Some Love Poems

by Stephanie Lovegrove November 15, 2010

As always, I love to use my blog posts to share poems, since poetry can sometimes fall low on the priority list among the myriad day-to-day concerns. I am currently in the midst of planning my wedding, so the poems on my mind are ones I've been researching for readings at our ceremony. The trick is finding ones that are sweet (but not too sweet), resonant (without being generic), and, for me, filled with images and phrases that make me jealous I didn't write them myself. Enjoy what I've found so far!

Sonnet XVII: Love by Pablo Neruda

I don't love you as if you were the salt-rose, topaz
or arrow of carnations that propagate fire:
I love you as certain dark things are loved,
secretly, between the shadow and the soul.
I love you as the plant that doesn't bloom and carries
hidden within itself the light of those flowers,
and thanks to your love, darkly in my body
lives the dense fragrance that rises from the earth.
I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where,
I love you simply, without problems or pride:
I love you in this way because I don't know any other way of loving
but this, in which there is no I or you,
so intimate that your hand upon my chest is my hand,
so intimate that when I fall asleep it is your eyes that close.

***

Having a Coke with you by Frank O'Hara

is even more fun than going to San Sebastian, Irún, Hendaye, Biarritz, Bayonne
or being sick to my stomach on the Travesera de Gracia in Barcelona
partly because in your orange shirt you look like a better happier St. Sebastian
partly because of my love for you, partly because of your love for yoghurt
partly because of the fluoresent orange tulips around the birches
partly because of the secrecy our smiles take on before people and statuary
it is hard to believe when I'm with you that there can be anything as still
as solemn as unpleasantly definitive as statuary when right in front of it
in the warm New York 4 o'clock light we are drifting back and forth
between each other like a tree breathing through its spectacles
and the portrait show seems to have no faces in it at all, just paint
you suddenly wonder why in the world anyone ever did them
I look at you and I would rather look at you than all the portraits in the world
except possibly for the Polish Rider occasionally and anyway it's in the Frick
which thank heavens you haven't gone to yet so we can go together the first time
and the fact that you move so beautifully more or less takes care of Futurism
just as at home I never think of the Nude Descending a Staircase or
at a rehearsal a single drawing of Leonardo or Michelangelo that used to wow me
and what good does all the research of the Impressionists do them
when they never got the right person to stand near the tree when the sun sank
or for that matter Marino Marini when he didn't pick the rider as carefully as the horse
it seems they were all cheated of some marvellous experience
which is not going to go wasted on me which is why I am telling you about it

***

June Light by Richard Wilbur

Your voice, with clear location of June days,
Called me outside the window. You were there,
Light yet composed, as in the just soft stare
Of uncontested summer all things raise
Plainly their seeming into seamless air.
Then your love looked as simple and entire
As that picked pear you tossed me, and your face
As legible as pearskin's fleck and trace,
Which promise always wine, by mottled fire
More fatal fleshed than ever human grace.

And your gay gift—Oh when I saw it fall
Into my hands, through all that naïve light,
It seemed as blessed with truth and new delight
As must have been the first great gift of all.



Stephanie Lovegrove
Stephanie Lovegrove

Author

Stephanie Lovegrove had two poems featured in Ruminate's Issue #04, and was so impressed with the magazine that she volunteered to work for them. She served as Ruminate's poetry editor from 2007-2014. Since 2002, she has worked in the book business--at literary magazines, publishers, and bookstores, and as a freelance copyeditor. She holds degrees in English (with a focus on creative writing), classics, and linguistics. She currently lives in Charlottesville, Virginia, where she works in marketing for the University of Virginia Press. Her work has appeared in Gulf Coast, Cream City Review, and Poet Lore, among other journals.



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