Love Poems

Sentimental Song

A pad and pen lie by his side
This moonless night of fall.
And though he tries to hush his pride,
To only see the tears she cried,
His hands refuse to breach the wall,
A pithy line to scrawl.

His mind, in angst, replays the day
And sees the pain she felt.
For he had let a donkey's bray
Escape his lips without delay,
Not thinking of what pain it dealt
When he shot out his pelt.

Now deep regret besets his mind,
For what he did was wrong.
His hands relent and reach to find
The pad and pen they first declined,
To write for her, ten pages long,
A sentimental song.

Image by Beccalee from Pixabay

The Pain She Bears

A searing ache within my heart
Has taken hold of me.
I've been adrift the years apart,
Forgotten, trodden, loath to start,
Again, like sailors lost at sea,
Not able death to flee.

Awakened spring will kiss the day
And blush the sky at dawn.
And ere the birds arise to play,
I cling to my dear love and pray,
To have my woes forever gone,
A joyous day to don.

We rise with hope the day is blest;
Her kiss expels my cares.
I lay my head atop her breast
And thank her for this time of rest,
For keeping me in daily prayers
While all my pain she bears.

Image by StockSnap from Pixabay

Lovely As Thee

O, a poem lovely as thee,

No poet wrote for eyes to see.

Not Frost nor Blake, not even Keats,

Though pens have bled on countless sheets.

And though I've searched both high and low,

Not one has shared your wondrous glow.

I think, perhaps, a future prose,

May capture half your glowing rose.

And yet, I know it will not hold,

The beauty eyes of mine behold.

But still, I search in case you go,

So words may fill that day of woe.

Image by Katzenfee50 from Pixabay

Beauty And Grace

Oh, blest is the wind that caresses your face,
The sun at dawn, when awakened, my dear.
No flower can best your beauty and grace!

And see, high above, the clouds giving chase
To the breath that has kissed the lobe of your ear.
Oh, blest is the wind that caresses your face.

Your hair, in the breeze, is linen and lace;
Your lips, in the eve, have filled me with cheer.
No flower can best your beauty and grace!

When the sun smiles upon your arms in embrace,
Your eyes, full of life, like embers appear.
Oh, blest is the wind that caresses your face.

As you twirl in your dance, your steps I'll retrace;
The day that we wed, I'll forever revere.
No flower can best your beauty and grace!

Oh come, my beloved, let's go to our place
And ignite a love the stars wish to peer.
Oh, blest is the wind that caresses your face!
No flower can best your beauty and grace!

Image by JacksonDavid from Pixabay

A Walk At Night

She's bathed with light across her face,
And freckles line her argent skin.
Her dazzling smile is seen from far;
She rouses souls with life within.

I gaze at her ascending form,
And smile at her flirtatious ways;
The times she hides behind a cloud,
To then display her lover's rays.

For eons she has danced the nights,
As waking stars suffuse the skies.
She walks with lovers hand in hand,
Aglow with light that she supplies.

Around me ring the sounds of night,
Cacophonies that soothe the mind.
Afar I hear beguiling calls,
The songs of love from two aligned.

My eyes again return to her,
Now full and bright, like beaming brides;
Like one I held the day we wed,
The girl in whom my heart resides.

Image by susan-lu4esm from Pixabay

Before He Goes

Reflecting on his years of youthful strength,
When lilting words his sharpened mind would stir,
The aging poet leans upon his desk,
Then pens his inmost thoughts to share with her.

Behind him, Death, observes his trembling hand.
He smirks as he awaits the poet's end.
Prolonged has been the wait to claim his breath,
To end the endless taunts he's often penned.

The poet bleeds his thoughts while shedding tears,
As they convey a love he yearns to show.
He knows that soon he'll leave his darling wife,
And all he wants to say will also go.

“My wife and friend, I love you so,” he writes,
“But now I grieve from thoughts of leaving you.
I sense that Death has come for me this night;
He'll end what I had planned to share anew.

But worry not, my lovely flower girl,
For Death cannot erase my words of truth.
They will caress your mind in times of pain
And give you what I hid during my youth.”

And so the poet writes throughout the night,
Composing verses held within his heart.
Unnumbered pages clasp his every word,
Inscribed with what his lips would not impart.

Immersed in thought, he walks toward the bed
And gently sets the pages on his wife.
He softly whispers words of boundless love,
The ones he should have said to her in life.

When dawn awakes, his eyes begin to fade
As he repeats the words his heart has said.
Then Death prepares to claim the relished prize
While reading all the words the poet bled.

Image by congerdesign from Pixabay

Inner Beauty

Alas, my flower's bloom begins to fade,
And all that I can do is share her fate.
Her lustrous eyes display a dimmer shade,
Surrendering to time their lively state.

O, selfish time, why won't you hold your rage
And cease demanding tolls to you be paid?
Her supple petal wilts and pales with age;
Away have gone the days that time betrayed.

But time cannot erase the bond we hold
Nor change the inner treasure she displays.
That beauty, spun like finest threads of gold,
Has sealed to endless time my loving gaze.

Her outer garment soon will fade away,
But time her inner grace cannot decay.

Image by geraldfriedrich2 from Pixabay

To You, My Wife

To you, my wife, my love, I declare.
My joy and gain, a gift to me, blessed,
A morning flower of beauty and flair!

O flesh of mine, this heart you repair
Whenever sadness tramples my rest.
To you, my wife, my love, I declare.

Your lips of honey with me you share.
I cherish the nights your softness I quest,
A morning flower of beauty and flair!

Each day we rise, our feelings we bare,
Smiling with joy, our fondness to crest.
To you, my wife, my love, I declare.

While holding hands, we walk without care.
O love, with you, I know I've been blest,
A morning flower of beauty and flair!

Unending life with you is my prayer;
Eternity sighs the words I've confessed.
To you, my wife, my love, I declare,
A morning flower of beauty and flair!

Image by Takmeomeo from Pixabay

What She Wants

If I could give one thing to her,
What would she want that thing to be?
A diamond sparkling on her hand,
Or roses laid across the sea?

Would she prefer a string of pearls,
A golden necklace, earrings too?
Or maybe homes in Southern France;
A charming cottage with a view.

Perhaps a gown of choicest silk,
A voyage on the open sea,
Or bank accounts where money flows,
Expensive shoes, a spending spree?

These things to her I'd gladly give,
Without a pause, had I the means.
But I'm a simple, humble man
Of little wealth and tattered jeans.

I did find out from my dear wife,
One day of fall under a tree,
That all she wants is my true love
And spend eternity with me.

Image by Pixabay

If Only

If only I could dial back the years,
Return to when we met and married young.
I would erase the times that caused your tears,
Replacing bitter words with ones not sung.

If only you could hear those words in songs,
You then would see my heart has ached for you.
Regretful for the hurt and foolish wrongs,
The ache and tears I brought, I daily rue.

If only you could read my mournful heart,
Your own would feel the pain I always hold.
A pain that lingers still and won't depart
Until the day my blood is running cold.

But now, in silver years, all I can do
Is love you even more than when we wed.
And treasure all the moments I'm with you
As I recite the words my pen has bled.

Image by annca from Pixabay

Should Words Fail Me

Should I be lying on our bed
As darkness waits for my last breath,
Upon your face I wish to shed
My one last glance, then laugh at death.

Should frailty cause my arms to die,
And I'm unable hugs to share,
Please know with every breath I sigh,
My love for you, I will declare.

Should darkness veil my aging eyes
And keep your lovely face from me,
I will replay the smile I prize,
Within my mind, where I can see.

Should words then fail to freely flow
From my old lips to say goodbye,
With my last breath you'll surely know
How deeply you are loved, and why.

Image by Diego PH from Unsplash

Endless Bloom

She worries that her softest bloom is gone,
The beauty that was hers in younger years.
She reminisces days of early dawn,
When flawless skin awoke to gleeful cheers.

She frets her steps have lost their sultry dance,
Her slender figure time has cast away.
She dreads her crown to white will soon advance,
So feels it is in vain to hide her gray.

But I don't see the years her mirror shows,
Instead I view a bloom's maturing glow.
Her smile, her lively eyes and button nose,
Are still like early days of long ago.

The mirror only sees her graying years,
But I the graceful bloom beneath the tears.

Image by Bessi from Pixabay

Enjoy the poem in video form.

Raindrops Call

A storm descends to mar the day
As he looks out from the café.
He then recalls his years of pain
And soon laments the falling rain.

'Twas long ago in budding years,
He filled a void with pleading tears.
He was naïve, too young to know
The bitter pain that love can sow.

Her amber skin, kissed by the sun,
Was like the softest fabric spun.
Her walk and smile would brighten days
When sadness hung like walls of haze.

Her eyes were twins of burning coal
That lit aflame the heart she stole.
Her pouting lips his breath would take,
Which moved his heart with love to wake.

But like all tales of ages gone,
Of love that's young — like early dawn —
The brighter light can soon expose
Infatuation's gasping throes.

The storm abates, the wind relents,
And he returns from his laments.
A trailing rain is what remains,
And silence echoes as it wanes.

He hears a voice as raindrops fall;
They've joined as one — for her, they call;
Like tears, he shed the day she left,
Like tears he shed the day she left.

Image by ronymichaud from Pixabay

Intangible

I rise this morn with thoughts of you,
A graceful girl that I once knew.
The shore extends a warm invite
To walk in search of time once bright.

The surf replays melodic tunes
As it caresses sandy dunes.
The sand gives way to stepping feet,
The rising sun with smiles I greet.

The gulls in playful circles fly
With calls that lace the morning sky.
They sing of times when walks we shared,
Of days our hearts with love had paired.

But now, all that remains of you
Are windy whispers I can't view.
Intangible, as you've become,
To gentle whispers, I succumb.

Image by Angel L Villanueva

Unforgotten

He sits alone as waves surround his feet,
While distant calls of gulls the quiet break.
The sand gives way with water in retreat,
The waves that fail to wash away his ache.

It has been long since she last said goodbye —
When dashing looks arrayed his youthful form.
He can't let go, as hard as he may try,
For deep within remains a teary storm.

Her images caress his pleading mind,
And then he questions why she let him die.
The answer that he seeks he fails to find;
In endless whispers, he keeps asking, why?

The sleepy sun begins to close its eye,
And he recalls when last he spoke to her.
With trembling lips, he tries to bid her bye —
But merely has the strength for words to slur.

He writes her name upon the dampened sand,
Then sees her graceful beauty once again.
A wave begins to stretch and spread its hand
And carries her away, but not the pain.

Image by Pexels from Pixabay

My Belle

This night I wonder with a sigh
As she lies here, right next to me,
Who would I be as years went by,
Had she declined with me to be?

Would I be happy? Deeply sad?
Would I feel empty, even lost?
Would I regret the life I had?
Would I forget our paths had crossed?

I frown to think of life alone,
Of years without her form to hold.
These thoughts at night, of such unknown,
Make dreamers dream since time untold.

And yet, it’s silly that I dwell
On thoughts of sadness late at night,
For she has been my lovely belle
Since we first met, so all is right.

Image by Angel L Villanueva

Till Death Us Part

I recall the years gone by,
Married young — such hopeful eyes;
Days and nights of that July,
Thirty years plus six, our ties.

Happy days and blissful nights,
Times of ache when we were pained.
Through it all, we kept our sights
On our love, from hate abstained.

Here we stand as time has passed;
Loyal friends, that's what we are.
Looking back into our past,
Treasured times — a grand memoir.

Strongly etched upon my heart,
Words of love for you still burn.
Stable, until we depart,
Holding hands, to dust return.

Image by satyamkumarpe from Pixabay

Endless Dream

I walk the trail in hopes of reaching you
As winter sheds her tears of crystal ice.
I rise above snowdrifts, the trail to view,
But find my steps alone do not suffice.

On knees, I crawl across the banks of snow
As yearnings for your touch keep urging on.
For strength, you grant to me when I am low,
When many times near death my breath has drawn.

But I awaken, as all other nights,
An empty shell, for love has been denied.
Then dawn arrives anew, as searing lights,
While frozen tears, the trail proceeds to hide.

My endless dream denies a final climb,
But patiently I wait for love sublime.

Image by KELLEPICS from Pixabay

One Last Candle

The angry storm approaches in the night,
Its curdling howl is heard for miles around.
The trees all flinch in fear of nature's smite,
Then cast their sobbing leaves upon the ground.

No soul dare venture out to face the storm,
For nature's wrath is not so lightly scorned.
The lights go out as winds in anger swarm;
The frightened city now lies unadorned.

Yet here I lie in rest with you, my love,
As candles lift the veil that darkness brings.
Securely sleeping like a peaceful dove,
Your arms around me are your regal wings.

I gaze at you when calm outside returns,
And kiss your face as one last candle burns.

Image by Pexel

This Leaf

Oh, this leaf!
This leaf, to my chest I cleave!
For it holds within itself,
The image of your lips so sweet.
How I crave your scented breath,
When your lips descend on me.

Oh, this leaf!
So luscious it looks to me!
As your lips its shape resembles,
In crimson hues, its color bleeds.
How I love to feel the softness,
When your lips descend on me.

Oh, this leaf!
How can I ever release?
When apart I am from you,
It reminds me of what can be.
How can I contain this heart,
When your lips descend on me?

Photo Credit: Alexander Kobtsev - Best of Russia

Her Vow

Along the banks of River Rhine,
She walks alone tonight.
Her eyes are fixed above the sky
To find a comet's flight.

She'll name it for the one she lost
When Death approached one night,
To carry on his noble name,
Where stars are born in light.

Cologne and Basel, Strasbourg too,
Observe with keen delight,
For from her lips now flows a song
That only angels write.

Her words of love move heavenward
As tears of pain cascade.
She speaks of him with tenderness
And vows his name won't fade.

Image by LisaChe from Pixabay

Merging Dreams

In the cover of darkness,
  She steps into his dream.
Wondrous are the images
  She sees playing in his mind.
Enchanted by the images,
  She continues further.
Soon, what she searches for
  Is exposed to her eyes.
It is the last of his dreams,
  Still encased in a silky cocoon.
She smiles and patiently waits
  For the dream will soon take flight.
Not long after emerges a butterfly,
  Brightly colored and eager to rise.
Spreading her wings,
  She invites him to follow,
To share a midnight dance,
  Then kiss at dawn's arrival.

Public Domain Image

Lasting Beauty

The early years have departed;
  Brief is the course of life.
Yet, time’s passing has not
  Dimmed the love in my heart.
For though your outer bloom
  Has gradually faded,
Your inner beauty remains.
  Loving and affectionate,
Your grace ties my
  Heart to your own
And will hold me captive
  Until Death from me demands
My unpaid debt.

Image by JillWellington from Pixabay

The Painting

The painting is all I have
To remind me of your grace.
A beauty so rich and deep,
The colors offer but a trace.

Your eyes follow my steps,
My defeated heart on the wall.
When I pause before your face,
My tears yearningly fall.

I caress you with my fingers
And plead for your return,
But death mocks my tears,
The tears I can't unlearn.

When you own my dreams at night,
In soliloquy, my heart despairs,
For your presence on our bed,
The painting cannot share.

Image courtesy of paintingvalley.com CC BY-NC 4.0 License

Which One Is The Rose

In silence, from a distance,
My eyes are drawn to your face.
I start reciting poems
Of love wrapped softly in lace.

I yearn for a closer look;
Her hands caress you lightly.
Your fragrance she enjoys;
Her eyes she closes slightly.

I adore your stunning glow,
A crimson painting ablaze,
Resplendent in appearance,
As you glory in her praise.

On reaching where you bask,
I pause to relish the view
And offer words of thanks
To her who holds you too.

But when she looks at me,
My heart is stunned anew,
Clearly discerning now,
The rose is her with you.

Image source: Shibumi - Desktop Nexus

Walk With Me

Hold my hand,
walk with me;
allow me to show you
the stages of our love
in this wonderful journey...
eros — for your beauty consumes me;
agape — for it is unconditional;
storge — for deep is our affection;
philia — for unbreakable is our friendship.
And so,
as we walk hand in hand,
enduring arduous times,
setbacks and obstacles,
remember,
the stages of our love
will nourish us,
strengthen us,
cement us,
until we reach our destination,
in eternity's embrace.

Photo source : photoartinc.com/free-wedding-photos-3/

Love Poems

It is a marvelous achievement when married couples face and overcome challenges the world throws at them while staying strong in their love for each other.

However, there can also be pain and heartache when a loved one dies, or a relationship fails. Times of anguish, no doubt. Several of my poems touch on this genuine part of life.

Though many of the poems I've written are derived from personal experience, not all are autobiographical.

I've written many for my wife but have also composed poems inspired by an image, an article I read, or observations made in other relationships.

To read a poem, click on its thumbnail image.

Images used under Creative Commons CC0 license, permission from the copyright owner, or are part of the public domain.