Love is one of the most beautiful feelings in the world.
Sometimes, words are too few to describe what love feels like. However, there are some unique ways to express your love. You can use the language of love, that is to say, poetry.
Poetry is a product of our imaginative awareness, creativity, emotions, and experiences. It is not only the language of love but also the language of our hearts. So here we bring you some love poetry for your beloved.
Sweet Relationship Poems
- I am far from solid core,
far from the plane ride to paradise,
far from the sodium dream,
but I am here
and here
I am looking around. —From “Far and Here” by Allison Grayhurst
- Without you I am incomplete, never have I missed someone so, my arms long to hold you tight, and I’ll never let you go. Your face, your lips, your soul, your heart, please promise me we’ll never again be apart. For without you, I am but a shell, you are my heaven and without you is hell.— Anonymous
- Your femininity attracts me;
Your steady strength supports me;
Your tenderness sustains me;
You’re the perfect love for me.— Anonymous
- Your lips are so soft and red,
the thought of kissing you is stuck in my head.
Your beauty is so bright and warm,
shinning through the darkest storm.
Your eyes sparkle like stars in the night sky.
When I stare into them I feel like I am soaring high.
My love for you is pure and true.
I never stop thinking of you.
The sound of your voice saying, “I love you,” makes my heart pound,
because I know my one and only I’ve truly found.
I promise to love you for every moment of forever,
and when everything else crumbles, I will never.
I am your armour to protect you from harm,
like you are to me, a lucky charm.
For you are my heart, my soul.
Baby, you are my whole world.— Jamie Emm
- My love is as a fever, longing still
For that which longer nurseth the disease,
Feeding on that which doth preserve the ill,
Th’ uncertain sickly appetite to please.
My reason, the physician to my love,
Angry that his prescriptions are not kept,
Hath left me, and I desperate now approve
Desire is death, which physic did except.
Past cure I am, now reason is past care,
And frantic-mad with evermore unrest;
My thoughts and my discourse as madmen’s are,
At random from the truth vainly expressed:
For I have sworn thee fair and thought thee bright,
Who art as black as hell, as dark as night.— William Shakespeare
- I promise to love you through the good times and bad
I’ll love you when I’m angry, hurt and mad
Love is a choice I’ve made to devote my life
To make you, my world, my wife
Nothing will ever change that choice that I’ve made
Even when we feel our Love start to fade
It’s inside my soul, and nothing can shake
My Love for you, that’s a promise I won’t break— Sean Short
- There is a place of peace
There is a place of joy
A place away from loneliness
A place away from pain
That place is next to you
A secret garden
Where black and white becomes a colourful place
Of loving, kisses, touching, caressing,
Therewith you and only you
Cares of the world melting away
Anger and fear are not allowed
Prejudice cannot enter
A place where two hearts beat as one
A place where two souls are interwoven,
Touching the inner-place of one another
A place that I long to come back to again and again
A place of sweet abandon
A place next to you — Rocky Stonehedge
- What sound was that?
I turn away, into the shaking room.
What was that sound that came in on the dark?
What is this maze of light it leaves us in?
What is this stance we take,
To turn away and then turn back?
What did we hear?
It was the breath we took when we first met.
Listen. It is here.— Harold Pinter
- You gave light to my soul
You helped me to be whole
I have felt love for you before
And it will be more and more,
You are mine, my dear
You are the angel from above
Who taught me how to love.
Please, forever keep me near. — Anonymous
Sweet Poems of Love From The Heart
- When you are old and grey and full of sleep,
And nodding by the fire, take down this book,
And slowly read, and dream of the soft look
Your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep;
How many loved your moments of glad grace,
And loved your beauty with love false or true,
But one man loved the pilgrim soul in you,
And loved the sorrows of your changing face;
And bending down beside the glowing bars,
Murmur, a little sadly, how Love fled
And paced upon the mountains overhead
And hid his face amid a crowd of stars.— William Butler Yeats
- Though the sun sets and finalizes another day,
It leaves us with an array of colour and hope,
Hope that a new day will come,
Hope that life with you will continue to be as beautiful
As it is now.
It fills my heart with gladness knowing that
Though the sun is being replaced with night,
When I lay my head to rest,
You will be by my side,
Comforting me tonight. — Aaron Stone
- I don’t think you will
Ever fully understand
How you touched my life
And made me who I am.
You are the keeper of my dreams,
The man who holds my heart,
The one I want to spend my life with,
The one with whom I will always stand.
Stand beside through thick and thin
Through all that life throws our way
Knowing that this special love we share
Will guide us each and every day.
I don’t think you could ever feel
All the love I have to give,
And I’m sure you never realize
You’ve been my will to live. — Stephanie Schiavone
- I can only hope for this loving grace,
To continue and never end.
You are more than I have ever deserved,
I cannot even comprehend.
I love you more than I probably share,
May you understand and see this truth.
I always have and always will,
Now in my prime, started in my youth. — Anonymous
- Drink to me only with thine eyes
And I will pledge with mine.
Or leave a kiss but in the cup
And I’ll not look for wine.
The thirst that from the soul doth rise
Doth ask a drink divine;
But might I of Jove’s nectar sup,
I would not change for thine.
I sent thee late a rosy wreath,
Not so much honouring thee As giving it a hope that there
It could not withered be;
But thou thereon didn’t only breathe,
And sent’st it back to me,
Since when it grows and smells, I swear
Not of itself, but thee. — Ben Johnson
- In the dumb and dark night
She laid on the bedside.
Watching the rain touching the windows.
Lesser is the time is all that she knows!
Inside she was silent and depressed
Because her heart and soul was fully wrecked.
Deep in the seas, her smile sank
Trapped she was in a guy’s prank.
Insane! She was to call it to love
In his perspective, it was just lust.
With her eyes full of moisture!
And Surrounding herself with cloister,
Poetizing a verse was her whim
To express the love she had for him!
He to her was,
The Aroma that she wore,
The butterflies in her stomach,
The glitter in her eyes,
The drug she got addicted to,
And the only star in her dead skies.
She sold herself for his love
But all he did was forsook her.
Doleful was the soul and the heart was dead
On the floor, from her veins the blood spread.
For her heartfelt love, she was punished
And here the angel’s love was finished. (The Ditched Soul – By Shriya Kataria)
- Escape me?
Never—
Beloved!
While I am I, and you are you,
So long as the world contains us both,
Me the loving and you the loth,
While the one eludes, must the other pursue.
My life is a fault at last, I fear—
It seems too much like a fate, indeed!
Though I do my best I shall scarce succeed—
But what if I fail of my purpose here?
It is but to keep the nerves at strain,
To dry one’s eyes and laugh at a fall,
And baffled, get up to begin again,—
So the chase takes up one’s life, that’s all.
While look but once from your farthest bound,
At me so deep in the dust and dark,
No sooner the old hope drops to ground
Than a new one, straight to the selfsame mark,
I shape me—
Ever
Removed! — Robert Browning
- You brought me sunshine
when I only saw rain.
You brought me laughter
when I only felt pain.
Romantics at heart?
Love at first sight?
Have I known you before?
God! This feels so right!
Have I met you before?
Another time, another place?
If it’s only one night,
will it bring us disgrace?
What are these feelings?
Must they be temporary?
Just to make you happy
seems so necessary.
I want you to know,
’cause I’ll never forget –
knowing your smile,
your kisses and yet…
Dreams are something,
that can’t always come true,
nothing more we can say,
nothing more we can do. — Donna Donathan
- A sweet disorder in the dress
Kindles in clothes a wantonness:
A lawn about the shoulders thrown
Into a fine distraction–
An erring lace, which here and there
Enthrals the crimson stomacher–
A cuff neglectful, and thereby
Ribbands to flow confusedly–
A winning wave, deserving note,
In the tempestuous petticoat–
A careless shoe-string, in whose tie
I see a wild civility–
Do more bewitch me than when art
Is too precise in every part. — Robert Herrick
- At last, when all the summer shine
That warmed life’s early hours is past,
Your loving fingers seek for mine
And hold them close – at last – at last!
Not loft the robin comes to build
Its nest upon the leafless bough
By autumn robbed, by winter chilled, –
But you, dear heart, you love me now.
Though there are shadows on my brow
And furrows on my cheek, in truth, –
The marks where Time’s remorseless plough
Broke up the blooming sward of Youth, –
Though fled is every girlish grace
Might win or hold a lover’s vow,
Despite my sad and faded face,
And darkened heart, you love me now!
I count no more my wasted tears;
They left no echo of their fall;
I mourn no more my lonesome years;
This blessed hour atones for all.
I fear not all that Time or Fate
May bring to burden heart or brow, –
Strong in the love that came so late,
Our souls shall keep it always now! — Elizabeth Akers Allen
Best Love Poems of All Time
20. Why is it that my heart still skips a beat, every time I feel your touch? How is it that someone so wonderful, let’s me love them oh so very much? — Anonymous
21. I wish I could remember that first day,
The first hour, first moment of your meeting me,
If bright or dim the season, it might be
Summer or Winter for aught I can say;
So unrecorded did it slip away,
So blind was I to see and to foresee,
So dull to mark the budding of my tree
That would not blossom yet for many a May …— Christina Rossetti
22. A stranger came to the door at eve,
And he spoke the bridegroom fair.
He bore a green-white stick in his hand,
And, for all burden, care.
He asked with the eyes more than the lips
For a shelter for the night,
And he turned and looked at the road afar
Without a window light.
The bridegroom came forth into the porch
With, ‘Let us look at the sky,
And question what of the night to be,
Stranger, you and I.’
The woodbine leaves littered the yard,
The woodbine berries were blue,
Autumn, yes, winter was in the wind;
‘Stranger, I wish I knew.’
Within, the bride in the dusk alone
Bent over the open fire,
Her face rose-red with the glowing coal
And the thought of the heart’s desire.
The bridegroom looked at the weary road,
Yet saw but her within,
And wished her heart in a case of gold
And pinned with a silver pin.
The bridegroom thought it little to give
A dole of bread, a purse,
A heartfelt prayer for the poor of God,
Or for the rich a curse;
But whether or not a man was asked
To mar the love of two
By harboring woe in the bridal house,
The bridegroom wished he knew.— Robert Frost
23. The grey sea and the long black land;
And the yellow half-moon large and low;
And the startled little waves that leap
In fiery ringlets from their sleep,
As I gain the cove with pushing prow,
And quench its speed i’ the slushy sand.
Then a mile of warm sea-scented beach;
Three fields to cross till a farm appears;
A tap at the pane, the quick sharp scratch
And blue spurt of a lighted match,
And a voice less loud, through its joys and fears,
Then the two hearts beat each to each!— Robert Browning
24. O my Luve is like a red, red rose
That’s newly sprung in June;
O my Luve is like the melody
That’s sweetly played in tune.
So fair art thou, my bonnie lass,
So deep in love am I;
And I will love thee still, my dear,
Till a’ the seas gang dry.
Till a’ the seas gang dry, my dear,
And the rocks melt wi’ the sun;
I will love thee still, my dear,
While the sands o’ life shall run.
And fare thee weel, my only love!
And fare thee weel awhile!
And I will come again, my love,
Though it were ten thousand miles.— Robert Burns
Famous Short Love Poems
25. This is a word we use to plug
holes with. It’s the right size for those warm
blanks in speech, for those red hearts-
shaped vacancies on the page that look nothing
like real hearts. Add lace
and you can sell
it. We insert it also in the one empty
space on the printed form
that comes with no instructions. There are whole
magazines with not much in them
but the word love, you can
rub it all over your body and you
can cook with it too. How do we know
it isn’t what goes on at the cool
debaucheries of slugs under damp
pieces of cardboard? As for the weed-
seedlings nosing their tough snouts up
among the lettuces, they shout it.
Love! Love! sing the soldiers, raising
their glittering knives in salute.
Then there’s the two
of us. This word
is far too short for us, it has only
four letters, too sparse
to fill those deep bare
vacuums between the stars
that press on us with their deafness.
It’s not love we don’t wish
to fall into, but that fear.
this word is not enough but it will
have to do. It’s a single
vowel in this metallic
silence, a mouth that says
O again and again in wonder
and pain, a breath, a finger
grip on a cliffside. You can
hold on or let go.— Margaret Atwood
26. How does Love speak?
In the faint flush upon the telltale cheek,
And in the pallor that succeeds it; by
The quivering lid of an averted eye–
The smile that proves the parent to a sigh
Thus doth Love speak.
How does Love speak?
By the uneven heart-throbs, and the freak
Of bounding pulses that stand still and ache,
While new emotions, like strange barges, make
Along vein-channels their disturbing course;
Still as the dawn, and with the dawn’s swift force–
Thus doth Love speak.
How does Love speak?
In the avoidance of that which we seek–
The sudden silence and reserve when near–
The eye that glistens with an unshed tear–
The joy that seems the counterpart of fear,
As the alarmed heart leaps in the breast,
And knows, and names, and greets its godlike guest–
Thus doth Love speak.
How does Love speak?
In the proud spirit suddenly grown meek–
The haughty heart grown humble; in the tender
And unnamed light that floods the world with splendor;
In the resemblance which the fond eyes trace
In all fair things to one beloved face;
In the shy touch of hands that thrill and tremble;
In looks and lips that can no more dissemble–
Thus doth Love speak.
How does Love speak?
In the wild words that uttered seem so weak
They shrink ashamed in silence; in the fire
Glance strikes with a glance, swift flashing high and higher,
Like lightning that precede the mighty storm;
In the deep, soulful stillness; in the warm,
The impassioned tide that sweeps through throbbing veins,
Between the shores of keen delights and pains;
In the embrace where madness melts in bliss,
And in the convulsive rapture of a kiss—
Thus doth Love speaks. —Ella Wheeler Wilcox
27. The shine on her buckle took precedence in sun
Her shine, I should say, could take me anywhere
It feels right to be up this close in tight wind
It feels right to notice all the shiny things about you
About you, there is nothing I wouldn’t want to know
With you nothing is simple yet nothing is simpler
About you, many good things come into relation
I think of proofs and grammar, vowel sounds, like
A is for knee socks, E for panties
I is for buttondown, O the blouse you wear
U is for hair clip, and Y your tight skirt
The music picks up again, I am the man I hope to be
The bright air hangs freely near your newly cut hair
It is so easy now to see gravity at work in your face
Easy to understand time, that dark process
To accept it as a beautiful process, your face—Peter Gizzi
28. Before you came things were just what they were:
the road precisely a road, the horizon fixed,
the limit of what could be seen,
a glass of wine was no more than a glass of wine.
With you the world took on the spectrum
radiating from my heart: your eyes gold
as they open to me, slate the color
that falls each time I lost all hope.
With your advent roses burst into flame:
you were the artist of dried-up leaves, sorceress
who flicked her wrist to change dust into soot.
You lacquered the night black.
As for the sky, the road, the cup of wine:
one was my tear-drenched shirt,
the other an aching nerve,
the third a mirror that never reflected the same thing.
Now you are here again—stay with me.
This time things will fall into place;
the road can be the road,
the sky nothing but sky;
the glass of wine, as it should be, the glass of wine.— Faiz Ahmed Faiz
29. Again and again, however we know the landscape of love
and the little churchyard there, with its sorrowing names,
and the frighteningly silent abyss into which the others
fall: again and again the two of us walk out together
under the ancient trees, lie down again and again
among the flowers, face to face with the sky.— Rainer Maria Rilke
Deep Love Poems for Her
30. It’s neither red nor sweet.
It doesn’t melt or turn over,
break or harden,
so it can’t feel
pain, yearning, regret.
It doesn’t have
a tip to spin on,
it isn’t even
shapely— just a thick clutch
of muscle, lopsided,
mute. Still, I feel it inside
its cage sounding
a dull tattoo:
I want, I want— but I can’t open it:
there’s no key.
I can’t wear it
on my sleeve, or tell you from
the bottom of it how I feel. Here,
it’s all yours, now—but you’ll have
to take me, too.— Rita Dove
31. I am yours as the summer air at evening is
Possessed by the scent of linden blossoms,
As the snowcap gleams with light
Lent it by the brimming moon.
Without you, I’d be an unleafed tree
Blasted in a bleakness with no Spring.
Your love is the weather of my being.
What is an island without the sea?— Daniel Hoffman
32. 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 damasked, 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.— William Shakespeare
33. I know a girl who is better than strawberries.
She is farther than the grand white Fujiyama.
She is purer than the water of the wholly Suraj Tal
From where the stream of Chandra flows down
The gorgeous heights of the Himalayas.
She is the spring of joy to me.– Kabir Raichand
34. 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 fibres 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.— William Carlos Williams
35. I have been blessed, I live only for your happiness, for you my love, I will give you my last breath.— Anonymous
36. She walks in beauty, like the night
Of cloudless climes and starry skies;
And all that’s best of dark and bright
Meet in her aspect and her eyes;
Thus mellowed to that tender light
Which heaven to gaudy day denies.
One shade the more, one ray the less,
Had half impaired the nameless grace
Which waves in every raven tress,
Or softly lightens o’er her face;
Where thoughts serenely sweet express,
How pure, how dear their dwelling-place.
And on that cheek, and o’er that brow,
So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,
The smiles that win, the tints that glow,
But tell of days in goodness spent,
A mind at peace with all below,
A heart whose love is innocent!— Lord Byron
37. It’s all I have to bring today—
This, and my heart beside—
This, and my heart, and all the fields—
And all the meadows wide—
Be sure you count—should I forget
Someone the sum could tell—
This, and my heart, and all the Bees
Which in the Clover dwell.— Emily Dickenson
38. Come to me in my dreams, and then
By day I shall be well again!
For so the night will more than pay
The hopeless longing of the day.
Come, as thou cam’st a thousand times,
A messenger from radiant climes,
And smile on thy new world, and be
As kind to others as to me!
Or, as thou never cam’st in sooth,
Come now, and let me dream it truth,
And part my hair, and kiss my brow,
And say, My love, why sufferest thou?
Come to me in my dreams, and then
By day I shall be well again!
For so the night will more than pay
The hopeless longing of the day.— Matthew Arnold
39. The Nymph that undoes me, is fair and unkind;
No less than a wonder by Nature designed.
She’s the grief of my heart, the joy of my eye;
And the cause of a flame that never can die!
Her mouth, from whence wit still obligingly flows,
Has the beautiful blush, and the smell, of the rose.
Love and Destiny both attend on her will;
She wounds with a look; with a frown, she can kill!
The desperate Lover can hope no redress;
Where Beauty and Rigour are both in excess!
In Sylvia they meet; so unhappy am I!
Who sees her, must love; and who loves her, must die!— George Etherege
Cute Love Poems For Her From The Heart
40. Before I met you,
I felt that I couldn’t love anyone,
That nobody would be able to fill the void in my heart,
But that all changed when I met you.
Then I came to realize you were always on my mind.
You’re funny and sweet.
You make me laugh and smile.
You take away all my anger and sadness.
You make me weak when I talk to you.
Then I started to write poems about you.
Now I have come to realize that I am hopelessly in love with you.— Keith Hank
41. When you come to me, unbidden,
Beckoning me
To long-ago rooms,
Where memories lie.
Offering me, as to a child, an attic,
Gatherings of days too few.
Baubles of stolen kisses.
Trinkets of borrowed loves.
Trunks of secret words,
I CRY.— Maya Angelou
42. What do I see in you? Oh boy. Oh boy,
I see mountains and rivers a lifetime of joy,
I see the sun shining on the greyest day,
I see clouds of silver lining my way,
What do I see in you? Oceans of blue,
Colourful rainbows, morning dew,
Trees of glory displaying leaves of green,
I see goodness and beauty in all living things.
I hear creatures of darkness prowling the night,
But I’m safe in your arms as you hold me real tight,
I feel the whispers of the wind entwining my soul,
I feel you breathing, that makes me whole.
I hear the rain falling, and the sun on my face,
I feel the shadows of darkness as me you embrace,
I feel happiness and laughter tears and sorrow,
But without you my love there would be no tomorrow.
I feel thunder and lightning, whenever you’re near,
I feel whispers of love wind brings to my ear,
But of all of the things that nature may bring,
It’s your love I cherish above everything.— Shelagh Bullman
43. When I feel the warmth in her heart
I know she is the one from whom I shall never depart
When I rest my head on her knees
I can weave a future of dreams
As my love, I silently profess
To my darling Princess.— Anonymous
44. She had the most beautiful thing that I had ever seen
And it took only her laugh to realize
that beauty was the least of her— Atticus
45. One day I wrote her name upon the strand,
But came the waves and washed it away:
Again I wrote it with a second hand,
But came the tide, and made my pains his prey.
“Vain man,” said she, “that dost in vain assay,
A mortal thing so to immortalize;
For I myself shall like to this decay,
And eke my name be wiped out likewise.”
“Not so,” (quod I) “let baser things devise
To die in dust, but you shall live by fame:
My verse your vertues rare shall eternize,
And in the heavens write your glorious name:
Where whenas death shall all the world subdue,
Our love shall live, and later life renew.”— Edmund Spenser
46. 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
47. I don’t love you as if you were a rose of salt, topaz,
or arrow of carnations that propagate fire:
I love you as one loves certain obscure things,
secretly, between the shadow and the soul.
I love you as the plant that doesn’t bloom but carries
the light of those flowers, hidden, within itself,
and thanks to your love the tight aroma that arose
from the earth lives dimly in my body.I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where,
I love you directly without problems or pride:
I love you like this because I don’t know any other way to love,
except in this form in which I am not nor are you,
so close that your hand upon my chest is mine,
so close that your eyes close with my dreams—Pablo Neruda
48. You will come one day in a waiver of love,
Tender as dew, impetuous as rain,
The tan of the sun will be on your skin,
The purr of the breeze in your murmuring speech,
You will pose with a hill-flower grace.
You will come, with your slim, expressive arms,
A poise of the head no sculptor has caught
And nuances spoken with shoulder and neck,
Your face in pass-and-repass of moods
As many as skies in delicate change
Of clouds and blue and flimmering sun.
Yet,
You may not come, O girl of a dream,
We may but pass as the world goes by
And take from a look of eyes into eyes,
A film of hope and a memorial day.— Carl Sandburg
49. For her this rhyme is penned, whose luminous eyes,
Brightly expressive as the twins of Loeda,
Shall find her own sweet name, that, nestling lies
Upon the page, enwrapped from every reader.
Search narrowly the lines!—they hold a treasure
Divine—a talisman—an amulet
That must be worn at heart. Search well the measure—
The words—the syllables! Do not forget
The trivialest point, or you may lose your labor!
And yet there is in this no Gordian knot
Which one might not undo without a sabre,
If one could merely comprehend the plot.
Enwritten upon the leaf where now are peering
Eyes scintillating soul, there lie perdus
Three eloquent words oft uttered in the hearing
Of poets, by poets—as the name is a poet’s, too.
Its letters, although naturally lying
Like the knight Pinto—Mendez Ferdinando—
Still form a synonym for Truth—Cease trying!
You will not read the riddle, though you do the best you can do. — Edgar Allan Poe
Beautiful Short Poems To Make Her Feel Special
50. The sky was lit
by the splendor of the moon
So powerful
I fell to the ground
Your love
has made me sure
I am ready to forsake
this worldly life
and surrender
to the magnificence
of your Being — Rumi
51. A glimpse through an interstice caught,
Of a crowd of workmen and drivers in a bar-room around the stove late of a winter night, and I unremarked seated in a corner,
Of a youth who loves me and whom I love, silently approaching and seating himself near, that he may hold me by the hand,
A long while amid the noises of coming and going, of drinking and oath and smutty jest,
There we two, content, happy in being together, speaking little, perhaps not a word.— Walt Whitman
52. 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 everyday’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 Barret Browning
53. My love for you is like the raging sea,
So powerful and deep it will forever be.
Through storm, wind, and heavy rain,
It will withstand every pain.
Our hearts are so pure and love so sweet.
I love you more with every heartbeat!— Elaine Chetty
54. I’m jealous of the morning sun
That gets to be the first to see you
Or the coffee cup
Who gets to kiss your sleepy lips awake — Anonymous
55. Who’s deeply in love with you
a person who would sail any sea
all of that he would do, just for you
He’s not afraid of anything
completely nothing at all
because for you he will conquer all his fears
to save you from all those tears
This person I wish to bring out someday
so I can finally say
These three words I keep deep inside me
which has been trying to break free
I know the time will come
when I can finally tell you
These three wonderful words which are
I Love You— James Toles
56. My lips are full of kisses
they pucker and plump when you are near,
This pair isn’t happy until your lipstick we smear,
My lips are full of kisses
even now they move your way
for the promise of heaven is just a kiss away! — Anonymous
Conclusion
Being a poet, I believe that poetry is one of the most beautiful ways to express your love. It is an art and when you write poetry for someone special it becomes a masterpiece. I hope you liked these poems. Do not forget to share it with your loved ones.
