love poems for her

Combed by the cold seas, Bering and Pacific,
These are the exile islands of the mind.
All the charts and history you can muster
Will not make them real as the fog is real
Or crystal as a certain hour is clear
if you can wait.

Write to me often, darling.

Thrown up hurriedly for a late-crossing people,
These are unsettled mountains where I walk,
They dance at the center still and spout new ash;
The teeming salmon remember in their courses
When they were not, and the winds run into the hills

O sufferers from intense nervous tension!
Listen, there's a love land nearby.
Here, thick smoke has screened all scenes.
From there, the sky of immortality may
be seen most clearly.
Here you can't catch your own speech.
Even Divine breath is audible over there.

“Even far, I’m thy very near.
This always keep in the heart, My Dear!
Moon and Lily both are
from each other, away very far.
Still flows all the while
their love ever-juvenile.
For a loving couple, see,
the distance may whatever be,
hers is he
and his is she.”

[ From Poet Upendra Bhanja’s Oriya Kā vya ‘Prema-Sudhā nidhi’ (Chapter-XIV) , Translated by: Dr. Harekrishna Meher ]

Love is...

Love is feeling cold in the back of vans

Love is a fanclub with only two fans

Love is walking holding paintstained hands

Love is.

Love is fish and chips on winter nights

Love is blankets full of strange delights

Love is when you don't put out the light

Love is

Love is the presents in Christmas shops

Love is when you're feeling Top of the Pops

Love is what happens when the music stops

Love is

Everything other than love for the most beautiful God
though it be sugar- eating.
What is agony of the spirit?
To advance toward death without seizing
hold of the Water of Life.

A VIEWLESS thing is the wind,
But its strength is mightier far
Than a phalanxed host in battle line,
Than the limbs of a Samson are.

And a viewless thing is Love,
And a name that vanisheth;
But her strength is the wind’s wild strength above,
For she conquers shame and Death.

Love is something secret-
you know I know.
It does not let
me go
one inch far from you.
It is beautiful but it has no hue.

Love is reckless; not reason.
Reason seeks a profit.
Love comes on strong,
consuming herself, unabashed.

Yet, in the midst of suffering,
Love proceeds like a millstone,
hard surfaced and straightforward.

Having died of self-interest,
she risks everything and asks for nothing.
Love gambles away every gift God bestows.

Without cause God gave us Being;
without cause, give it back again.

Me, a poor girl, and he, a poor fella,
Love is our life
Is love that comes in handy
On the road of joy n' strife

Be he near or be he far,
The apple of mine eyes is he!
I melt when I see his darling face,
He's my precious jewelry!

Winter days or summer,
His body is warm to touch,
When I have him near me
I wear *him* like robes n' such

The gifts he has bestowed on me

Love is not all: it is not meat nor drink
Nor slumber nor a roof against the rain;
Nor yet a floating spar to men that sink
And rise and sink and rise and sink again;
Love can not fill the thickened lung with breath,
Nor clean the blood, nor set the fractured bone;
Yet many a man is making friends with death
Even as I speak, for lack of love alone.
It well may be that in a difficult hour,
Pinned down by pain and moaning for release,
Or nagged by want past resolution's power,