Dear Poetry With Love
If ever wife was happy in a man, Compare with me, ye women, if you can. I prize thy love more than whole Mines of gold Or all the riches that the East doth hold. My love is such that Rivers cannot quench, Nor ought but love from thee give recompetence.
- Famous Poems.
- dear love,.
- Dear Jane Hirshfield from Angelica.
- A bit of a giggle - 100 reasons to smile.
- follow poets.org?
- How small are the things I like?
Thy love is such I can no way repay. The heavens reward thee manifold, I pray. Then while we live, in love let's so persever That when we live no more, we may live ever.
Wonderful write for your husband Report Reply. An intense poem on love I wasn't prepared to read such a glorious declaration of love from a woman of the 's. That husband was a very fortunate man, wasn't he? If we all could express our love to our loved ones, there would be far less couples getting divorced. Compare it with me if you can!
Dear Linda Gregerson from Aurora
Thanks for sharing this poem with us. What a wonderful ode to a loving hubby. Congrats for being the PoD. Simply superb love poem that takes love to an astonishingly elevated level. So before I explain more or make any full decisions - here are a few questions:. Just want to hear from you guys on this.
- Pretty Names for Girls.
- The Enemy, the Weather, and the Terrain: The Effects of Weather on Historical Battles.
- I need suggestions/opinions.
- Energy Security in Asia (Routledge Security in Asia Pacific Series)!
- Der Fischer - Score.
- Anne Bradstreet?
- Muslim Women Reformers: Inspiring Voices Against Oppression.
- The Flipside.
- LIsle Joyeuse.
- Dear Jane Hirshfield from Angelica | Academy of American Poets.
My mind is a lot more clear emotionally and I think I could continue once more. However - if I do, I may make a whole new blog instead of a side blog to keep things better organized.
Quick Links - NPM
I am machine, cold, though I want to be devoured like sweet blood oranges. Scarred, crimson fruit in autumns alleyways.
I have never known the meaning of silence. I am too loud, not loud enough. My knees are their own bruised universe as I ask for wisdom spread along my soil. My branches - they shake with insecurity. I want him to hurt me.
dear love, by Barbara Jane Reyes | Poetry Foundation
Claw his way through my anatomy - into the darkest parts of me. This is not love. Yet, I take shelter within the mere, forbidden thought of his tombstone teeth along the strong steel of my rib-cage. I will never get the smell of death or glory out of my sheets.
This alone is merely the anatomy of my survival. Feel free to write about any of my poems! Also, no I have yet to be published anywhere. And I apologize that I did not see this sooner.