How beautiful! I love you without knowing how or when or from where. I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride; so I love you because I know no other way than this; where I does not exist, nor you, so close that your hand on my chest is my hand, so close that your eyes shut as I fall asleep.
Variation on the Word Sleep Margaret Atwood, I would like to watch you sleeping, which may not happen. I would like to watch you, sleeping. I would like to sleep with you, to enter your sleep as its smooth dark wave slides over my head. I would like to give you the silver branch, the small white flower, the one word that will protect you from the grief at the center of your dream, from the grief at the center.
I would like to be the air that inhabits you for a moment only. No way! That was my wedding poem too!!! And I love Atwood generally. The line about hands reaching in the darkness is just so true. This is everything I have learned about marriage: nothing. Only that the world out there is complicated, and there are beasts in the night, and delight and pain, and the only thing that makes it okay, sometimes, is to reach out a hand in the darkness and find another hand to squeeze and not be alone. Because home is wherever you are both together. So this is everything I have to tell you about love and marriage: nothing, like a book without pages or a forest without trees.
Because there are some things you cannot know before you experience them. Because no study can prepare you for the joys or trials. And because in the darkness you will reach out a hand, not knowing for certain if someone is even there. And your hands will meet, and then neither of you will ever need to be alone again. This is perfect. My 20th anniversary is this September, and now I know what to give him ;- Thanks. Thank you for sharing this. I stumbled upon it on his blog, I think? So glad to be able to introduce it to a few new people.
Thank you for lovely words, ladies. And happy anniversary, Nancy! What a beautiful milestone. Love is not all: it is not meat nor drink Nor slumber nor a roof against the rain; Nor yet a floating spar to men that sink And rise and sink and rise and sink again; Love can not fill the thickened lung with breath, Nor clean the blood, nor set the fractured bone; Yet many a man is making friends with death Even as I speak, for lack of love alone.
It well may be. I do not think I would. 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. Because you yell at your keys when you lose them, and laugh, loudly, at your own jokes.
Because you can hold a pistol, gut a pig. Because you memorize songs, even commercials from thirty years back and sing them when vacuuming. You have soft hands. Because when we moved, the contents of what you packed were written inside the boxes. Because you think swans are overrated. Because you drove me to the train station. You drove me to Minneapolis.
You drove me to Providence. Because you make that pork recipe you found in the Frida Kahlo Cookbook. Because when you read that essay about Rilke, you underlined the whole thing except the part where Rilke says love means to deny the self and to be consumed in flames. Because when the lights are off, the curtains drawn, and an additional sheet is nailed over the windows, you still believe someone outside can see you. I swoon everytime. So many beautiful poems! If you like poetry, you should listen to The Slowdown podcast with Tracy K. Does it look like a pair of pyjamas, Or the ham in a temperance hotel?
Does its odour remind one of llamas, Or has it a comforting smell? Is it prickly to touch as a hedge is, Or soft as eiderdown fluff? Is it sharp or quite smooth at the edges? O tell me the truth about love. Does it howl like a hungry Alsatian, Or boom like a military band? Could one give a first-rate imitation On a saw or a Steinway Grand? Is its singing at parties a riot?
Does it only like Classical stuff? Will it stop when one wants to be quiet? Can it pull extraordinary faces? Is it usually sick on a swing? Does it spend all its time at the races, or fiddling with pieces of string? Has it views of its own about money? Does it think Patriotism enough? Are its stories vulgar but funny? Will it knock on my door in the morning, Or tread in the bus on my toes?
Will it come like a change in the weather? Will its greeting be courteous or rough? Will it alter my life altogether? When the phone rings, I put it to my ear without saying hello. In the restaurant I point at chicken noodle soup. I am adjusting well to the new way. Late at night, I call my long distance lover, proudly say I only used fifty-nine today.
I saved the rest for you. After that, we just sit on the line and listen to each other breathe. You fall like falling through space. And when you get there it all looks different: the flowers, the animals, the colours people wear.
It is a big surprise falling in love because you thought you had everything just right on your own planet, and that was true, in a way, but then somebody signalled to you across space and the only way you could visit was to take a giant jump. And you can bring your dog. Or your cat. Your goldfish, hamster, collection of stones, all your odd socks. The ones you lost, including the holes, are on the new planet you found.
And you can bring your friends to visit. And read your favourite stories to each other. Thanks for always sharing interesting things! When I thought it was right to name my desires, what I wanted of life, they seemed to turn like bleating sheep, not to me, who could have been a caring, if unskilled, shepherd, but to the boxed-in hills beyond which the blue mountains sloped down with poppies orange as crayfish all the way to the Pacific seas in which the hulls of whales steered them in search of a mate for whom they bellowed in a new, highly particular song we might call the most ardent articulation of love, the pin at the tip of evolution, modestly shining.
In the middle of my life it was right to say my desires but they went away. Yet I see the small lights of winter campfires in the hills— teenagers in love often go there for their first nights—and each yellow-white glow tells me what I can know and admit to knowing, that all I ever wanted was to sit by a fire with someone who wanted me in measure the same to my wanting. To want to make a fire with someone, with you, was all. My now husband and I had a long distance flirtation after meeting at a wedding. On the first morning I woke up with the craziest most intense leg cramps.
After all that walking I was so afraid I was going to have the crazy leg cramps again so when we got back to his apartment his ran a bath with epsom salts for me, sat on a chair behind the half closed door so as not to glare ; and read me Brautigan poems which are of course equal parts hilarious and heartbreaking: I live in the Twentieth Century by Richard Brautigan.
I live in the Twentieth Century and you lie here beside me. You were unhappy when you fell asleep. There was nothing I could do about it. I felt hopeless. Love your story, Danielle! And love Brautigan, who is so underrated. When we are driving in the dark, on the long road to Provincetown, when we are weary, when the buildings and the scrub pines lose their familiar look, I imagine us rising from the speeding car. I imagine us seeing everything from another place— the top of one of the pale dunes, or the deep and nameless fields of the sea. And what we see is a world that cannot cherish us, but which we cherish.
And what we see is our life moving like that along the dark edges of everything, headlights sweeping the blackness, believing in a thousand fragile and unprovable things. Looking out for sorrow, slowing down for happiness, making all the right turns right down to the thumping barriers to the sea, the swirling waves, the narrow streets, the houses, the past, the future, the doorway that belongs to you and me. So think long and hard before deciding on love.
Because crooks and muggers think love is unpredictable. Who knows what love could do in its own defense? On cold winter nights, love is warm. It lies between you and lives and breathes and makes funny noises. Love wakes you up all hours of the night with its needs. It needs to be fed so it will grow and stay healthy.
But come home and love is always happy to see you. It may break a few things accidentally in its passion for life, but you can never be mad at love for long. Love makes messes. Love leaves you little surprises here and there. Love needs lots of cleaning up after.
Sometimes you just want to get love fixed. Sometimes love just wants to go for a nice long walk. Because love loves exercise. It runs you around the block and leaves you panting. But love makes you meet people wherever you go. People who have nothing in common but love stop and talk to each other on the street. Throw things away and love will bring them back, again, and again, and again. But most of all, love needs love, lots of it. And in return, love loves you and never stops. They stood. And stood for something. Just by standing.
In waiting. But there For sure. Sure and unbending. O pastel turrets, pods and tapering stalks That stood their ground for all our summer wending And even when they blanched would never balk. And none of this surpassed our understanding. But way sweeter, of course. Gosh, this is gorgeous. But our wedding song is pure poetry:. Sun sets on this ocean Never once on my devotion However you are Or far that you are.
We did Union, too! We went to four weddings before ours after we had picked the reading, and hearing it hit us both right in the feels. My twin sis read a poem about French horns announcing love at my wedding reception, and I wish I could find it. It was so touching—she and my now husband and I played horn together in high school and were pals that one year.
More than a decade later, the French horns were right when he and I re-met. And yet sometimes all seems post coitum triste and I a mere bystander. Somebody else is going off, getting shot to the moon. Or, a moon-race! I love that it captures the wonder of discovering your partner over and over. Every time I read it I tear up. By all of a sudden I mean that for more than thirty years she had not whistled. It was thrilling. At first I wondered, who was in the house, what stranger? I was upstairs reading, and she was downstairs.
As from the throat of a wild and cheerful bird, not caught but visiting, the sounds war- bled and slid and doubled back and larked and soared. Finally I said, Is that you? Is that you whistling? Yes, she said. I used to whistle, a long time ago. Now I see I can still whistle. And cadence after cadence she strolled through the house, whistling.
I know her so well, I think. I thought. Elbow and ankle- Mood and desire. Anguish and frolic. Anger too. And the devotions. And for all that, do we even begin to know each other? Aww, I love reading through all the poems in the comments! I read a Mark Twain poem to our husband during our reception as part of my speech we both gave short thank you speeches :. I cannot promise you a life of sunshine; I cannot promise riches, wealth, or gold; I cannot promise you an easy pathway That leads away from change or growing old.
Our wedding poem. Simple but so sweet in its straightforward delivery of the very reason we were choosing each other. I like you and I know why. I like you because you are a good person to like. You say, Remember when you told me something special And both of us remember. This is really simple, clever and lovely : I think it captures the little joys that make a really great relationship. Thanks for sharing. I love this. This is one of my favorites, by Pablo Neruda which is much more delicious in its original Spanish.
When I die I want your hands on my eyes: I want the light and the wheat of your beloved hands to pass their freshness over me one more time to feel the smoothness that changed my destiny. I want you to live while I wait for you, asleep, I want for your ears to go on hearing the wind, for you to smell the sea that we loved together and for you to go on walking the sand where we walked.
I want for what I love to go on living and as for you I loved you and sang you above everything, for that, go on flowering, flowery one,. But we used this in our very small wedding…. Now you will feel no rain, for each of you will be the shelter for each other. Now you will feel no cold, for each of you will be the warmth for the other. Now you are two persons, but there is only one life before you. Go now to your dwelling place to enter into the days of your life together.
And may your days be good and long upon the earth. Treat yourselves and each other with respect, and remind yourselves often of what brought you together. Give the highest priority to the tenderness, gentleness and kindness that your connection deserves. When frustration, difficulty and fear assail your relationship — as they threaten all relationships at one time or another — remember to focus on what is right between you, not only the part which seems wrong.
In this way, you can ride out the storms when clouds hide the face of the sun in your lives — remembering that even if you lose sight of it for a moment, the sun is still there. And if each of you takes responsibility for the quality of your life together, it will be marked by abundance and delight.
A little less sappy, a slightly different perspective, but even more amazing:. If I was in the fridge, would you open the door? If I was the grass, would you mow your lawn? If I was your body, would you still wear clothes? If I was a booger, would you blow your nose? Would you keep it? If I was the front porch swing would you let me hang?
So many beautiful poems! Fantasies Always one fantasy. Love other people, love them well Wear your love on your lapel. In the restaurant I point at chicken noodle soup. Everlasting Love By Douglas J.
If I was the dance floor would you shake your thing? If I was a rubber check would you let me bounce Up and down inside your bank account? Would ya trust me, not to break you? If I was a haircut would you wear a hat? If I was a maid, could I clean your flat?
If I was the carpet would ya wipe your feet, In time to save me from mud off the street?
This poem is never one I would read at a wedding, but to me it is a devastatingly raw, true and loving portrayal of what marriage is. Standing by the one you love through sickness and health. Robert Lowell suffered many nervous breakdowns and Elizabeth Hardwick, his wife, whom he wrote this for, saw him through. Now twelve years later, you turn your back. Sleepless, you hold your pillow to your hollows like a child; your old-fashioned tirade— loving, rapid, merciless— breaks like the Atlantic Ocean on my head.
I want to know if you will risk looking like a fool for love for your dream for the adventure of being alive. I want to know if you can sit with pain mine or your own without moving to hide it or fade it or fix it. I want to know if you can be with joy mine or your own if you can dance with wildness and let the ecstasy fill you to the tips of your fingers and toes without cautioning us to be careful to be realistic to remember the limitations of being human.
I want to know if you can disappoint another to be true to yourself. If you can bear the accusation of betrayal and not betray your own soul. If you can be faithless and therefore trustworthy. I want to know if you can see Beauty even when it is not pretty every day. And if you can source your own life from its presence. I want to know if you can get up after the night of grief and despair weary and bruised to the bone and do what needs to be done to feed the children.
I want to know if you will stand in the centre of the fire with me and not shrink back. I want to know what sustains you from the inside when all else falls away. I want to know if you can be alone with yourself and if you truly like the company you keep in the empty moments. Aww, I loved that poem so much. This poem always strikes a chord in me. More in tune with loving yourself, the best relationship to love. As far as possible, without surrender, be on good terms with all persons.
Speak your truth quietly and clearly; and listen to others, even to the dull and the ignorant; they too have their story. Avoid loud and aggressive persons; they are vexatious to the spirit. If you compare yourself with others, you may become vain or bitter, for always there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself.
Enjoy your achievements as well as your plans. Keep interested in your own career, however humble; it is a real possession in the changing fortunes of time. Exercise caution in your business affairs, for the world is full of trickery. But let this not blind you to what virtue there is; many persons strive for high ideals, and everywhere life is full of heroism. Be yourself. Especially do not feign affection. Neither be cynical about love; for in the face of all aridity and disenchantment, it is as perennial as the grass.
Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden misfortune. But do not distress yourself with dark imaginings. Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness. Beyond a wholesome discipline, be gentle with yourself. You are a child of the universe no less than the trees and the stars; you have a right to be here. And whether or not it is clear to you, no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should. Therefore be at peace with God, whatever you conceive Him to be. And whatever your labors and aspirations, in the noisy confusion of life, keep peace in your soul. With all its sham, drudgery and broken dreams, it is still a beautiful world.
Be cheerful. Strive to be happy.
All I want is you, will you be my bride Take me by the hand and stand by my side All I want is you, will you stay with me? Hold me in your arms and sway me like the sea. My husband picked this for our wedding song! He picked one thing for our wedding, the music — a bluegrass band. They learned to play a few songs for us, that being one of them. We dreaded our first dance but once it was happening, we had so much fun :. This is one of our favourite family songs and reading this poem also reminded me of it.
My six year old daughter sometimes adds to the lyrics, which is sometimes sweet and sometimes, wtf? Thank you for posting this, Annie! My favorite part of this recording may actually be hearing the NYC traffic honking in the background. Both of us have abusive in our pasts, so believing in our love took enormous amounts of faith. There is a faith in loving fiercely the one who is rightfully yours, especially if you have waited years and especially if part of you never believed you could deserve this loved and beckoning hand held out to you this way. I am thinking of faith now and the testaments of loneliness and what we feel we are worthy of in this world.
My partner has this incredible, beautiful, contagious laugh. I read a few stanzas of this poem at our wedding which was last weekend! It left everyone very teary — him and I included. Take bread away from me, if you wish, take air away, but do not take from me your laughter. Do not take away the rose, the lance flower that you pluck, the water that suddenly bursts forth in joy, the sudden wave of silver born in you.
My struggle is harsh and I come back with eyes tired at times from having seen the unchanging earth, but when your laughter enters it rises to the sky seeking me and it opens for me all the doors of life. My love, in the darkest hour your laughter opens, and if suddenly you see my blood staining the stones of the street, laugh, because your laughter will be for my hands like a fresh sword. Next to the sea in the autumn, your laughter must raise its foamy cascade, and in the spring, love, I want your laughter like the flower I was waiting for, the blue flower, the rose of my echoing country.
Laugh at the night, at the day, at the moon, laugh at the twisted streets of the island, laugh at this clumsy boy who loves you, but when I open my eyes and close them, when my steps go, when my steps return, deny me bread, air, light, spring, but never your laughter for I would die. It will be read when we get married next summer : We have been together since high school, so these lines always bring tears to my eyes:.
I love you from my childhood, starting back there when one day was just like the rest, random growth and breezes, constant love, a sand- wich in the middle of day, a tiny step in the vastly conventional path of the Sun. I squint. I wink. I take the ride. So I give her this month and the next Though the whole of my year should be hers who has rendered already So many of its days intolerable or perplexed But so many more so happy.
Who has left a scent on my life, and left my walls Dancing over and over with her shadow Whose hair is twined in all my waterfalls And all of London littered with remembered kisses. How wonderful! I found a poem, or maybe it was just advice, on Cup of Jo a few years ago, and have never been able to find it again. Jess, I do love that quote too. Real love is about weathering the storms of life together.
This is written by a poet from Manchester in the UK some of his poems are on the side of buildings there. Something about the way that mother bunny chases and loves that baby bunny even when the baby bunny wants to go be independent just kills me. Things were not as bad as I had thought. The scrape in the fender of the rented car could be hidden with a little white paint before I returned it to the agency.
This CD of New Age music, which I disliked at first, with its synthetic wind of pulsing jellyfish, does a remarkable job of slowing down my heart. Merely to have survived to this point is already the most unlikely triumph; to still be breathing and trying to improve. Something about him makes me feel like I am about to fall. Or turn to liquid.
Or burst into flames. Need some special words for your lady love? Up your game with these love quotes for her that are perfect to use on special occasions. Major bonus points the unexpected love note! It has nothing to do with me. I love what you are, what you do, how you try. And I understand with perfect clarity exactly what you are.
I love that it takes you an hour and a half to order a sandwich. I love that you get a little crinkle above your nose when you're looking at me like I'm nuts. I love that after I spend the day with you, I can still smell your perfume on my clothes. And I love that you are the last person I want to talk to before I go to sleep at night. And it's not because I'm lonely, and it's not because it's New Year's Eve.
I came here tonight because when you realize you want to spend the rest of your life with somebody, you want the rest of your life to start as soon as possible. And to always know in the deepest part of my soul that no matter what challenges might carry us apart, we will always find our way back to each other. Looking for more love quotes? Our collection of cute love quotes will make you smile without being too heavy-handed about your love. My kids are gonna be right about that.
Anyway, the thing is, what I really mean Yours are the sweetest eyes I've ever seen. And the greatest thing we can do is to let people know that they are loved and capable of loving. He kept it hid And so did she. They searched for blue Their whole life through, Then passed right by- And never knew. Maybe you just need one person. If they were easy, they'd call them something else. Make a statement with these funny love quotes that are sure to get a laugh.
At night, the ice weasels come. But a little chocolate now and then doesn't hurt. Schulz "I love being married. It's so great to find that one special person you want to annoy for the rest of your life. Save the grand gestures and romantic speeches for your reception; sometimes brevity is key! Just as you are. The more you give, the more you have.