i love you
Creative Commons License photo credit: erin MC hammer

The following three love poems are each written by women which I tend to prefer: The way a woman describes her experience of love is very visceral and nearly always engages the sense of touch in her descriptions, making the visuals of her word painting intensely vivid. It is an expression of the moment of the heart. When a man describes his love, at least in prose, it always seems somehow distant; rather like an intellectual exercise. Perhaps prose is just the way a woman thinks when it comes to love because in prose the heart is given words. When a man loves, his imperative is to show/demonstrate what’s going on in his heart, and to stop and write about it, interrupts the motion of his heart.

The first poem is a gorgeous description of the passion between two lovers and the level of spiritual experience they can have during intimacy. The second one is about being with a great man who loves you, and yes they still exist. As women (if we’re fortunate enough to be with one), we often forget their natures when they choose to be with us, because men like these often hide it when truly in love: They’re afraid they’ll overrun us if they show themselves too much. But this kind of nature can only be held in so long… The third poem is about the near desperation we feel when head over heels in love and in particular when we part - even if it’s only for the night or a few days. Enjoy!

So Beautiful You Are Indeed
by: Irene Rutherford McLeod

So beautiful you are, indeed,
That I am troubled when you come,
And though I crave you for my need,
Your nearness strikes me blind & dumb.

And when you bring your lips to mine
My spirit trembles and escapes,
And you and I are turned divine,
Bereft of our familiar shapes.

And fearfully we tread cold space,
Naked of flesh and winged with flame,
…Until we find us face to face,
Each calling on the other’s name!

The Great Man
by: Eunice Tietjens

I cannot always feel his greatness.
Sometimes he walks beside me, step by step,
And paces slowly in the ways…
The simple wingless ways
That my thoughts tread.
He gossips with me then,
And finds it good;
Not as an eagle might, his great wings folded,
be content
To walk a little, knowing it his choice,
But as a simple man,
My friend.
And I forget.

Then suddenly a call floats down
From the clear airy spaces,
The great keen, lonely heights of being.
And he who was my comrade hears the call
And rises from my side, and soars,
Deep chanting, to the heights.
Then I remember.
And my upward gaze goes with him
And I see
Far off against the sky
The glint of golden sunlight on his wings.

The Taxi
by: Amy Lowell

When I go away from you
The world beats dead
Like a slackened drum.
I call out for you against the jutted stars
And shout into the ridges of the wind.
Streets coming fast,
One after the other,
Wedge you away from me,
And the lamps of the city prick my eyes
So that I can no longer see your face.
Why should I leave you,
To wound myself upon the sharp edges of the night?

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