Your Favorite Love/Romantic Poem?
One of my favorite love poems is is William Shakespeare's Sonnet #18. What's yours? Could be in any language. Another is a Filipino poem / tula by my former Philosophy teacher Dr. Eduardo Calasanz, but I lost his book. The title now escapes me, but will try to ask him for a copy via e-mail, and ask his permission to post it here. 
Sonnet 18
Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?
Thou art more lovely and more temperate:
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,
And summer's lease hath all too short a date;
Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,
And often is his gold complexion dimm'd;
And every fair from fair sometime declines,
By chance or nature's changing course untrimm'd;
But thy eternal summer shall not fade,
Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow'st;
Nor shall Death brag thou wander'st in his shade,
When in eternal lines to time thou grow'st:
So long as men can breathe or eyes can see,
So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.
–William Shakespeare
:)
Submitted by ruth_mostrales on August 9, 2008 - 10:15pm.
i love e.e. cummings' Somewhere i've never travelled gladly beyond:
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 skilfully, 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
Another favorite is Pablo Neruda's Sonnet XVII... and Tonight I Can Write the Saddest Lines
Tonight I can write the saddest lines.
Write, for example,'The night is shattered
and the blue stars shiver in the distance.'
The night wind revolves in the sky and sings.
Tonight I can write the saddest lines.
I loved her, and sometimes she loved me too.
Through nights like this one I held her in my arms
I kissed her again and again under the endless sky.
She loved me sometimes, and I loved her too.
How could one not have loved her great still eyes.
Tonight I can write the saddest lines.
To think that I do not have her. To feel that I have lost her.
To hear the immense night, still more immense without her.
And the verse falls to the soul like dew to the pasture.
What does it matter that my love could not keep her.
The night is shattered and she is not with me.
This is all. In the distance someone is singing. In the distance.
My soul is not satisfied that it has lost her.
My sight searches for her as though to go to her.
My heart looks for her, and she is not with me.
The same night whitening the same trees.
We, of that time, are no longer the same.
I no longer love her, that's certain, but how I loved her.
My voice tried to find the wind to touch her hearing.
Another's. She will be another's. Like my kisses before.
Her voide. Her bright body. Her inifinite eyes.
I no longer love her, that's certain, but maybe I love her.
Love is so short, forgetting is so long.
Because through nights like this one I held her in my arms
my sould is not satisfied that it has lost her.
Though this be the last pain that she makes me suffer
and these the last verses that I write for her.
I love poems generally, but I also love Fire and Ice and Stopping By Woods by Robert Frost.
Puedo escribir los versos mas tristes esta noche
Submitted by franzsorilla on October 14, 2008 - 3:25pm.
i have its original version... read it in my comment down here....
<<FrAnZsOrIlLa>>
...love is not love
Submitted by pinkytabor on August 9, 2008 - 10:15pm.
Sailing, scaling...
"Let me not to the marriage of true minds..."
ahhh! super duper tear jerker for a love junkie like me.
until now i still melt reading that...116?
"O no! it is an ever fixed mark that looks on tempest and is never shaken..."
Kahlil Gibran on Love
Submitted by pauline hernandez on August 9, 2008 - 11:07pm.
Kahlil Gibran on Love
When love beckons to you, follow him,
Though his ways are hard and steep.
And when his wings enfold you yield to him,
Though the sword hidden among his pinions may wound you.
And when he speaks to you believe in him,
Though his voice may shatter your dreams
as the north wind lays waste the garden.
For even as love crowns you so shall he crucify you. Even as he is for your growth so is he for your pruning.
Even as he ascends to your height and caresses your tenderest branches that quiver in the sun,
So shall he descend to your roots and shake them in their clinging to the earth.
Like sheaves of corn he gathers you unto himself.
He threshes you to make you naked.
He sifts you to free you from your husks.
He grinds you to whiteness.
He kneads you until you are pliant;
And then he assigns you to his sacred fire, that you may become sacred bread for God's sacred feast.
All these things shall love do unto you that you may know the secrets of your heart, and in that knowledge become a fragment of Life's heart.
But if in your fear you would seek only love's peace and love's pleasure,
Then it is better for you that you cover your nakedness and pass out of love's threshing-floor,
Into the seasonless world where you shall laugh, but not all of your laughter, and weep, but not all of your tears.
Love gives naught but itself and takes naught but from itself.
Love possesses not nor would it be possessed;
For love is sufficient unto love.
When you love you should not say, "God is in my heart," but rather, "I am in the heart of God."
And think not you can direct the course of love, for love, if it finds you worthy, directs your course.
Love has no other desire but to fulfill itself.
But if you love and must needs have desires, let these be your desires:
To melt and be like a running brook that sings its melody to the night.
To know the pain of too much tenderness.
To be wounded by your own understanding of love;
And to bleed willingly and joyfully.
To wake at dawn with a winged heart and give thanks for another day of loving;
To rest at the noon hour and meditate love's ecstasy;
To return home at eventide with gratitude;
And then to sleep with a prayer for the beloved in your heart and a song of praise upon your lips.
*^_^*
Submitted by jenny on August 11, 2008 - 10:08pm.
Love Still Retains me in His Sovereignty... from Dante Alighieri's La Vita Nuova
Sì lungiamente m’ha tenuto Amore
E costumato a la sua segnoria,
Che sì com’elli m’era forte in pria,
Così mi sta soave ora nel core.
Però quando mi tolle sì ‘l valore
Che li spiriti par che fuggan via,
Allor sente la frale anima mia
Tanta dolcezza che ‘l viso ne smore,
Poi prende Amore in me tanta vertute
Che fa li miei spiriti gir parlando, 1
Ed escon for chiamando
La donna mia, per darmi più salute.
Questo m’avvene ovunque ella mi vede,
E sì è cosa umil, che nol si crede
(English Translation)
Love still retains me in his sovereignty,
to which I’ve been accustomed for so long
that, just as he before was harsh and strong,
he reigns now in my heart most tranquilly.
But when it robs me of my valiancy,
and all my spirits seem a fleeting throng,
in my frail soul I taste a bliss so strong
it makes my features pallid instantly;
and Love regains such power in me then,
he makes my every spirit fare about,
talking and calling out
my lady, so that I more grace obtain.
Where’er she sees me, this occurs to me,
yet none believes how humble she can be.
pablo neruda
Submitted by blogger wannabe on September 1, 2008 - 9:31pm.
Tonight I can write the saddest lines
Tonight I can write the saddest lines.
Write, for example,'The night is shattered
and the blue stars shiver in the distance.'
The night wind revolves in the sky and sings.
Tonight I can write the saddest lines.
I loved her, and sometimes she loved me too.
Through nights like this one I held her in my arms
I kissed her again and again under the endless sky.
She loved me sometimes, and I loved her too.
How could one not have loved her great still eyes.
Tonight I can write the saddest lines.
To think that I do not have her. To feel that I have lost her.
To hear the immense night, still more immense without her.
And the verse falls to the soul like dew to the pasture.
What does it matter that my love could not keep her.
The night is shattered and she is not with me.
This is all. In the distance someone is singing. In the distance.
My soul is not satisfied that it has lost her.
My sight searches for her as though to go to her.
My heart looks for her, and she is not with me.
The same night whitening the same trees.
We, of that time, are no longer the same.
I no longer love her, that's certain, but how I loved her.
My voice tried to find the wind to touch her hearing.
Another's. She will be another's. Like my kisses before.
Her voide. Her bright body. Her inifinite eyes.
I no longer love her, that's certain, but maybe I love her.
Love is so short, forgetting is so long.
Because through nights like this one I held her in my arms
my sould is not satisfied that it has lost her.
Though this be the last pain that she makes me suffer
and these the last verses that I write for her.
Pablo Neruda
i love Shakespeare's sonnets but this NEruda poem struck me.
Submitted by talulot on October 12, 2008 - 2:23am.
I love you as the plant that never blooms I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where. than this: where I does not exist, nor you, Pablo Neruda i love you without knowing how or when or from where.... love this line who said one should be genius to undersTAND love? i don't know how i love you all i know is that i do......(a hopelessly romantic lady...)
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.
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 straightforwardly, without complexities or pride;
so I love you because I know no other way
so close that your hand on my chest is my hand,
so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep.
"hinahangin ang talulot na malaya, mula sa bulaklak na sinta hanggang sa matabang lupa.. siya ay ligaya, musa ng pagkadakila.."
Tagalog po ang sa akin... Pag-ibig :by Jose Corazon De Jesus
Submitted by dyeppri on October 12, 2008 - 4:32am.
Pag-ibig
Jose Corazon De Jesus
Isang aklat na maputi, ang isinusulat: luha!
kaya wala kang mabasa kahit isa mang talata;
kinabis at inisip mulang ating pagkabata;
Tumanda ka’t nagkauban, hindi mo pa naunawa.
Ang pag-ibig, isipin mo, pag inisip, nasa puso!
pag pinuso, nasa isip, kaya’t hindi mo makuro.
Lapitan mo nang matagal ang pagsuyo’y naglalaho –
layuan mo at kay lungko, nananaghaoy ang pagsuyo!
Ang pag-ibig ng dakila’y aayaw nang matagalan,
parang lintik kung gumuhit sa pisnig ng kadiliman.
Ang halik na ubos-tindi, minsan lamang ng halikan,
At ang ilog kung bumaha, tandaan mo’t minsan lamang!
Ang pag-ibig kapag duwag ay payapa’t walang agos,
walang talon, walang baha, walang luha, walang lunos.
Ang pag-ibig na matapang ay puso ang inaanod,
pati dangal, yama’t dunong nalulunod sa pag-irog!
Ang pag-ibig na buko pa’y nakikinig pa sa aral,
tandang di pa umiibig, nakikita pa ang ilaw,
ngunit kapag nag-alab na pati mundo’y nalimutan –
iyan, ganyan ang pag-ibig, damdamin mo’t puso lamang!
Kapag ika’y umurong sa sakuna’t sa panganib
ay talagang maliwanag at buo ang iyong isip;
takot pa ang pag-ibig mo, hindi ka pa umiibig;
pag umibig, pati hukay ay aariin mong langit!
Ang pag-ibig ay may mata, ang pag-ibig ay di bulag;
ang marunong na umibig, bawat sugat ay bulaklak
ang pag-ibig ay masakim at aayaw ng kakabyak;
o wala ng kahit ano, o ibigay mong lahat!
“Ako’y hindi nakasulat at ang Nanay nakabantay!”
Aasahan mo katoto ko, hindi ka pa minamahal!
Ngunit kapag sumulat na sa ibabaw man ng hukay;
minamahal ka na niya ng higit sa kanyang buhay!
Kayong mga kabataang pag-ibig ang ninanais,
kayong mga paruparong sa ilawan lumiligid,
kapag kayo’y umibig na, hahanapin ang panganib,
at ang mga pakpak ninyo’y masusunog sa pag-ibig.
............................................................................................................
"I wouldn't mind if you were nice to me once in a blue moon."
this is my favorite because of its sadness
Submitted by franzsorilla on October 14, 2008 - 3:22pm.
"Puedo escribir los versos más tristes esta noche"
Puedo escribir los versos mas tristes esta noche.
Escribir, por ejemplo: "La noche está estrellada,
y tiritan, azules, los astros, a lo lejos."
El viento de la noche gira en el cielo y canta.
Puedo escribir los versos más tristes esta noche.
Yo la quise, y a veces ella también me quiso.
En las noches como esta la tuve entre mis brazos.
La besé tantas veces bajo el cielo infinito.
Ella me quiso, a veces yo también la quería.
Cómo no haber amado sus grandes ojos fijos.
Puedo escribir los versos más tristes esta noche.
Pensar que no la tengo. Sentir que la he perdido.
Oir la noche inmensa, más inmensa sin ella.
Y el verso cae al alma como al pasto el rocío.
Qué importa que mi amor no pudiera guardarla.
La noche esta estrellada y ella no está conmigo.
Eso es todo. A lo lejos alguien canta. A lo lejos.
Mi alma no se contenta con haberla perdido.
Como para acercarla mi mirada la busca.
Mi corazón la busca, y ella no está conmigo.
La misma noche que hace blanquear los mismos árboles.
Nosotros, los de entonces, ya no somos los mismos.
Ya no la quiero, es cierto, pero cuánto la quise.
Mi voz buscaba el viento para tocar su oído.
De otro. Será de otro. Como antes de mis besos.
Su voz, su cuerpo claro. Sus ojos infinitos.
Ya no la quiero, es cierto, pero tal vez la quiero.
Es tan corto el amor, y es tan largo el olvido.
Porque en noches como esta la tuve entre mis brazos,
mi alma no se contenta con haberla perdido.
Aunque este sea el ultimo dolor que ella me causa,
y estos sean los ultimos versos que yo le escribo.
- Pablo Neruda
<<FrAnZsOrIlLa>>
"Tonight I can write the saddest lines"
Tonight I can write the saddest lines.
Write for example, "The night is shattered
and the blue stars shiver in the distance."
The night wind revolves in the sky and sings.
Tonight I can write the saddest lines.
I loved her, and sometimes she loved me too.
Through nights like this one I held her in my arms.
I kissed her again and again under the endless sky.
She loved me, sometimes I loved her too.
How could one not have loved her great still eyes.
Tonight I can write the saddest lines.
To think that I do not have her. To feel that I have lost her.
To hear the immense night, still more immense without her.
And the verse falls to the soul like dew to the pasture.
What does it matter that my love could not keep her.
The night is shattered and she is not with me.
This is all. In the distance someone is singing. In the distance.
My soul is not satisfied that it has lost her.
My sight searches for her as though to go to her.
My heart looks for her, and she is not with me.
The same night whitening the same trees.
We, of that time, are no longer the same.
I no longer love her, that's certain, but how I loved her.
My voice tried to find the wind to touch her hearing.
Another's. She will be another's. Like my kisses before.
Her voice. Her bright body. Her infinite eyes.
I no longer love her, that's certain, but maybe I love her.
Love is so short, forgetting is so long.
Because through nights like this one I held her in my arms
my soul is not satisfied that it has lost her.
Though this be the last pain that she makes me suffer
and these the last verses that I write for her.
- Pablo Neruda
I like Love Poems with Wit(icism). :D
Two I can think of, right off the bat:
"My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun"
By William Shakespeare
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 damask'd, 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.
In this poem, Shakespeare is talking about love towards an imperfect woman which I think is dramatically realistic. The images just burns in my mind. xD
The Wit and the Beau
By Anne Kingsmill Finch
Strephon, whose Person ev'ry Grace
Was careful to adorn;
Thought, by the Beauties of his Face,
In Silvia's Love to find a place,
And wonder'd at her Scorn.
With Bows, and Smiles he did his Part;
But Oh! 'twas all in vain:
A Youth less Fine, a Youth of Art
Had talk'd himself into her Heart,
And wou'd not out again.
Strephon with change of Habits press'd,
And urg'd her to admire;
His Love alone the Other dress'd,
As Verse, or Prose became it best,
And mov'd her soft Desire.
This found, his courtship Strephon ends,
Or makes it to his Glass;
There, in himself now seeks amends,
Convinc'd, that where a Wit pretends,
A Beau is but an Ass.
((Okay... I have the tendency to go around the bush. So allow me to get to the point of this poem... Meaning I'll explain again))
Finch's poem is talking about a Jerk who tries to impress a Girl and wins in the end. As the reader, it makes me feel that I am the one observing their "first date" over dinner. And the way in which the Jerk is defined makes him an ass. So, that makes the guy Strephon, a jerk. :D
((If I'm confusing you, I completely understand. Just send me a note and I'll explain. T__T))