The Month Of Love Is Almost Here!

Valentine's day is almost here! And what's more romantic than a love poem? And its time to start writing those beautifully cliché love poems. Then, before you read it to your loved one, submit it! All this month we're going to showcase a whole bunch of love poems. <3

Everyday this month until Valentine's day we're going to showcase the best love poems! 14 days of lovey-dovey poetry! ;) I can't wait to see what you guys submit! 

I hope I get this many valentines ;)

Let's get some inspiration going, shall we? ;) Here's a classic piece by Shakespeare. "Sonnet 18", famously known for it's first line:

Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?
Thou art more lovely and more temperate.
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,
And summer's lease hath all too short a date.
Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,
And often is his gold complexion dimmed;
And every fair from fair sometime declines,
By chance, or nature's changing course, untrimmed;
But thy eternal summer shall not fade,
Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow'st,
Nor shall death brag thou wand'rest in his shade,
When in eternal lines to Time thou grow'st.
     So long as men can breathe, or eyes can see,
     So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.

For hounders of thousands of years, women have always loved being told they were beautiful. And nothing tops eternal beauty. It's so romantic! Let's look at a more recent piece.

This piece is by Carol Ann Duffy. 

"Warming Her Pearls"

Next to my own skin, her pearls. My mistress

bids me wear them, warm them, until evening

when I'll brush her hair. At six, I place them

round her cool, white throat. All day I think of her,











resting in the Yellow Room, contemplating silk

or taffeta, which gown tonight? She fans herself

whilst I work willingly, my slow heat entering

each pearl. Slack on my neck, her rope.











She's beautiful. I dream about her

in my attic bed; picture her dancing

with tall men, puzzled by my faint, persistent scent

beneath her French perfume, her milky stones.











I dust her shoulders with a rabbit's foot,

watch the soft blush seep through her skin

like an indolent sigh. In her looking-glass

my red lips part as though I want to speak.











Full moon. Her carriage brings her home. I see

her every movement in my head.... Undressing,

taking off her jewels, her slim hand reaching

for the case, slipping naked into bed, the way










she always does.... And I lie here awake,

knowing the pearls are cooling even now

in the room where my mistress sleeps. All night

I feel their absence and I burn.















Her poetry gives a fresher,(and dare I say) sexier image to love poetry. Love poems don't have to sound old english and right out of Shakespeare feather pen, your love poems can be whatever you want them to be! 






Hope to see some great poetry in the inbox! :) <3


-Iris