider bites
So he would lie still till she felt hungry
His words were occupying armies
Her laughs were an assassin's attempts
His looks were bullets daggers of revenge
His glances were ghosts in the corner with horrible secrets
His whispers were whips and jackboots
Her kisses were lawyers steadily writing
His caresses were the last hooks of a castaway
Her love-tricks were the grinding of locks
And their deep cries crawled over the floors
Like an animal dragging a great trap
His promises were the surgeon's gag
Her promises took the top off his skull
She would get a brooch made of it
His vows pulled out all her sinews
He showed her how to make a love-knot
Her vows put his eyes in formalin
At the back of her secret drawer
Their screams stuck in the wall

Their heads fell apart into sleep like the two halves
Of a lopped melon, but love is hard to stop

In their entwined sleep they exchanged arms and legs
In their dreams their brains took each other hostage

In the morning they wore each other's face

Ted Hughes

[Penelope]

I wonder when he wrote this.

Being married to the intense Sylvia, would have made him feel like this.

Or did he seek out such passion? What a price to pay don't you think?

[realiz]

I read that Lovesong was published in a collection of poems in the 70's, but not sure when it was written. But also I found this one:

Mad Girl's Love Song
Sylvia Plath


"I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead;
I lift my lids and all is born again.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

The stars go waltzing out in blue and red,
And arbitrary blackness gallops in:
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.

I dreamed that you bewitched me into bed
And sung me moon-struck, kissed me quite insane.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

God topples from the sky, hell's fires fade:
Exit seraphim and Satan's men:
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.

I fancied you'd return the way you said,
But I grow old and I forget your name.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

I should have loved a thunderbird instead;
At least when spring comes they roar back again.
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)"

[Penelope]

I didn't know this poem.

Do we make partners up inside our head, and then try to find the person to fit into the mould?

There is a lovely Wendy Cope poem in which she apologises to her errant lover, for placing upon him a mantle that did not fit....

For imagining him to be what he was not. Do you know it?

I must try to find it.....unless some one on here has it to hand?

[realiz]

Do we make partners up inside our head, and then try to find the person to fit into the mould?

I think when we do this (and we probably all do to some extent) we end up disappointed.

I looked for the Wendy Cope poem on-line but could not find it. I hope you can find it, or someone can, and post it.

[Saffron]

I looked for the Wendy Cope poem on-line but could not find it. I hope you can find it, or someone can, and post it.

When I read the poem by T. Hughes, I thought no wonder Silvia killed herself. Then I read hers and again, I thought no wonder. I couldn't find a WendyCope poem that matched your descriptions, Penny, but I did find this one:

"Flowers"

Some men never think of it.
You did. You'd come along
And say you'd nearly brought me flowers
But something had gone wrong.

The shop was closed. Or you had doubts-
The sort that minds like ours
Dream up incessantly. You thought
I might not want your flowers.

It made me smile and hug you then.
Now I can only smile.
But, look, the flowers you nearly brought
Have lasted all this while.

[Penelope]

I don't think Wendy Cope allows her complete works on line. But there is a book at the shop (where I work) with this poem. I'll find it and post it.

However, in the meantime, another 'aspect of love' from Stevie Smith, which I found whilst searching for the Wendy Cope poem.

Hope you APPRECIATE it!

Infelice


Walking swiftly with a dreadful duchess,
He smiled too briefly, his face was pale as sand,
He jumped into a taxi when he saw me coming,
Leaving my alone with a private meaning,
He loves me so much, my heart is singing.
Later at the Club when I rang him in the evening
They said: Sir Rat is dining, is dining, is dining,
No madam, he left no messafe, ah how his silence speaks,
He loves me too much for words, my heart is singing.
The Pullman seats are here, the tickets for Paris, I am waiting,
Presently the telephone rings, it is his valet speaking,
Sir Rat is called away, to Scotland, his constituents,
(Ah the dreadful duchess, but he loves me best)
Best pleasure to the last, my heart is singing,
One night he came, it was four in the morning,
Walking slowly upstairs, he stands beside my bed,
Dear darling, lie beside me, it is too cold to stand speaking,
He lies down beside me, his face is like the sand,
He is in a sleep of love, my heart is singing.
Sleeping softly softly, in the morning I must wake him,
And waking he murmurs, I only came to sleep.
The words are so sweetly cruel, how deeply he loves me,
I say them to myself alone, my heart is singing.
Now the sunshine strenghtens, it is ten in the morning,
He is so timid in love, he only needs to know,
He is my little child, how can he come if I do not call him,
I will write and tell him everything, I take the pen and write:
I love you so much, my heart is singing.

Stevie Smith

[realiz]

Saffron's Flowers

But, look, the flowers you nearly brought
Have lasted all this while.

This is a nice way to look at love. Not so much Penelope's contribution, a sad, disullusional one-sided love, a made-up fantasy love.
Here is the other side of that coin:

A Jealous Love
By: William Bonilla

She greeted me
Not with a kiss
Nor a smile
But with a stare
That lasted for a while
Before blurting out
Accusations untruth
About a number
She found
In a pocket, Of my suit
That's Joe's number
I Volunteered
He's our new, baseball manager
At work
A likely story, she replied
Probably a bitch
You have stashed aside
Ring, ring, ring, ring
Hello! Joe here
"click"
Joe stared at the receiver
Puzzled?
Statisfied, I asked
As I attempted
To embrace her
The woman, I truly love
Deep inside, she loves me too
Only too much.

[Penelope]

realiz:

Yes, Jealousy is painful.

I wonder if,
when we aren't jealous anymore,
we've stopped loving with such intensity,
better for us, but still less,
less, the need to possess