love poems

Love poems for hopeless romantics; I'm the poet and you're my muse.

Another Life Lived
Up Belfast, On streets flagged and fenced, No longer with the ambulances, You are a missed love, From my end of the border.
By Conor Matthewsabout a year ago in Poets
"Bend don't break"
This hurts— not just in pain, but in love. Longing for connection denied by agenda, comforting insecurities while adding more.
By Marcus Hillabout a year ago in Poets
A Little Girl Was Born Today
A new bundle of joy A new baby girl, oh boy Grandma loves her already haven’t met her, but I’m ready to go to the hospital just as soon
By Denise E Lindquistabout a year ago in Poets
When the Ink is Mine
When the Ink is Mine I set my voice upon the page where ink remembers every age the paper waited still for me to shape the words that needed free
By ♿ V+ Marie381Uk about a year ago in Poets
Evening Winnows.
Where do you need me to be, In the furnace or the seas? Burning coals that fire my spirit, Or crashing waves that sink my feet?
By Marvelous Michaelabout a year ago in Poets
Rose Quartz Ring
[Verse] Silver loops that never end Wrapped around A heart of rose quartz An Infinity ring's promise An image etched in our minds
By Julie O'Hara - Author, Poet and Spiritual Warriorabout a year ago in Poets
Meet Me In The Stars
[Verse] I felt it all along We never would belong In this world built of stone Now you're gone [Prechorus] It’s not fair
By Julie O'Hara - Author, Poet and Spiritual Warriorabout a year ago in Poets
When the Light
I met you mid-question not in a moment wrapped in perfection, but on the edge of something undone, like a page torn from a book
By Printique Studiosabout a year ago in Poets
You only miss something when it has gone
You only miss something when it has gone You don’t hear the clock, until it stops and the room feels too still You don’t notice the way
By ♿ V+ Marie381Uk about a year ago in Poets
The Path of Silence
Quietly soft— like the touch of wind brushing the face yet leaving no sound behind. No “i” to dot, no “t” to cross. A bright, crisp page— untouched by any ink. And then… someone who wished to make the first mark stepped into my story. The day was heavy with clouds. Gentle raindrops slid down the window, like time— unable to stop. I sat at an old wooden desk, surrounded by stacks of paper, and a pen that seemed to have waited for centuries for me to write something. She arrived— silently— and took the chair opposite mine. No greeting, no question. Only a quiet smile, as if she already knew everything. I wondered— is a story something we write, or something that writes itself through us? She didn’t speak, but in her eyes, I saw the ocean. I looked into those waves and found myself far away— on a shore where even my footprints were erased by the water. No ache that demanded I bear a cross. No promise that could become a burden. Only a game where winning meant losing yourself. And I… was losing and winning at the same time. A claim to fame, at any cost— I never sought it. But maybe she did. Or maybe she knew that every story ends by living forever in someone’s memory. Night deepened, the rain grew heavier. We had not spoken a single word, yet lines began to appear on the paper— as if unseen hands were guiding my fingers. Chapter One— A boy, living in a city where every window was shut and every heart locked. Each day he carried a white sheet of paper, and sat in the city’s heart, waiting for someone to make the first mark. One day a girl came. Her hands carried the scent of rain, and in her eyes was that same ocean I had once seen beyond the window. They met— without words. Between them, a blank page. And the breath of the wind wrote the first word— “Silence.” The paper kept filling, but strangely, neither of them could remember what was written. Every word, once placed, was erased by the wind— leaving only a faint trace, like the shadow of someone long gone. Finally, for the first time, she looked at me and said one word— “Get lost.” I closed my eyes, and when I opened them there was no desk, no paper, no rain, no her. I was on an empty road, lined with bending trees, where light trickled through the leaves and spilled onto the ground. Even the light was silent. I took a step forward, and with each step my memories faded a little more. This was the same game— where winning meant losing yourself completely. I looked back one last time. Far away… so far, she stood there, smiling, holding that same blank page— still untouched. Perhaps stories never truly end. They simply become silence.
By Janalamabout a year ago in Poets
Found memory
A thoughtless, delicate memory, constantly connecting fragments of facts with the true content of non-fictional rivals of longevity and fertility, anecdotes of partners, and the lush vanity of human feelings, like a manifesto of freedom framed in a picture where every corner has a different meaning of the beauty of the inner world, an unforgettable moment, carved out of a city park, the beauty of people. I hold you tightly in my arms, though more in yours. I hold myself because I can hardly believe you are here to be here now, and I truly believe it. So let's go visit that tower over there, in that window, and I'll kiss you. At some point, all the minerals were enriched by a superhuman force not of this world, healing the soul and body, restoring them to normal, and replenishing them with everything a person needs to live. A new kind of youth calls for fun and a departure from what we know. We must go into the unknown to start all over again... Look at your face. The lips of a Japanese geisha took on the shape of an undefined rose; all the thorns disappeared, a deep, delicate, silky red of love warmed the whole body, the almonds, looking menacing, transformed into the goodness of seeing the beauty of simplicity. Is it love? Is it peace? Is it happiness like being calm?
By Antea Lumina Kala Matylda about a year ago in Poets
Contemplations
even if they seemed like just a morning flame with the hardest surface on fire first, later just fighting to exist, and now coming closer to you looks like the peace is in there and the new order is already reordering everything that need it just like that just for now a luxurious way of yours that put one in the deepest state that lasts and lasts and it bring you back to life at One time
By Antea Lumina Kala Matylda about a year ago in Poets