Poems on dating


When you’re trying to convince someone to go on a date with you. R.“Orpheus, Eurydice, Hermes” by Rilke, translated by Stephen Mitchell She was no longer that woman with blue eyeswho once had echoed through the poet’s songs,no longer the wide couch’s scent and island,and that man’s property no longer. …And your voicecomes back to me through the trees, this wordfor what we couldn’t help but doto each other — a thin cry, unwinding.21.

Anything by Rumi, but this one in particular: Come to the orchard in Spring. When someone's playing hard to get.“Evil” by Langston Hughes Looks like what drives me crazy Don’t have no effect on you—But I’m gonna keep on at it Till it drives you crazy, too.4. When you’re fighting and seeking advice on how to grow together.“On Marriage” by Khalil Gibran Give your hearts, but not into each other’s keeping. And stand together yet not too near together: For the pillars of the temple stand apart, And the oak tree and the cypress grow not in each other’s shadow.13. She was already loosened like long hair,poured out like fallen rain,shared like a limitless supply. And when, abruptly,the god put out his hand to stop her, saying,with sorrow in his voice: He has turned around —,she could not understand, and softly answered Who?

When you’re infatuated and everything feels intense, yet vague and uncertain.let’s live like the light that killsand let’s as silence,because Whirl’s after all:(after me) love, and after you. I shall be brief, but frank, Terse if not curt, aloof, though unswerving—What little we had amounted to nothing. I sit on a sandbank as I scribe this, For tonight the twilit beach is impossibly Gorgeous. No the two of us together Like the last time, but whatever. When the relationship wasn’t meant to be, but the sex was fantastic.“The Word” by Dorianne Laux You called it screwing, what we did nightson the rug in front of the mirror, drapedover the edge of a hotel bed, on balconiesoverlooking the dark hearts of fir treesor a city of flickering lights.

I occasionally feel vague howvague idon’t know tenuous Now-spears and The Then-arrows making doour mouths something red, something tall2. And on the verge of this horizon’s indifference, I watch as a ship slips into the distance. You’dwhisper that word into my earas if it were a thing you could taste —a sliver of fish, a swirl of chocolateon the tongue.

Yet poetry has the capacity to be the most life-changing of the arts. If they would not say Lesbian I could not say pride.