New Moon

Moonrise is not forever,
so in this brief hour
while we are tidal,
ebbing and flowing,
show me your light.

—Lorna Cahall

This love poem appeared in Every Day Poems. Subscribe now, for a year of happy mornings.

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lace love poem card

photo by Kelly Sauer

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Love and Sleep

Lying asleep between the strokes of night
I saw my love lean over my sad bed,
Pale as the duskiest lily’s leaf or head,
Smooth-skinned and dark, with bare throat made to bite,

Too wan for blushing and too warm for white,
But perfect-coloured without white or red.
And her lips opened amorously, and said –
I wist not what, saving one word – Delight.

And all her face was honey to my mouth,
And all her body pasture to mine eyes;
The long lithe arms and hotter hands than fire,
The quivering flanks, hair smelling of the south,
The bright light feet, the splendid supple thighs
And glittering eyelids of my soul’s desire.

—Algernon Charles Swinburne

For more Algernon Charles Swinburne love poems, see Poems and Ballads

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Einstein’s Happiest Moment

Einstein’s happiest moment
occurred when he realized
a falling man falling
beside a falling apple
could also be described
as an apple and a man at rest
while the world falls around them.

And my happiest moment
occurred when I realized
you were falling for me,
right down to the core, and the rest,
relatively speaking, has flown past
faster than the speed of light.

— Richard Berlin

For more Richard Berlin poems, see Secret Wounds

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Mortar and pestle love poem quote

photo by Claire Burge

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Replenish

Remind me, would you,
to buy more of the Peach Momotaro,
with its images of waterfalls, lichen-toned
terraces, waves of mountains imprinted
with dots, little white flowers, and mist.
When I drink it, and the steam enters me,
I think of you and the water feels as if
it’s pouring over the mountains.

—L.L. Barkat

This love poem appears in The Novelist. For more on The Novelist, visit Tweetspeak Poetry.

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photo by L.L. Barkat

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A Birthday

My heart is like a singing bird
Whose nest is in a water’d shoot;
My heart is like an apple-tree
Whose boughs are bent with thick-set fruit;
My heart is like a rainbow shell
That paddles in a halcyon sea;
My heart is gladder than all these,
Because my love is come to me.

Raise me a daïs of silk and down;
Hang it with vair and purple dyes;
Carve it in doves and pomegranates,
And peacocks with a hundred eyes;
Work it in gold and silver grapes,
In leaves and silver fleurs-de-lys;
Because the birthday of my life
Is come, my love is come to me.

—Christina Rossetti

For more love poems, see The Complete Poems, Christina Rossetti

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16

I lose myself in the space at the base
Of your neck, the wood hollow, a place
Where rainwater collects and birds sing,
The smoothest pool for my longing.

I want to lay my tongue in the groove
Of flesh, below the bone cupola.
I want to stay there and not to move,
To taste your skin of magnolia.

I lose myself in the space at the base
Of your neck, all sense of self erased.

— Dave Malone

For more love poems, see 23 Sonnets. This poem was published in Every Day Poems.

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Love poem card

photo by Kelly Sauer

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Wild Nights, Wild Nights! (269)

Wild Nights – Wild Nights!
Were I with thee
Wild Nights should be
Our luxury!

Futile – the winds –
To a heart in port –
Done with the compass –
Done with the chart!

Rowing in Eden –
Ah, the sea!
Might I moor – Tonight –
In thee!

—Emily Dickinson

For more love poems, see The Collected Poems of Emily Dickinson.

Related Article at Tweetspeak Poetry:

“Who wouldn’t love a poet that loved to stay home, hated laundry, gave away baked goods, knew her way around a piece of sarcasm, and used chocolate wrappers for her Moleskine?” continue reading A Pencil for Emily Dickinson

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Wild nights Emily Dickinson photo by LL Barkat

photo by L.L. Barkat

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Sonnets from the Portuguese 43: How do I love thee? Let me count the ways

How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.
I love thee to the depth and breadth and height
My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight
For the ends of being and ideal grace.
I love thee to the level of every day’s
Most quiet need, by sun and candle-light.
I love thee freely, as men strive for right;
I love thee purely, as they turn from praise.
I love thee with the passion put to use
In my old griefs, and with my childhood’s faith.
I love thee with a love I seemed to lose
With my lost saints. I love thee with the breath,
Smiles, tears, of all my life; and, if God choose,

I shall but love thee better after death.

—Elizabeth Barrett Browning

For more love poems, see Sonnets from the Portuguese and Other Poems

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How do I love thee Emily Dickinson art by Emily Wierenga

art by Emily Wierenga

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Shakespeare: Sonnet 116

Let me not to the marriage of true minds
Admit impediments. Love is not love
Which alters when it alteration finds,
Or bends with the remover to remove:
O no! it is an ever-fixed mark
That looks on tempests and is never shaken;
It is the star to every wandering bark,
Whose worth’s unknown, although his height be taken.
Love’s not Time’s fool, though rosy lips and cheeks
Within his bending sickle’s compass come:
Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,
But bears it out even to the edge of doom.
If this be error and upon me proved,
I never writ, nor no man ever loved.

—William Shakespeare, 1609

The lover in The Novelist recites this sonnet to overcome the main character, Laura. It works. Read more about The Novelist at Tweetspeak Poetry.

For more Shakespeare love poems, see Love Poems & Sonnets of William Shakespeare

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Love—like there has never been Shakespeare in Love photo by Tina Howard

photo by Fall Meadow Photography

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