1247 Love poems

i carry your heart with me(i carry it in my heart)i am never without it(anywhere i go you go,my dear;and whatever is done by only me is your doing,my darling) i fear no fate(for you are my fate,my sweet)i want no world(for beautiful you are my world,my true) and it’s you are whatever a moon has always meant and whatever a sun will always sing is you here is the deepest secret nobody knows (here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud and the sky of the sky of a tree called life;which grows higher than soul can hope or mind can hide) and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart)

I cry your mercy—pity—love!—aye, love! Merciful love that tantalizes not, One-thoughted, never-wandering, guileless love, Unmasked, and being seen—without a blot! O! let me have thee whole,—all—all—be mine! That shape, that fairness, that sweet minor zest Of love, your kiss,—those hands, those eyes divine, That warm, white, lucent, million-pleasured breast, Yourself—your soul—in pity give me all, Withhold no atom’s atom or I die Or living on perhaps, your wretched thrall, Forget, in the mist of idle misery, Life’s purposes,—the palate of my mind Losing its gust, and my ambition blind!

I feel horrible. She doesn’t love me and I wander around the house like a sewing machine that’s just finished sewing a turd to a garbage can lid.

I find no peace, and all my war is done. I fear and hope. I burn and freeze like ice. I fly above the wind, yet can I not arise; And nought I have, and all the world I season. That loseth nor locketh holdeth me in prison And holdeth me not—yet can I scape no wise— Nor letteth me live nor die at my device, And yet of death it giveth me occasion. Without eyen I see, and without tongue I plain. I desire to perish, and yet I ask health. I love another, and thus I hate myself. I feed me in sorrow and laugh in all my pain; Likewise displeaseth me both life and death, And my delight is causer of this strife.

carefully folded, swooned, postpartum posthaste— my letter to you, I gave— curious, you said uncanny you said the color of my eyes in this light is a different shade of green said you don't eat meat but you wear leather outside the birds & inside the sun on the chair & my thighs spread & stick to the plastic & you said you loved it & the ampersand & my swoon silently inside my skirt & the ochre on the building changes to umber in the light & the tree outside is bare & I am, my foot inside my slipper my toes curled behind & ow & yes & some days are sunny days & some days are

Highlight Actions Enable or disable annotations "I grant you ample leave grant you ample leave In other words, to let you express your grand opinion To use the hoary hoary Ancient, worthy of respect for its age formula 'I am' Naming the emptiness where thought is not; But fill the void with definition, 'I' Will be no more a datum datum A single piece of data or information than the words You link false inference false inference In philosophy and logic, an inference is the act or process of deriving logical conclusions from premises known or assumed to be true. Inferences are typically evaluated to be valid or invalid. with, the 'Since' & 'so' That, true or not, make up the atom-whirl atom-whirl The orbital paths of electrons around the nucleus . Resolve your 'Ego' ‘Ego’ Latin for “I”. , it is all one web With vibrant ether clotted into worlds: Your subject, self, or self-assertive 'I' Turns nought but object, melts to molecules, Is stripped from naked Being with the rest Of those rag-garments named the Universe. Or if, in strife to keep your 'Ego' strong You make it weaver of the etherial light etherial light Heavenly light , Space, motion, solids & the dream of Time — Why, still 'tis Being looking from the dark, The core, the centre of your consciousness, That notes your bubble-world bubble-world : sense, pleasure, pain, What are they but a shifting otherness, Phantasmal flux Phantasmal flux A fantastic, ghostlike stream or flow of moments? —"

I had just hung up from talking to you and we had been so immersed in the difficulty you were facing, and forgive me, I was thinking that as long as we kept talking, you in your car in the parking lot of the boys’ school as the afternoon deepened into early evening, and me in the study, all the books around that had been sources of beauty to us, as long as we stayed in the conversation padded with history like the floor of the pine forest, as long as I thought out loud, made a joke at my own expense, you would be harbored in that exchange, but the boys were leaving the track and after we hung up I looked out the window to see the top of the bare January trees spotlit to silvery red, massive but made from the thinnest twigs at the ends of the branches at the ends of the limbs they were waving and shining in a light like no other and left only to them.

I have to tell you, there are times when the sun strikes me like a gong, and I remember everything, even your ears.

I hid my love when young till I Couldn't bear the buzzing of a fly; I hid my love to my despite Till I could not bear to look at light: I dare not gaze upon her face But left her memory in each place; Where'er I saw a wild flower lie I kissed and bade my love good-bye. I met her in the greenest dells, Where dewdrops pearl the wood bluebells; The lost breeze kissed her bright blue eye, The bee kissed and went singing by, A sunbeam found a passage there, A gold chain round her neck so fair; As secret as the wild bee's song She lay there all the summer long. I hid my love in field and town Till e'en the breeze would knock me down; The bees seemed singing ballads o'er, The fly's bass turned a lion's roar; And even silence found a tongue, To haunt me all the summer long; The riddle nature could not prove Was nothing else but secret love.

I knew a woman, lovely in her bones, When small birds sighed, she would sigh back at them; Ah, when she moved, she moved more ways than one: The shapes a bright container can contain! Of her choice virtues only gods should speak, Or English poets who grew up on Greek (I’d have them sing in chorus, cheek to cheek). How well her wishes went! She stroked my chin, She taught me Turn, and Counter-turn, and Stand; She taught me Touch, that undulant white skin; I nibbled meekly from her proffered hand; She was the sickle; I, poor I, the rake, Coming behind her for her pretty sake (But what prodigious mowing we did make). Love likes a gander, and adores a goose: Her full lips pursed, the errant note to seize; She played it quick, she played it light and loose; My eyes, they dazzled at her flowing knees; Her several parts could keep a pure repose, Or one hip quiver with a mobile nose (She moved in circles, and those circles moved). Let seed be grass, and grass turn into hay: I’m martyr to a motion not my own; What’s freedom for? To know eternity. I swear she cast a shadow white as stone. But who would count eternity in days? These old bones live to learn her wanton ways: (I measure time by how a body sways).