- Feelings. When you look at the person you love, what runs through your mind? Think of words to describe how they make you feel, so you can use them throughout your poem. Even if they make your brain all foggy, write about that!
- Firsts. Everyone loves a bit of nostalgia. Remember how this person first came into your life. Was it love at first sight, or were you totally turned off until you got to know them better? Where were you? What details can you remember about the first time you met/went on a date/kissed? The little things matter, especially in a love poem, so don’t forget about them.
- Comparison. If you’re writing a love poem about someone, chances are they’ve had a pretty big impact on your life. In your poem, compare how your life was before and after this person began playing a role in your life story. Maybe you were going through a rough time and they made it better, or you were always a happy person, but they just made you smile a little wider. Whatever your story, everyone enjoys being told how much they matter, so be sure to let this person know how much they’ve changed your life for the better.
- Tone. Don’t worry about making your poem sound too sappy or romantic. Just be yourself, use your personality, and write about the things that might be a little harder to say out loud. Yeah, it sounds corny, but the best poems are the ones that come from your heart.
- Pattern. When it comes to the format of the poem, creating a rhyme scheme or pattern shouldn’t be the main focus. If a rhyme comes naturally, go for it, but remember that some of the greatest poems don’t rhyme. Sometimes, a sing-song rhyme can take away the heart of a poem because both the writer and the reader pay more attention to how the poem is written, instead of what it’s about. For a love poem, it’s about what you say, not how you say it.
- Spread the Love. No matter who you are or who stole your heart,
- we all love a love poem At Poetree Creations.
- Why not give it some thought.
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When I lay and think, in my bed at night,
the day you’ll arrive, seems nowhere in sight.
I toss and I turn, dreaming of you,
opening my eye’s… checking if my dream came true.
It didn’t, again, and a tear starts to roll,
weeping quietly… my pillow I hold.
Many sleepless nights I’ve prayed for you, my love.
God touched my soul from heaven above
He’s answered my prayers for my bride to be.
I’ve never felt this lucky, God did this for me.
That’s a question I asked each and every night.
He must think your special, Joy, and I know he’s right.
No other has made me feel so complete,
my whole life was lived, just so we could meet.
All these thoughts and more going through my head.
I fall asleep not worrying, but dreaming of you… instead.
Author: David G Teves
When love becomes our answer to our day,
our dreams, our passions, are every way
responsible. We seek new travels when
family makes some sort of sense again.
Each day we walk across same horizons
acting out our world through inspiration.
We live to dream to overcome our fears.
to be led
along safe departures strong with new tears
Please look aside in front and all around
A spiritual reality is found
We are the energy of our sweet lives
break some bread,
cherishing love when anyone arrives.
So now tonight take hands in quiet peace
share love, draw happiness, allow release!
© Thom Amundsen 2014
Happy St George’s Day! Nowadays, it’s not St George’s martyrdom that propelled him to popularity, but the tales of his heroism in slaying dragons and rescuing maidens.
Whilst St George never visited the British Isles, during the Middle Ages he became revered by the English and according to legend fought on their side in the Crusades and the Hundred Years’ War.
Several cities, towns and villages around the country are enthusiastically celebrating St George, so we thought we would bring you some nostalgic photos that might help in a small way remind us all of what makes England so great!
Poem, origin unknown, found in handwritten notes of the late Frank Willmott.Buxom barges drifting,
Outward with the tide,
Outward, onwards, seawrad,
Where buoys and beacons guide.Bound with Grain for Yarmouth,
Ghistong down the Swin,
Hasting, winding, storming,
From Lowerstoft to Kings Lynn.Every port and haven
From Tyne to Cawsand Bay,
Still sees the barges trading
With fresh cargoes every day.Laden deep with sugar,
with barley, sand or coke,
Spritties keep on sailin,
They were built of English oak.But their day is passing,
Fewer with each tide,
Grace old London’s river,
Long may their rare charm abide
YOUR FAVOURITE POEM
SENT IN BY YOU
As I a walk through my garden,
I see wonders to behold,
The beautiful colours of nature,
All these to me unfold.
We all take nature for granted,
For the things we gaze upon,
For the sound of birds on the wing,
For the melodious trill of their song.
Who creates a beautiful garden?
What power surrounds all within,
Who places peace in that garden?
We should know, for it comes from him.
The creator of the universe,
Is instilled within every flower,
Giving out love and harmony,
Giving out compassion and healing power.
So next time you walk in your garden,
Be aware of the things that you see,
For all the things in your garden,
Were created for you and me.
Malcolm G Bradshaw
“I was here first,” said the snowdrop: “look!”
“Not before me!” sang the silver brook.
“Why,” cried the grass, “I’ve been here a week!”
“So have I, dear,” sighed a violet meek.
“Well,” piped a bluebird, “don’t leave me out!
I saw the snow that lay round about.”
“Yes,” chirped a snowbird, “that may be true;
But I’ve seen it all the bleak winter through.”
“I came betimes,” sang the southwind, “I!”
“After me, love!” spake the deep blue sky.
“Who is it cares?” chimed the crickets gay:
“Now you are here, let us hope you’ll stay.”
Whispered the sun, “Lo! the winter’s past:
What does it matter who’s first or last?
Sky, brooks, and flowers, and birdies that sing,
All help to make up the beautiful spring.”
Don’t know what’s been collected
What has been gathered
A connection is being made
A path is laid
Casting and retrieving again
Laden and sparse
More than sufficient
Prudence increases proficience
Longing for the seashore
Smell of salt in the air
Rushes of wind and waves
dancing clouds of frantic seabirds
feasting on a boiling surface
shatters silent glass in dreams
always the mending of the nets
my brethren and I are called to be
comforted one in another
passing time gainfully
a good fisherman always prepares
before heading out to ‘see’
representing more than we ever thought
something so simple could mean
remolded, reshaped, reborn, remade,
in the end diving headfirst into the sea of glass,
in Your arms…
“I Love You, I’ve always Loved You”
The fisherman rests.
(a tender whisper on a gentle breeze from a nearby shore beckons and tear-filled eyes refreshed bask in the glow of the sight)
All in its path
Tree trunk dense
Root and branch
Of all we thought
This side torn
That side blown
Written watching dear friends and unable to help apart from prayer
The “Evacuation of Dunquecue) Dunkirk” was written by a member of the Enniskillen Fusillers, an Irish infantry regiment of the British Army, who participated in the evacuation. The author of the poem wrote it during his recuperation from the war. It given to Iris Fewkes who it turn submitted it to Joyce Mills of Age Concern Library in Leicester, English.
Evacuation of Dunquecue (Dunkirk)
Withdrawal orders had just come through,
Where we were bound for no one knew,
As time past by we heard the talk,
Of our destination being the beach at Dunquecue.
For days and nights on the country wide,
The troops on foot fought side by side,
While on roads in one unending line,
The convoys race against father time.
Hedges and roadside we know its true,
Were strewn with guns and vehicles too,
But no one seemed to think of the loss or gain,
Their thoughts were one, to live and fight again.
The weary trek was oh! so long,
But the allied troops were still in song,
The thought of loved ones there at home,
Gave British tommies no want to roam.
A ruined mass was what we saw,
When at last we reached the Dunquecue Shore,
The blazing docks with their reddish light,
Give guide to see us thought the night,
But what a sight there was in store,
The boys in blue and ships galore,
The Air Force too did play their part
In the Epic of Dunquecue right from the start.
When your world is crashing around you,
When your head is in a mess,
When you take it out of your loved ones,
When you think you know beast.
When you want to hide away from life.
And blame everybody at fault,
When you feel out of control,
That’s when you need to call a halt.
My friend, you are heading for a breakdown,
For your life is out of control,
You need help to correct it,
Before it rips out your soul.
Don’t try to correct it yourself,
You need help from another source,
Allow your doctor to treat you,
So that you can get back on course.
For when you have had your treatment,
Those dark clouds will drift away,
You then will be back to normal,
You then will see the light of day.
The Owl and the Pussy-Cat went to sea In a beautiful pea-green boat, They took some honey, and plenty of money Wrapped up in a five-pound note.
The Owl looked up to the stars above, And sang to a small guitar, “O lovely Pussy, O Pussy, my love, What a beautiful Pussy you are, You are, You are! What a beautiful Pussy you are!” Pussy said to the Owl, “You elegant fowl! How charmingly sweet you sing! O let us be married! too long we have tarried: But what shall we do for a ring?” They sailed away, for a year and a day, To the land where the Bong-tree grows And there in a wood a Piggy-wig stood With a ring at the end of his nose, His nose, His nose, With a ring at the end of his nose.
“Dear Pig, are you willing to sell for one shilling Your ring?” Said the Piggy, “I will.
” So they took it away, and were married next day By the Turkey who lives on the hill.
They dined on mince, and slices of quince, Which they ate with a runcible spoon; And hand in hand, on the edge of the sand, They danced by the light of the moon, The moon, The moon, They danced by the light of the moon.
by Edward Lear
YOUR FAVOURITE POEM
SENT IN BY YOU
I remember me and grandpa and the way we used to fish
It was my childhood fantasy, my one and only wish.
I couldn’t wait to get there, but the ride was very long,
so we all sat back in our car and sang this special song.
You get a line, I’ll get a pole; we all know how it goes I guess
it’s just a song that everybody knows.
Over the hills and though the trees and there it finally is,
a massive structure of steel, the Missouri river bridge.
We cross the bridge slowly you know it’s not real wide,
and every time I’ve crossed that bridge I’ve felt a sense of pride.
The fever’s really got me now with not that far to go,
around the lake I see the boats and then there’s Big-a-low.
Grandma’s probably cooking and making something great,
she always saves a little bit even if we’re late.
The sights are now familiar; my palms begin to sweat,
can’t wait to fish with Grandpa and make our special bet.
So now I’m finally here and I guess it means just this,
that when the morning comes Ill get my fishing wish.
© Randy R. Patterson
Do you hear what I hear?
It is the sound of the common sparrow,
It can be heard the world,
Through fields of sweet corn, cauliflower and marrow.
Do you see what I see?
It is the striking feathers of the proud male peacock,
Preening himself upon a sacred rock.
Do you smell what I smell?
It is the scent of the buddleia flower,
Attracting red admirals with all its power.
Do you taste what I taste?
It is the sweet stem of the evening clover,
Which is found in the fields the whole year over.
Do you feel what I feel?
It is the soft fleece of an infant lamb standing for the very first time.
Come on little fellow if I can do it you can!
Now I must go and meditate upon the dew drenched wheat,
Along with the millipedes, that crawl across my feet.
I think about nature and all the joy it brings,
And how one can use their senses to experience these things.
by Jessica Burton
When lines are drawn
To be objective
Seems an enemy
When pleasing one
When no opinion
Will not do
Which can’t be done
Sides are drawn
Pulls the innocents
(“so you’re decided, this is your choice?”)
Where’d you come from, what’s it to you?
Sorry…sorry I don’t even know you, I didn’t mean to be so rude. I’m just kinda’ upset that’s all. Feels like the whole world is against me..ya’ know.
(“I do know and they are, but they hated me before they hated you”)
I just always feel like I’m drowning.
(“that’s because you are”)
Can’t breathe, can’t fit in, overwhelmed and I can’t seem to shake it.
(“here is a suggestion…”)
Sure, you seem nice, like super nice actually, nice voice anyway?
(“roll over onto your back“)
Sounds strange but I’ll give it a try.
Okay here goes….hey I feel better already.
(“ I knew you would”)
(“tingly all over?”)
Yeah…how’d you know?
(“you even sound better now”)
Who are you anyway, how do you know these things?
(“you’ll learn in due time, that help has arrived”)
I don’t get it, I’ve always felt looked down on, could never seem to fit in anywhere no matter how hard I tried. But not while I’m talking to you, it‘s like I‘ve always known you.
Now I sound strange.
(“you were looked down on and in on in ways you can’t understand right now”)
(“I was leaning over you, extending my hand to you”)
(“I saw your outstretched hand, your fingers a tenuous dance as you fumbled through the darkness of uncertainty“)
(“I sent many to help you but they couldn’t deliver you from your own choices, they sowed seeds in other’s who were ready instead”)
What do you mean ”deliver me?”
Do I look like a pizza to You?
Do you work for fedex, I don’t get it?
I’m not understanding you, I‘m not following what you say you sound just like a “Bible” come to Life but spoken rather than read and just like that book, I can’t get a single thing you are saying.
(Precisely! But you will, you’ve already begun a new journey)
I’m afraid of heights!!
No planes, no flying for me !!
I’m not going anywhere!!
(“I’ll tell you something else, a long time ago someone hurt you. You were but a child then. You were wounded deeply, then lied to. Told you were worthless and you believed it”)
I don’t know you and that’s not something I care to discuss anymore, how’d you know that, who told you ?!
(“he’s called the father of lies, he seized the opportunity while you were blinded and weakened. Kept whispering in your mind…)
(“You are drowning…”)
(“You are drowning…”)
(“But I held you safely in the palm of my hand the whole time“)
Oh Lord… I remember now. I was confused, angry, lost, affected and affecting!
Wandering, stumbling, in the wilderness aimlessly like a wild animal just trying to survive.
(“forty years almost to the day”)
(“you were imprisoned”)
A couple of times just overnight, misdemeanors is all.
(“here is The Truth, but first gird your loins”)
(“now I will allow you to see the Truth”)
Oh no…! That can’t be ?!
That’s not me !!
(“courage…truth can be painful but it will also set you free”)
But… But…. all these years, facedown… In a few inches of water?
(“drowning in tears of self pity to be exact”)
What a fool I’ve been! I feel like my guts were ripped out!
(“that’s because, in a manner of speaking…they were”)
At the time I couldn’t feel a thing, I’m grateful to you for showing me the truth. Though not liking who I was, feeling something now I can’t describe because I’ve never felt it before, not like this…not this real.
(“good…that’s a start”)
(“now, take my hand, stand up and walk”)
(“listen carefully, I have to leave now but I’m going to be sending you some new clothes”)
(“as soon as they arrive, take off the old and put on the new”)
(“burn the old in a fire”)
Okay, I will…promise.
I love you !!
(“I love you too, now then…don’t forget to take off those soggy socks”)
Hey, where’d you go?
Come back please.
It’s dark again…
I’m afraid of the dark don’t go please.
What do you mean?
What soggy socks?
I don’t get it?
I have so many questions, please…please…
Oh no, late for work again, whew strange dreams all night, didn’t sleep well at all.
Time to get up.
No you didn’t !
You did not !
Yes you did !
Bad beagle, go get in your crate…go…right now missy !
I don’t have time for this….
Better go find something to clean this up with, (squeak)….(squishy)…now where’s that (squishy)…(squeak)…(squeak)…mop?
I better get these noisy “soggy socks” off first.
Naaaah… Who would believe it if I told them anyway?
With all my heart.