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“I can write the saddest poem of all tonight.
Write, for instance: "The night is full of stars,
and the stars, blue, shiver in the distance."
The night wind whirls in the sky and sings.
I can write the saddest poem of all tonight.
I loved her, and sometimes she loved me too.
On nights like this, I held her in my arms.
I kissed her so many times under the infinite sky.
She loved me, sometimes I loved her.
How could I not have loved her large, still eyes?
I can write the saddest poem of all tonight.
To think I don't have her. To feel that I've lost her.
To hear the immense night, more immense without her.
And the poem falls to the soul as dew to grass.
What does it matter that my love couldn't keep her.
The night is full of stars and she is not with me.
That's all. Far away, someone sings. Far away.
My soul is lost without her.
As if to bring her near, my eyes search for her.
My heart searches for her and she is not with me.
The same night that whitens the same trees.
We, we who were, we are the same no longer.
I no longer love her, true, but how much I loved her.
My voice searched the wind to touch her ear.
Someone else's. She will be someone else's. As she once
belonged to my kisses.
Her voice, her light body. Her infinite eyes.
I no longer love her, true, but perhaps I love her.
Love is so short and oblivion so long.
Because on nights like this I held her in my arms,
my soul is lost without her.
Although this may be the last pain she causes me,
and this may be the last poem I write for her.”
―
Write, for instance: "The night is full of stars,
and the stars, blue, shiver in the distance."
The night wind whirls in the sky and sings.
I can write the saddest poem of all tonight.
I loved her, and sometimes she loved me too.
On nights like this, I held her in my arms.
I kissed her so many times under the infinite sky.
She loved me, sometimes I loved her.
How could I not have loved her large, still eyes?
I can write the saddest poem of all tonight.
To think I don't have her. To feel that I've lost her.
To hear the immense night, more immense without her.
And the poem falls to the soul as dew to grass.
What does it matter that my love couldn't keep her.
The night is full of stars and she is not with me.
That's all. Far away, someone sings. Far away.
My soul is lost without her.
As if to bring her near, my eyes search for her.
My heart searches for her and she is not with me.
The same night that whitens the same trees.
We, we who were, we are the same no longer.
I no longer love her, true, but how much I loved her.
My voice searched the wind to touch her ear.
Someone else's. She will be someone else's. As she once
belonged to my kisses.
Her voice, her light body. Her infinite eyes.
I no longer love her, true, but perhaps I love her.
Love is so short and oblivion so long.
Because on nights like this I held her in my arms,
my soul is lost without her.
Although this may be the last pain she causes me,
and this may be the last poem I write for her.”
―
“Love reciprocated out of pure genuine intent is true love.”
―
―
“You are beautiful. Yes, you are beautiful. You are beautiful in all your inimitable ways. You are beautiful in all your charming ways. You are beautiful in all your unique ways. Yes you are beautiful! You are beautiful! You are beautiful in all your inimitable ways. You are beautiful in spite of what they call as your flaws, quirks, and weirdness. You are beautiful in all your unique ways. Don't believe them who say you are not beautiful. They are insecure people who say you are not beautiful! Yes you are beautiful! You are magical because of all your flaws, quirks, and weirdness! Yes you are beautiful in your own unique way. Your imperfections make you unique and beautiful! Yes you are beautiful! You are uniquely beautiful! You are beautiful in your magical way!”
―
―
“Those sweet lips. My, oh my, I could kiss those lips all night long.
Good things come to those who wait.”
― The Intern
Good things come to those who wait.”
― The Intern
“I love you now for what we've already shared, and I love you now in anticipation of all that's to come.”
― Nights in Rodanthe
― Nights in Rodanthe
¡ POETRY !
— 22500 members
— last activity Aug 31, 2026 04:34PM
No pretensions: just poetry. Stop by, recommend books, offer up poems (excerpted), tempt us, taunt us, tell us what to read and where to go (to read ...more
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