These love poems are practically guaranteed to add a little extra zing and romance to your world. Would you like a funny poem for your valentine or a romantic poem for your wedding? Are you seeking that poem to remind you what true love is (or isn’t) all about? If so, you’re likely to find exactly what you need right here. So don’t be shy. Simply email me with a request. (And please, don’t forget to include full copyright information on every copy made. For internet use, a link back to the poem on this website is also required.)
FINDING THE POEM YOU WANT: As you scroll through this section, read each snippet sample (usually the first four lines) to get a feel for the poem. When you find something you like, click “CONTINUE READING” to view the entire poem.
Age is the proof of the pudding in love.
I know for a fact this is true.
The years are the heat and the steam and the pressure
that set well or turn into glue.
Warm sock, you’re not…nor yet
a fuzzy slipper, but still you
found a zipper on my heart.
Sailing this sleek, silver ship
across an ocean of mustard, scrub oak
and California wildflowers;
I can almost feel the wind in my face,
the sea spray on my cheeks,
the ballast in my sails.
image by Olga Tutunaru on UnsplashI am the unwieldy book
you would rather not read
that opened up well but then
took a late turn for the worse.
And now, duty bound, you cannot
simply put me down firmly.
Compelled, you must finish your start,
every chapter and verse.
You say your face is not quite right.
Your haircut is all wrong.
Your chin goes in. Your jaw goes out.
Your nose is far too long.
Sometimes
for no good reason
after a late meeting
or before the jogathon
image by Natalie Heathcoat on UnsplashYou say I’m “always right.” Go get the rope!
Slap me in chains and throw away the key.
Charge me with leading you too forcefully,
your mind impelled up my unyielding slope
(not even time to scan your horoscope),
bowled over by the power that is me.
How rather omnipotent I must be
to move another so, against his will
and quite without design, perfect the skill
of bringing forth blameless impotency.
However do I do it? All must bow
in deference to the mighty sword I wield.
And yet, one question, if you will allow…
Are you excused? Did you not choose to yield?
There once was a woman, grown older,
whose man said her love should be bolder:
“In a romantic sense,
your libido’s past tense.”
His reward? The bold, icy cold shoulder.