These Love Sonnet poems are examples of Sonnet poems about Love. These are the best examples of Love Sonnet poems written by international PoetrySoup poets
Avenge me not, for death has been a friend
and anger ill befits love's gentle wine.
All lovers true or not, must part, ascend:
rise, or fall, as life's trials their paths assign.
Still as bone, white as winter's snow my skin
by candle light, one can almost see inside.
My hair a gossamer halo, so thin,
my eyes, my blue eyes, still contain the tide.
I am your fair Persephone, your wife, bride,
and soon I will return to you Hades
to rise born on cherry blossom tides;
when in the earth, I can no longer bide.
Bless gentle Thanatos for his death sublime
and Hypnos, as in sleep, I do recline.
My love is like a worker's gloves grown old.
His hands are leather, roughened now with age
and years of work in weather hot and cold,
yet through the many years, he has grown sage. . .
My love is like a builder's pair of boots.
He's dusty and fatigued and still he walks
while trailing mud, but now his attributes
shine through despite life's many stumbling blocks.
My love is like a pair of jeans much worn,
a pair of socks with holes that have stayed warm.
Though time and all the trials he has borne
have left him frayed, he wishes no one harm.
To write a beaming sonnet would not do,
but threadbare love (in some ways) bests the new.
For PD's "first love poem~ (on the soup) Poetry Contest"
Written about a month after I came to Soup in the new year
The day I left Madrid, I waved goodbye
to someone dear to me. I still can see
his dark brown eyes that could not tell a lie,
those same eyes I’d beheld so tenderly
each day when he would show up at my door.
Where is my friend Eduardo, whom I left
behind so long ago and never more
would see again? I know he was bereft
from letters that he sent, and I replied
that we would meet again. I could not know
how wrong I was or if he ever cried
for me. How easily I let him go!
How innocent and beautiful was he!
Unbearable the beauty of my memory.
For the Heart felt poem Poetry Contest of Royal Trevino
I stand here by the lakeshore, and I smell
fresh honeysuckle as I kiss the rain.
A memory that I cannot curtail
wafts bitter sweetly to me, and again
it’s May. . . the night you came to me by moonlight.
The air was permeated by perfume
from blossoms colored innocently white.
But now it’s summer; yellow is each bloom.
When plump upon the vines, sweet berries, red,
will be swooped up by birds and carried away.
I stoop to touch a stem. How soon has fled
my flowered youth, and now this day chilled grey,
I bow in downpour like the vines bent low
while raindrops turn to tears and - glistening - flow.
For the Contest of Gail Doyle
Above a cloud, in soundless, still tumescence,
a goddess rests; below her is the sea.
A strip of it is rippling luminescence,
a path of light in night’s serenity.
A solitary boat now passes through
the lane of radiance. One man regards
the sky and ocean, both a cobalt blue,
and ponders inspiration of the bards.
For what could man want more than such as this -
-the tranquilness of dark in Luna’s glow!
At times he longs to taste a woman’s kiss
though he embraced this life so long ago. . .
His gaze is fixed on her who shines above.
He chose the sea. . . and moon became his love.
the moon- old/new poemsPoetry Contest
My love for you I carry in my heart
A growing ache, albeit tender, sweet
For from my body you are miles apart
My words like tender kisses sent to greet
Each letter and each thought with love is tied
Poetic lines immersed in passion’s hue
The secrets of your heart in them confide
My messengers of love sent out to you
Dear heart, be sure to read between the lines
At times a message stronger there you’ll find
Wild fantasies encrypted in these signs
My paradise you’ll enter with your mind
Who dares to doubt the written face of love
Has never flown on words to heights above
Eileen Manassian Ghali
(This is about an Irish/Celtic legend:
Oenghus & Caer)
A hundred-fifty swans in dancing light
of sun were shimmering upon the lake
when Oenghus, God of Love, beheld the sight
and called to her who made his poor heart ache,
“You haunt my dreams. I die for love of you!”
With her reply, the cloak that he had on
changed into soft white wings, for love was true.
And thus it was he joined her as a swan.
How great their joy when Oenghus met his mate,
the fair Caer, there in the gleaming throng.
Imagine knowing bliss to be your fate!
In unison, they sang a wondrous song.
It sweetly lulled all listening to sleep,
a melody their hearts would ever keep.
The falling raindrops dance, a bearing wall
retains his memories of years before,
constructing solitude, invite his soul
and form continuum, above to soar.
Reminding paragon among beach plum,
intently they behold, when words indite,
a skyward calling are the raindrops' thrum,
the mirroring of stares and souls' invite.
And as the raindrops dance around and jump
belike she comes, 'mid silences aboard
foreshadowing the rainfall drops that thump,
their night defines again the winds' accord.
Her grandness in the mistle's waving forms
a solemn cause became of diamond storms.
© 06-15-2013, G. Venetopoulos
Press not to flaming lips your tepid kiss
Touch not this burning form with hands of ice
A lukewarm love can never bring to bliss
Nor will indifferent love for me suffice
Seek not with obligation to appease
Perfunctory in making love to me
Disdain is what I feel for “gifts” as these
Tis better far, my dear, to let me be
For if you not assess my heart aright
And think me one to faint with weak caress
You’ve not been seared by passion’s burning might
Nor tasted honeyed dreams that I undress
Hope not to bed me with halfhearted plea
With love obsessive, take a hold of me
Eileen Manassian Ghali
A yearning for affection and romance
can cause one’s getting scorched by passions’ flame.
Love blooms if it is given a fair chance,
but some attempt to play the scoundrel’s game!
A tender soul can be bamboozled by
the man who has an inner soul of ice.
The love that he professes is his lie,
and cherishing himself alone - his vice.
The one he lured will struggle to maintain
her doomed relationship with him; she’s torn!
The taste of love once sweet turns into pain,
for what she offers is returned with scorn.
Abominations always will exist.
Take care one's not a scoundrel you have kissed!
For Dictionary fun....#1...Delilah's Words! Poetry Contest