Love stories. True love poems. I love you poems. The world over, people fall in love. And the world over, people feel the need to put the feeling into words.
Sometimes the poems are romantic poems. Sometimes they're passionate and urgent. Sometimes they're gently erotic and sexy poems.
What does it do for us, to write and read sexy poetry, romantic poems, desperate and aching and secret and despairing poems?
When we're in love, the feeling grips us. Sometimes all we can do is think of whoever we love.
And when we're not in love, we may want to get back a taste of that feeling.
Maybe most of all, to give a true love poem is to say, I love you.
To receive a this poem is to receive love.
True love poems both express the feeling and arouse our emotions. For me, this poem by John Donne may his express his feelings. It doesn't arouse mine!
Why, by the way, don't we just settle on whatever we figure out are the best poems, the most romantic poems?
There are as many ways of feeling love as there are people. And even for any one person, it keeps changing.
There can be distant attraction, utter confusion, helpless falling in love, choosing to fall in love, easy content love, affectionate loving, urgent intense sexual passion, tenderness. And so we have plain old I love you poems, but also sexy erotic love poetry, passionate poems and on and on and on. Poems for him. Poems for her.
Poetry is like everything else about us - we share so much with other people, and yet we're unique
That kind of madness Which never knocks at the door
But goes directly into house
And slams you down
To the ground.
I clung desperately to something.
It was an eye book.
I took the eye and I crushed it
Like I crushed a walnut
To eat its content.
I read it very quickly.
It was like a breathing space.
Another day I realized
The meaning of our love.
It was involuntary,
It was unconscious,
It was hypocritical,
And it was demagogy.
I suppose I love you twice
And I realize I hate you once.
Even I'm not sure
That I am really capable to hate you.
But you can make me oscillate,
Day by day,
Between hatred and
The feeling of love
Until it will be almost impossible
To keep this feeling alive.
It is because
This breakable mechanism called love,
Which normally starts from the souls,
Didn't start within us from place
But from another secret space
Of our being.
You see, our feeling consists,
And this is why
It could not fulfill its destiny,
Then I opened my eyes
And I did not save this love once again
And I realize I hate you once.
Even I'm not sure
That I am really capable to hate you.
But you can make me oscillate,
Day by day,
Between hatred and
The feeling of love
Until it will be almost impossible
To keep this feeling alive.
It is because
This breakable mechanism called love,
Which normally starts from the souls,
Didn't start within us from place
But from another secret space
Of our being.
You see, our feeling consists,
And this is why
It could not fulfill its destiny,
Then I opened my eyes
And I did not save this love once again
