I'm not much for romance, but here's an attempt or three at writing a love poem. One to a dream, one to a lover far away, and one all too present.
Against Reality
Broken by birdsong, abashed by the lark,
Shall the sun shut down, so surely, my dreams?
Never to notice, so novice the wretch,
Seedlings of stories ascend from the ash?
Let not the light mark the last of our meetings!
In dreams, our condition (though dismal in truth)
Will soar past restrictions of spiritless flesh
And bring in a bounty; unbearable joy
In fiction I find you, though facts be unkind
In dreams you adore me, by day you are gone
My mind be my master – what matters the world?
– Kell Willsen
The Inadequacy of Language
Can any words describe my dear?
What depths within, what grace without,
When love-in-action makes it clear
That words cannot be set about.
But words are all I have, so please,
Accept the love poured into these,
Forgive that I must tell, not show it,
Your distant, yet devoted, poet.
– Kell Willsen
Pretty
Oh, what a pretty thing is love!
And so are you.
As pretty as a collared dove
Oh, what a pretty thing is love!
Reminds me of
That blasted bird’s non-stop “hoo-hoo”
Oh, what a pretty thing is love!
And so are you.
– Kell Willsen