Love Poetry Quotes

“Green was the silence, wet was the light,
the month of June trembled like a butterfly.”
― Pablo Neruda, 100 Love Sonnets

“tell me
of something fiercer
than the love with which
i gaze upon you

of something softer
than the tenderness
with which i hold you.”
― Sanober Khan

“If life transcends death

Then I will seek for you there

If not, then there too”
― James S.A. Corey, Caliban’s War

“Love starts as a feeling,
But to continue is a choice;
And I find myself choosing you
More and more every day.”
― Justin Wetch, Bending The Universe

“I do not write about love
as if I have invented it.
I write about love
because thoughts of you
inspire self-forgetfulness.
And because writing about you
gives birth to a star.
These stars sit inside me
where there was once
darkness.”
― Kamand Kojouri

“I have hunger for your mouth, for your voice, for your hair”
― Pablo Neruda, 100 Love Sonnets

“Home for me is not where I am. Home for me is a physical structure where the girl whom I love is sheltered and protected from the incoming storms of life. Home for me is not where I am safe, but where she is safe. Home for me is not where she exists, but where she lives. She is my home.”
― Juansen Dizon, Confessions of a Wallflower

“Reveal to me everything you find ugly about yourself, so I can reveal to you everything I find beautiful about you.”
― Juansen Dizon, Confessions of a Wallflower

“I did best when I had least truth for my subjects.”
― John Donne, The Complete Poetry and Selected Prose

“Sometimes it feels like even if
Every inch of my skin was touching yours
I still wouldn’t be close enough to you.”
― Justin Wetch, Bending The Universe

“I'm afraid of waking up
to a world where you see
and I am not what you saw”
― Ali Nuri, Rain and Embers

“The soul speaks only through love on different levels of vibration. Love is its root of existence, the living energy that is felt but not seen.”
― Raz Mihal, Just Love Her

“Like two stars in the depths of the sky
This gravity is just irresistible
We spin around each other, you and I
When I fell for you, I fell into your orbit.”
― Justin Wetch, Bending The Universe

“Without the wetness of your love, the fragrance of your water, or the trickling sounds of your voice ― I shall always feel thirsty.”
― Suzy Kassem, Rise Up and Salute the Sun: The Writings of Suzy Kassem

“soles occidere et redire possunt:
nobis cum semel occidit breuis lux,
nox est perpetua una dormienda. ”
― Catullus, Carmina

“The Scholars
"Bald heads forgetful of their sins,
Old, learned, respectable bald heads
Edit and annotate the lines
That young men, tossing on their beds,
Rhymed out in love’s despair
To flatter beauty’s ignorant ear.

They’ll cough in the ink to the world’s end;
Wear out the carpet with their shoes
Earning respect; have no strange friend;
If they have sinned nobody knows.
Lord, what would they say
Should their Catullus walk that way?”
― W.B. Yeats, The Wild Swans At Coole

“I still wake up with things to tell you.”
― Trista Mateer, Honeybee

“I’m wrapped in you.
Melting in your silhouette
and becoming one,
a strange contour of love,
flowing with the wind.”
― Tatjana Ostojic

“Such aching mystery hides,
in your stardust-glimmer eyes.”
― John Mark Green, Taste the Wild Wonder: Poems

“Manhood Diaries (The Sonnet)

Onun için cennet ol, cehennem değil.
Vicdanlı bir adam ol, hayvan değil.
Sé una bendición para ella, no una maldición.
Onun yaralarına ilacı ol, tuz değil.

Be her paradise, not prison.
Be her man, not master.
Be a miracle to her maladies.
Be her crown, not custard.

There is no alpha male and beta male,
There is only man and baboon.
Decency defines a man's character,
Not the virility of his heirloom.

Partner on the streets,
Slave between the sheets,
That's what a real man is.
Undaunted in danger,
Uncompromising in calamity,
That's what a real human is.”
― Abhijit Naskar, Visvavictor: Kanima Akiyor Kainat

“The ghazals are convincing, and patience is a powerful weapon…but the heart of a timid man will never win his lady.”
― Fábio Moon, Two Brothers

“Peach Cobbler



You stirred the pot.
Taking parts of you.
Parts of me.
The good, the bad.
Even the things that aren’t
So pretty to look at.
And poured them into
The pan.
It’s easy to forget about
The hurt until you come
Face to face with it.
Sour peaches aren’t the end
Of the world.
No matter how we layer it.
These are the things we’ve
Come to love about each other.
Even the hurt becomes mixed
In a sugar glaze with enough time.
No matter how bitter.
The brown of my skin
Mixed with yours.
A recipe that’s been done
And passed down before our time.
No matter how much of a mess
We think that things are,
No matter how bruised a peach
We accidentally pick up.
Nothing can replace the warmth
Of a cobbler.
Straight from the oven.
Soon we’ll both be fast asleep.
Your head rising and falling on my chest
With each breath I take.”
― Kewayne Wadley

“Redemption (Love Sonnet)

My crisis is you,
My comfort is you.
My courage is you,
My cowardice you.

My solace is you,
my menace is you.
My prowess is you,
my encumbrance too.

You are my curse,
my only cure.
You are my answer
to selfish lure.

You are my redemption,
my petrification.
You're my fearlessness,
my chosen damnation.”
― Abhijit Naskar, The Divine Refugee

“Hand in hand, my love, come away
with me into the blackness—

by the trunk of an old strong oak:

I long to hold you
all through the night
and, knowing not of dawn,
to not talk once—
a pair of hands
nightswept-earth….

Dawning starlight above
splinters the sky to nerves—

now's time for leaving:

poised on the verge
of shorelines burgeoning
everything inside is
raw and tingling….

Over the mountain in utter aloneness
winds are blowing in a cold void….

Just a few promises I’d packed
when I made my way east

like a cloud torn from moorings

always there've been those of us
who sought their origins
on the road
— under an empty moon—
and the origins of origins….

In electrical well-spring vision

nuzzled in the bosom of hills
on the roaming magnetic earth—

far away though they are
the cloud-river
of stars configures
over and over
these visions of you….

Shaking off its dust—
that glittering icy swirl abides….

On the roaming magnetic earth
lying flat, my eyes shocked awake

by the electric liquid light:

chilling winds do not chill me
I know no harm can hold me
even a killing wound will only
seep me back into the stars...

be seeping out from me:

in the float of her womb
and cradled from the cold—
that cradle-of-stars hanging
the milky way….

Over the bay just-beginning—a cusp and
crescent sliver—by the constellations paling fading….

Transient as I am
from before and into after—

like blue vapor, breath travels
in a light from long ago…

here though I knew she'd be
to be here with her
in scorn of all happenstance
is more than a choice:

a joy that's almost loss—
lightning and paralysis….

The blue fire of delight flickers
through sockets of her skull—

so all the world knows not

or pretends not to know:
a person takes a lifetime
to get to know
but the thrill of remembrance
when our eyes met

was just one instant:
it happens all the time….”
― Mark Kaplon

“What else could eternity be?
on the surface a waterlily

holds shadowy depths
just-kissed with clouds
and rouge surfacing
— on the water’s edge

just-bound, just-bound to break,
and change, but never does....

By rippling refracted waterlight
she dances like a reflection

before me— like a mirage
I watch the visage of her

— and reach for her body
like coursing water
like pulsing-liquid her body
like flesh-contained breath….

Fingers entwine o’er fingers
we thread agile on the trail

over vines and brambles:

by the turn of her head
into tree shade
she shows me the nests
hidden in thickets….

Delighted by the lightness
of her touch, the quickness

of her brow— and notice:
the heaviness
of her breasts
I, too, am carrying….

Oh with her calm, receptive walk
and her quiet, sensitive talk

and with the posture
in which she sits
which slows down
and softens my speech….

Of her am I moved to study
and to muse: how this moment

in the movement of
her swallowing hips
she's a lover, and this moment
behind her sisters

— her nose turned to air—

she walks with childhood,
and now in the shape
of her vase-body she reveals
motherliness, and now

in this moment she is in this
moment she is in this moment….

Now, today we leave this valley
for my love we've a world to show

we've friends, elders, the people to show—
the purple glow
of our presence
the gravity
of our having-met….”
― Mark Kaplon, Song of Rainswept Sand

“Hand in hand, my love, come away
with me into the blackness—

by the trunk of an old strong oak:

I long to hold you
all through the night
and, knowing not of dawn,
to not talk once—
a pair of hands
nightswept-earth….

Dawning starlight above
splinters the sky to nerves—

now's time for leaving:

poised on the verge
of shorelines burgeoning
everything inside is
raw and tingling….

Over the mountain in utter aloneness
winds are blowing in a cold void….

Just a few promises I’d packed
when I made my way east

like a cloud torn from moorings

always there've been those of us
who sought their origins
on the road
— under an empty moon—
and the origins of origins….

In electrical well-spring vision

nuzzled in the bosom of hills
on the roaming magnetic earth—

far away though they are
the cloud-river
of stars configures
over and over
these visions of you….

Shaking off its dust—
that glittering icy swirl abides….

On the roaming magnetic earth
lying flat, my eyes shocked awake

by the electric liquid light:

chilling winds do not chill me
I know no harm can hold me
even a killing wound will only
seep me back into the stars...

be seeping out from me:

in the float of her womb
and cradled from the cold—
that cradle-of-stars hanging
the milky way….

Over the bay just-beginning—a cusp and
crescent sliver—by the constellations paling fading….

Transient as I am
from before and into after—

like blue vapor, breath travels
in a light from long ago…

here though I knew she'd be
to be here with her
in scorn of all happenstance
is more than a choice:

a joy that's almost loss—
lightning and paralysis….

The blue fire of delight flickers
through sockets of her skull—

so all the world knows not

or pretends not to know:
a person takes a lifetime
to get to know
but the thrill of remembrance
when our eyes met

was just one instant:
it happens all the time….”
― Mark Kaplon, Song of Rainswept Sand

“If you saw, my solemnity,
in the distance the shore

that night that shone
like electricity on the foam

if you saw the clouds
the close, homey glow
if you could have saw the stars
the brink of the ocean

and beyond: oceans
upon oceans surrounding….

Dwelling in the wells of her eyes
is a thing like resting—

a thing like, embers of evening
having gone to set
I sit absorbed
in empty depths
beneath the midnight moon….

Mingling of mists, hue and movement
with a faint trace of form—

in windswept pouring blue:

it's no matter who she's been
to me she is a virgin
like the very first kin
twin versions of one….

To-night things of the world are chill
in the light of this one-color realm:

like moon-swept stone's
the skin of her face—
too distant,
and too still,
for my lips
just-here to kiss….

Look— to the gravity of her gaze
your aim hangs suspended:

I looked once and ceased from longing—

ceased as when, freed
of earth's shadow
equal and radiant and whole
that transparent sphere floats
in perfect balance….”
― Mark Kaplon, Song of Rainswept Sand

“Chatting to the gossip of flames
waking from the slumber of

our flesh-drunk night together—

it’s only when I step out
to pee do I notice—
how far, burgundy-dark,
the moon has risen….

On four paws the shepherd-
dogs bound, lightly

though the trees they

hardly touch on earth—
we saw it from far
sunk here
in an always-ache….

Dyeing paling twilight woods—
a pair of wasps, spiraling, writhe….

Wetted lips of hers
and mine, just-parted,

move over each other

with tongues just-coming
but refuse—
like mists of evening
they've no place to settle….

Just-here though she's singing
she’s in some song from long ago—

poised on the brink
of twilight longing
three thousand miles
rush through my heart….

Under undulating curtains—

I hover above her
the tips of me brushing
the tips of her—
breathing back and forth
a column of air

we share our breath
slowly asphyxiating….

From burning wood campfire sparks dart off
extinguishing in the wet blue dark…

how you blow your long wind
across my embers,
through my soul, she pleads me,
take away the pain—

I dip a branch in blue water
and plunge it into coals….

***

In pre-dawn dark, against
a leaping inferno of flames

black monolith of wood
in the cast iron compartment
softens, and—gradually— fractures
to cells, warping upward,

until from the top a shard splinters:
pearls of flame string a fiber
and leap in little tongues
while the log, glowing, engulfed,

is consumed by the inferno contained….

A shadow daunts me, haunts and taunts me
now reaching far, now recoiling, now growing bold….

I once sang eruptions and the wind—

then appeared you
it took my whole life
singing only the songs of you
and still I sing for you

what other refuge
can stay me from this torment?

So— my doppelganger has arrived
no one said it would happen this way

but the way his hands
fold like mine, the style
of his humor, broadness of his smile—
even the way he walks….

Licking and lapping these lashings
of grasses are in tongues at my feet

smoldering's the fury within me—

I have seen my fields of daylight warp
to noxious-air infernos
but still to the clean blue of the flame
I take rest in her breast….

His songs I mouth, and in my head
is his voice— I cannot hear my own….

in my mind I see myself— thin,
stupid— my arms too weak,
my own chest too frail— and besides
I prefer him more….

Along spiral lines, seed-heads decay— swept away
they whirl and writhe in the hot blue fire of evening….

Stuck in a mural of sticky flesh— the family…
I am locked-in-arms with brothers

and sisters, drooping at the thighs
with nieces and nephews,
grafted to parents at the scalp, and
pasted with toddlers all over…

hived, sapped, black I sit, subject
to the flavors and aromas of your abuse….

Then— be wrapped in his presence…

crescendo to his warmth
the cascade of your laughter
search in his wrinkles
for the boy inside him…

I’m just biding here, bragless,
trying to admit these
rival-streams that flow
in one latticework of blood….

Halves of flesh and bosomy hips, lips
like dark ripe fruits they're chasing—

I chased them…

full-feathered was their hair
like floss in the sunshine
fine-fingered was their style
like laces cut to curves:

and then there was you,
returning one, just there
like the midnight moon
in my sky at noontime….”
― Mark Kaplon

“Love speaks without words,
And it's easy to see.
Though sometimes undercut by false mimicry,
Love takes a hold in so many ways
That you know it's not blind by the end of the day
Because you can see what it does
And how it makes you feel,
How it pushes through trials
And holds tight to what's real.
Love lives behind what we say on the outside.
It's the words we use, then, combined,
With the feeling we get
When we're close and confined,
And the way our bodies speak
With perfect design.”
― Emma vanGrieken

“But, at the end of the day,
if you ever think you were wrong about it all,
I'm here where I have always been:
sitting by the harbor, waiting for you to walk to me again.”
― Athena Violante, The ones who could never stay