What love poem would you like to hear on Valentine's Day?

Question

I am putting together an event reading of love poems at a poetry house for Valentines Day. What famous love poems would you like to hear? I am especially stuck looking for comic ones (Wendy Cope is good though) and also more modern (but famous) ones such as ones written in the 1960s and in this decade (the noughties!?). Any ideas? Thanks

Answer 1

This is one of my favourites:
The Dream
by Edna St. Vincent Millay

Love, if I weep it will not matter,
And if you laugh I shall not care;
Foolish am I to think about it,
But it is good to feel you there.

Love, in my sleep I dreamed of waking,
White and awful the moonlight reached
Over the floor, and somewhere, somewhere
There was a shutter loose- it screeched!

Swung in the wind- and no wind blowing-
I was afraid and turned to you,
Put out my hand to you for comfort-
And you were gone! Cold as the dew,

Under my hand the moonlight lay!
Love, if you laugh I shall not care,
But if I weep it will not matter-
Ah, it is good to feel you there.


P.S: I am very interested in the event you are hosting, it sounds great, where is this poetry house? And when?

Answer 2

The classic would be Sonnet 18 ( Shall I compare thee) by Mr W Shakespear.

I'm not a classic Gal' so for me....Saturday Morning by Hugo Williams would be fun on Valentines day.

Answer 3

Anything by the band Incognito is positive and meaningfull

The lyrics can pass as poetry any day

see:

i'll be there

As long as it's you

Still a friend of Mine

too many to remember..

happy new year!

Answer 4

I was hoping for an Addendum Nose upturned Lover spurned Dinner burned Lesson learned!

Answer 5

i'd fall at once in the arms of the one who whispers me a poem of Rimbaud or Verlaine or Victor Hugo... "[...]Shudders rise and rumble, and the delerious savor of these effects clashing with the deadly hissings and the hoarse music that the world, far behind us, hurls at our mother of beauty. She recoils, she rears up. Oh, our bones are clothed with an amorous new body. [...]
O the ashy faces, the crined escutcheon, the crystal arms! the cannon on which I am to fall in the melee of trees and of light air![...]" ;)

Answer 6

Garcia Lorca

Answer 7

If I heard any that were directed towards me I would be so shocked I'd be speachless for several minutes. It wouldn't matter how corney, mushy, gushy, ir any of that stuff. If I heard one pointed to me I would just appreceate the thought. So whatever you like would be fine by me.

Answer 8

the balcony scene poem from Romeo and Juliet (with the shakesparian english substituted with modern english)

Answer 9

Anything spoken softly in french and accompanied by gentle piano music... It could even be the label from a can of soup....
It wouldn't matter because I can't speak french... <*j*>

Answer 10

(For Aline)

Monsignore,
Right Reverend Bishop Valentinus,
Sometime of Interamna, which is called Ferni,
Now of the delightful Court of Heaven,
I respectfully salute you,
I genuflect
And I kiss your episcopal ring.

It is not, Monsignore,
The fragrant memory of your holy life,
Nor that of your shining and joyous martyrdom,
Which causes me now to address you.
But since this is your august festival, Monsignore,
It seems appropriate to me to state
According to a venerable and agreeable custom,
That I love a beautiful lady.
Her eyes, Monsignore,
Are so blue that they put lovely little blue reflections
On everything that she looks at,
Such as a wall
Or the moon
Or my heart.
It is like the light coming through blue stained glass,
Yet not quite like it,
For the blueness is not transparent,
Only translucent.
Her soul's light shines through,
But her soul cannot be seen.
It is something elusive, whimsical, tender, wanton, infantile, wise
And noble.
She wears, Monsignore, a blue garment,
Made in the manner of the Japanese.
It is very blue-
I think that her eyes have made it more blue,
Sweetly staining it
As the pressure of her body has graciously given it form.
Loving her, Monsignore,
I love all her attributes;
But I believe
That even if I did not love her
I would love the blueness of her eyes,
And her blue garment, made in the manner of the Japanese.

Monsignore,
I have never before troubled you with a request.
The saints whose ears I chiefly worry with my pleas
are the most exquisite and maternal Brigid,
Gallant Saint Stephen, who puts fire in my blood,
And your brother bishop, my patron,
The generous and jovial Saint Nicholas of Bari.
But, of your courtesy, Monsignore,
Do me this favour:
When you this morning make your way
To the Ivory Throne that bursts into bloom with roses
because of her who sits upon it,
When you come to pay your devoir to Our Lady,
I beg you, say to her:
"Madame, a poor poet, one of your singing servants yet on earth,
Has asked me to say that at this moment he is especially grateful to you
For wearing a blue gown".