Saturday, January 22, 2022

56 Romantic Poems To Express Your Love When You’re Short of Words

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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

  1. 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


  1. 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

  1. Your femininity attracts me;

Your steady strength supports me;

Your tenderness sustains me;

You’re the perfect love for me.— Anonymous


  1. 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


When To Get Married: 10 Ultimate Signs You’re Ready
  1. 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


  1. 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


  1. 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


  1. 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


  1. 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

  1. 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


  1. 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


  1. 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


  1. 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


who should wear the pants in a marriage
  1. 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


  1. 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)


  1. 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


  1. 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


  1.  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


  1. 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


couple

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

couples in relationship

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


Relationship

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. 

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