Deep English love poems

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Deep English love poems

Deep English love poems Find some of the Sweet Love Messages, best sweet love messages and send to your lover. Use the messages to express your…

Deep English love poems
                                                                           Deep English love poems

“WHEN WE ARE OLD AND THESE REJOICING VEINS”

BY EDNA ST. VINCENT MILLAY

When we are old and these rejoicing veins
Are frosty channels to a muted stream,
And out of all our burning their remains
No feeblest spark to fire us, even in a dream,
This be our solace: that it was not said
When we were young and warm and in our prime,
Upon our couch we lay as a lie the dead,
Sleeping away the unreturning time.
O sweet, O heavy-lidded, O my love,
When morning strikes her spear upon the land,
And we must rise and arm us and reprove
The insolent daylight with a steady hand,
Be not discountenanced if the knowing know
We rose from rapture but an hour ago.

Deep English love poems 2
                                                                         Deep English love poems 2

“POLARITIES”

BY KENNETH SCISSOR

Sometimes she is like sherry,
like the sun through a vessel of glass,
Like light through an oriel window
in a room of yellow wood;
Sometimes she is the color of lions,
of sand in the fire of noon,
Sometimes as bruised with shadows as the afternoon.
Sometimes she moves like rivers,
Or tranced and fixed like South Pole silences;
sometimes fury, sometimes neither,
Sometimes nothing, drained of meaning,
null as water.
Sometimes, when she makes me
pea-soup or plays me, Schumann,
I love her one way; sometimes
I love her another
More disturbing way when she
opens her mouth in the dark;
Sometimes I like her swimming in a mirror on the wall;
Sometimes I don’t like her at all.

Deep English love poems 3
                                                                          Deep English love poems 3

“TO YOU”

BY KENNETH KOCH

I love you as a sheriff searches for a walnut
That will solve a murder case unsolved for years
Because the murderer left it in the snow beside a window
Through which he saw her head, connecting with
Her shoulders by a neck, and laid a red
Roof in her heart. For this we live a thousand years;
For this we love, and we live because we love, we are not
Inside a bottle, thank goodness! I love you as a
Kid searches for a goat; I am crazier than shirttails
In the wind, when you’re near, a wind that blows from
The big blue sea, so shiny so deep and so unlike us;

 

I think I am bicycling across a
n Africa of green and white fields
Always, to be near you, even in my heart
When I’m awake, which swims,
and also I believe that you
Are trustworthy as the sidewalk which leads me to
The place where I again think of you, a new
Harmony of thoughts!
I love you as the sunlight leads the prow
Of a ship which sails
From Hartford to Miami,
and I love you
Best at dawn, when even before
I am awake the sun
Receives me in the questions which you always pose.

“QUEEN ANNE’S LACE”

BY WILLIAM CARLOS WILLIAMS

Her body is not so white as
anemone petals nor so smooth—nor
so remote a thing. It is a field
of the wild carrot taking
the field by force; the grass
does not raise above it.
Here is no question of whiteness,
white as can be, with a purple mole
at the center of each flower.
Each flower is a hand’s span
of her whiteness. Wherever
his hand has lain there is
a tiny purple blossom under his touch
to which the fibers of her being
stem one by one, each to its end,
until the whole field is a
white desire, empty, a single stem,
a cluster, flower by flower,
a pious wish to whiteness gone over—
or nothing.

“I WANTED TO MAKE MYSELF LIKE THE RAVINE”

BY HANNAH GAMBLE

I wanted to make myself like the ravine
so that all good things
would flow into me.
Because the ravine is lowly,
it receives an abundance.
This sounds wonderful
to everyone
who suffers from lacking,
but consider, too, that a ravine
keeps nothing out:
inflows a peach
with only one bite taken out of it,
but inflows, too,
the body of a stiff mouse
half-cooked by the heat of the stove
it was toughening under.
I have an easygoing way about me.
I’ve been an inviting host —
meaning to, not meaning to.
Oops — he’s approaching with his tongue
already out
and moving.
Analyze the risks
of becoming a ravine.
Compare those with the risks
of becoming a well

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with a well-bolted lid.
Which I’d prefer
depends largely on which kinds
of animals were inside me
when the lid went on
and how likely they’d be
to enjoy the water,
vs. drown, freeze, or starve.
The lesson: close yourself off
at exactly the right time.
On the day that you wake up
under some yellow curtains
with a smile on your face,
lock the door.
Live out your days
untroubled like that.

Deep English love poems

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