I kneel down: I look at the earth,
the grass,
insects,
little stems blooming with blues.
You are like the spring earth, my love,
Iam looking at you.

I lie on my back: I see the sky,
the branches of a tree,
storks on the wing,
a waking dream.
You are like the spring sky, my love,
I see you.

At night I light a campfire: I touch fire,
water,
cloth,
silver.
You are like a fire lit beneath the stars,
I touch you.

I go among people: I love people,
action,
thought,
struggle .
You are one person in my struggle,
I love you.

Nazim Hikmet Ran

Hello my dear classmates,
I see we forgot about poetry.I like to read them all the time.I was just writing those words and got tired and wanted to share with you this poems about "Love".I know many people here are sick with this sickness.It is for you.
I hope you like them.

TRUE LOVE IS "WE"
INSTEAD OF "ME"

True love is being the best of friends -
being able to say and share anything while
still being sensitive to the other's feelings.
True love is built upon complete trust -
complete by knowing that you can never
be deceItful or misleading, because to do
so would forever cloud the relationship
with doubt.
True love is knowing that you'd rather
be with this other person than with enyone
else, and yet you feel a sence of emptiness
when the two of you are apart.
It's when you always think of the
future in terms of "we" instead of "me".
True love is treasuring the touch of
the other person while feeling a sence of
contentment and completeness as you
emotionally and physically embrace.
True love is wanting to make the other
person happy and fulfilled in every possible
way while doing everything you can to
prevent their distress.
True love is a commitment to working
out the differences that will alwyas come
about when two people become one.
It is knowing that life will bring pain
and sorrow, but together, you will support
each other and overcome even the most
difficult times.
True love is showing and saying " I love you" even when you both know - through a simple smile - that doing so isn't necessary.
True love is complete within itself, and it
lasts into eternity/

TIM TWEEDIE

I give to you
My heart and soul
I give to you
Life within my hand
And all the happiness that I can
I give to you
Part of me
And all what I stand
I give to you
The moment
shared
When two people touch
hand in hand
I give to you
The sunset
And the fallen night
With its stars so bright
I give to you
The life we can share
And all the love that I can.

RICHARD W. WEBER

Hello my dear Daydreamer,
This is for you

Alexander Pushkin

Wondrous Moment

The wondrous moment of our meeting . . .
I well remember you appear
Before me like a vision fleeting,
A beauty's angel pure and clear.

In hopeless ennui surrounding
The worldly bustle, to my ear
For long your tender voice kept sounding,
For long in dreams came features dear.

Time passed. Unruly storms confounded
Old dreams, and I from year to year
Forgot how tender you had sounded,
Your heavenly features once so dear.

My backwoods days dragged slow and quiet—
Dull fence around, dark vault above—
Devoid of God and uninspired,
Devoid of tears, of fire, of love.

Sleep from my soul began retreating,
And here you once again appear
Before me like a vision fleeting,
A beauty's angel pure and clear.

In ecstasy the heart is beating,
Old joys for it anew revive;
Inspired and God-filled, it is greeting
The fire, and tears, and love alive.

Thanks a lot Bliss...you made my day

You are very welcome!
More to come, dear...

SYMPTOMS OF LOVE

Love is universal migraine,
A bright stain on the vision
Blotting out reason.

Symptoms of true love
Are leanness, jelousy,
Laggard dawns;

Are omens and nightmares -
Listening for a knock,
Waiting for a sign:

For a touch of her fingers
In a darkened room,
For a searching look.

Take courage, lover!
Could you endure such grief
At any hand but hers?
ROBERT GRAVES


IN LOVE FOR LONG

I've been in love for long
With what I cannot tell
And will contrive a song
For the intangible
That has no mould or shape,
From whish there's no escape.

It is not even name,
Yet is all constancy;
Tried or untried, the same,
It cannot part from me;
A breath, yet as still
As the established hill.

It is not any thing,
And yet all being is;
Being, being, being,
Its burden and its bliss,
How can I ever prove
What it is I love?

This happy happy love
Is sieged with crying sorrows,
Crushed beneath and above
Between todays ahd morrows;
A little paradise
Held in the world's vice.

And there it is content
And careless as a child,
And in imprisonment
Flourishes sweet and wild;
In wrong, beyond wrong,
All the world's day long.


This love a moment known
For what I do not know
And in a moment gone
Ia like the happy doe
That keeps its perfect laws
Between the tiger's paws
And windicates its cause.
EDWIN MUIR


LOVE IS NOT

Love is not just a function of the eyes.
Beutiful objects will, of course, inspire
Possessive urges - you need despise
Your taste. But when insatible desire
Inflames you for a girl who's out of fashion,
Lacking in glamour - plain, in fact - that fire
Is genuine; that's the authentic passion.
Beauty, though, any critic can admire.


AH, YOU THOUGHT

Ah - you thought I'd be the type
You could forget,
And that praying and sobbing, I'd throw myself
Under the hooves of bay.

Or I would beg from the witches
Some kind of root in charmed water
And send you a terrible gift -
My intimate, scented handkerchief.

Damned if I will.Niether by glance nor by groan
Will I touch your cursed soul,
But I vow to you by the garden of angeles,
By the miraculous icon I vow
And by fiery passion of our nights -
I will never return to you.

ANNA AKHMATOVA

* * *
I broke off the branch of love
I buried it in the earth
and look
my garden has blossomed

one cannot kill love
if you bury it in the earth
it grows back
if you toss it into the air
it grows leaflike wings
dropped into the water

it flashes with gills
immersed in the night
it shines

so I wanted to bury it in my heart
but my heart was home to my love
my heart opened its heart’s door
and it rang out with song from wall to wall
my heart danced on my fingertips

so I buried my love in my head
and people asked
why my head has blossomed
why my eyes shine star-like
and why my lips are brighter than the dawn

I wanted to tear this love to pieces
but it was supple it entangled my hands
and my hands are bound with love
people ask whose prisoner I am

Halina Poswiatowska

To my friends with love…

Bliss and Slavica - I can't believe it! Girls - you're the best

Hello, girls!!!
Thank you so much sestrichka.I love it.
Daydreamer I've promised to you to write poems for you and trying to keep my word,dear.
I am glad you like it.
Love you

DEAD STILL

Now, with your palms on the blades of my shoulders,
Let us embrace;
Let there be only your lips' breath my face,
Only , behind our backs, the plunge of rollers.

Our backs, whiCh like two shells in moonlight shine,
Are shut behind us now;
We lie here huddled, listening brow to brow,
Like life's twin formula or double sign.

In folly's world-wide wind
Our shoulders shield from the weather
The calm we now beget togheter,
Like a flame held between hand and hand.

Does each cell have a soul within it?
If so, fling open all your little doors,
And all your souls shall flutter like the linnet
In the cages of my pores.

Nothing is hidden that shall not be known.
Yet by the storm of scorn shall we
Be pried from this embrace, and left alone
Like muted shells forgetful of the sea.

Meanwhile, O load of stress and bother,
Lie on the shells of our backs in a great heap:
It will but press us closer, one to the other.

We are asleep

ANDREI VOZNESENSKY


LAST LOVE

Love at the closing of our days
is apprehensive and very tender.
Glow brighter, brighter, farewell rays
of one last love in its evening splendour.

Blues shade takes half the world away:
through western clouds alone some light is slanted.
O tarry, O tarry, declining day,
enchantment, let me stay enchated.

The blood runs thinner, yet the heart
remains as ever deep and tender.
O last belated love, thou art
a blend of joy and hopless surrender.

FYODOR TYUTCHEV

> This is my favourite poem u should know that
>
>
>
>Please Hear What I'm Not Saying
>
>
>
> Don't be fooled by me.
>
> Don't be fooled by the face I wear
>
> for I wear a mask, a thousand masks,
>
> masks that I'm afraid to take off,
>
> and none of them is me.
>
>
>
> Pretending is an art that's second nature with me,
>
> but don't be fooled,
>
> for God's sake don't be fooled.
>
> I give you the impression that I'm secure,
>
> that all is sunny and unruffled with me, within as well
>
> as without,
>
> that confidence is my name and coolness my game,
>
> that the water's calm and I'm in command
>
> and that I need no one,
>
> but don't believe me.
>
> My surface may seem smooth but my surface is my mask,
>
> ever-varying and ever-concealing.
>
> Beneath lies no complacence.
>
> Beneath lies confusion, and fear, and aloneness.
>
> But I hide this. I don't want anybody to know it.
>
> I panic at the thought of my weakness exposed.
>
> That's why I frantically create a mask to hide behind,
>
> a nonchalant sophisticated facade,
>
> to help me pretend,
>
> to shield me from the glance that knows.
>
>
>
> But such a glance is precisely my salvation, my only hope,
>
> and I know it.
>
> That is, if it's followed by acceptance,
>
> if it's followed by love.
>
> It's the only thing that can liberate me from myself,
>
> from my own self-built prison walls,
>
> from the barriers I so painstakingly erect.
>
> It's the only thing that will assure me
>
> of what I can't assure myself,
>
> that I'm really worth something.
>
> But I don't tell you this. I don't dare to, I'm afraid to.
>
> I'm afraid your glance will not be followed by acceptance,
>
> will not be followed by love.
>
> I'm afraid you'll think less of me,
>
> that you'll laugh, and your laugh would kill me.
>
> I'm afraid that deep-down I'm nothing
>
> and that you will see this and reject me.
>
>
>
> So I play my game, my desperate pretending game,
>
> with a facade of assurance without
>
> and a trembling child within.
>
> So begins the glittering but empty parade of masks,
>
> and my life becomes a front.
>
> I tell you everything that's really nothing,
>
> and nothing of what's everything,
>
> of what's crying within me.
>
> So when I'm going through my routine
>
> do not be fooled by what I'm saying.
>
> Please listen carefully and try to hear what I'm not
>saying,
>
> what I'd like to be able to say,
>
> what for survival I need to say,
>
> but what I can't say.
>
>
>
> I don't like hiding.
>
> I don't like playing superficial phony games.
>
> I want to stop playing them.
>
> I want to be genuine and spontaneous and me
>
> but you've got to help me.
>
> You've got to hold out your hand
>
> even when that's the last thing I seem to want.
>
> Only you can wipe away from my eyes
>
> the blank stare of the breathing dead.
>
> Only you can call me into aliveness.
>
> Each time you're kind, and gentle, and encouraging,
>
> each time you try to understand because you really care,
>
> my heart begins to grow wings--
>
> very small wings,
>
> very feeble wings,
>
> but wings!
>
>
>
> With your power to touch me into feeling
>
> you can breathe life into me.
>
> I want you to know that.
>
> I want you to know how important you are to me,
>
> how you can be a creator--an honest-to-God creator--
>
> of the person that is me
>
> if you choose to.
>
> You alone can break down the wall behind which I tremble,
>
> you alone can remove my mask,
>
> you alone can release me from my shadow-world of panic,
>
> from my lonely prison,
>
> if you choose to.
>
> Please choose to.
>
>
>
> Do not pass me by.
>
> It will not be easy for you.
>
> A long conviction of worthlessness builds strong walls.
>
> The nearer you approach to me
>
> the blinder I may strike back.
>
> It's irrational, but despite what the books say about man
>
> often I am irrational.
>
> I fight against the very thing I cry out for.
>
> But I am told that love is stronger than strong walls
>
> and in this lies my hope.
>
> Please try to beat down those walls
>
> with firm hands but with gentle hands
>
> for a child is very sensitive.
>
>
>
> Who am I, you may wonder?
>
> I am someone you know very well.
>
> For I am every man you meet
>
> and I am every woman you meet.
>
>
>
>
>Charles
>C. Finn