Love Abc Poems | Examples
These Love Abc poems are examples of Abc poems about Love. These are the best examples of Abc Love poems written by international poets.
A sonnet to a friend
Lately, every evening, I listen to music on
short clips on the internet
I have not been taking this art seriously
busy as I have been composing unwilling words
trying to create art
How wrong I was not to hear
It is all there, beautiful humanity
in classical form or popular
Suddenly, as my world is coming to an end
the beauty I have missed by not listening to
the love expressed in an instrument or in
A human voice makes me long for more years
The Burden of Youth
She was seventeen, and her boyfriend had left her
Life is more intense when you are young, she wanted to commit
Suicide so he could see how much he loved her.
Filled her rucksack with stones and waded into the bay, but
The water was low only to her chest when she reached the other side
Besides, she was glad to be alive.
She met a young man also unlucky in love, who took her rucksack
Filled more stones into it and waded into the sea, but now there was
High tide and the young man disappeared under the sea.
A few seagulls shrieked in the otherwise silent area as the girl waited for the bus.
To take her back to town, block out unpleasant thoughts, she said aloud.
My father is a communist, the bus driver who was a fascist stopped
Pulled out his gun and shot her dead, and the women on an outing clapped.
This was her father letting the red flag fly in the street of Utopia.
What music can do
Last night, all night, I listened to music
and my heart cried not in sorrow but
It flew away and soared in the beauty
of the human voice
No. I was not there in person, but that
Didn't matter; it was about the beauty
of us, yes, we are a great race, so
Why the hatred that is on those
who hate to hear our jubilant voice
I'm a poet dreaming that I once could
Write a poem bringing humanity into
a circle of love
The Breakup
How cruel I was
cold shoulder against love
no reconciliation
her heart was as cold
as mine
The night was endless
The day saved by a dog
I had some news beginning
but without her
She was not a part
It ended fairly
She had a home, but not
near
My aloneness was great
the dog and I, in the forest
unruffled by reality
Eating lunch in a beautiful
café, she came in and I
desired her greatly
I was in love, wrote hot
poems nothing could
ever go wrong
We know, life is perfect
I had tiered her out;
She wanted to be free
Freedom is a must, but
When freedom hurts those
We love, we have failed
I look at my old hand
Blotches of liver spots, slow-running blood vessels
Delivering old blood so I can fold my hands
Once they caressed a woman`s body, who moaned
And my hands were firm
Women used to see me and smile, but now I walk
The earth unobserved and words become a long silence.
If I tell you how much I miss making love
to sit in the park with a girl and see the moon while
smoking cigarettes, inhaling its promise of love to come
The aroma of her hair, the smoothness of her thighs
to kiss her libido and drink her sweet water, her legs
Apart, she has given herself to me.
Asleep, enfolded we are, tomorrow is far away.
My old hands remember so much, I bow my head and try
to inhale from my hands what once was
It is all so hopeless, and soon enough I will be dead.
A Leonine Moment (2003)
Yellow lion teeth like petals of love
I picked the green savannah grass,
It had just stopped raining and pearls,
as a glass bead around a cub's neck,
glinted in the sun that had been hiding
behind rain pregnant clouds, thunder
and lightning; far away, I heard
A lion's roar, inconsolable was its loss.
We are not cynical
She had been married once or twice and lived among
the rich, that was what happened to air hostesses when
there was a frisson about this job.
Her last husband came from Amsterdam, a doyen of
the fur trade, elegantly dressed, and a walking stick
With a stick, one assumes he was quite elderly.
He had bought her a flat with many rooms, too many
one of lesser background would think, then to her
surprise, he suddenly died
So what was a girl to do, sitting with a flat not all
paid for, sensibly, she rented out the flat to people
Who could pay and keep the heating on come winter
Then she met her final man just as her legs were
getting tired, he would do, she thought he had a car
and doesn't bother about a high-flying life
Thus, a love story blossomed, if not a lady and a trap
Yet, a love story of a sort, he needs her to do the talking
So he can sit in his room and write
To love your enemy
I should not say this, but there is no way to hide
I had a wonderful childhood when our country was
at war and occupied the mighty German army
walked in and out of an army barracks, riding on their
enormous horses, dark chocolate, drinking morning milk
until peace broke out, and it was back
to stark poverty that felt as if the daylight had been
switched off by an unseen hand
Headlong into communism, almost a humorous, but
That, too, had its sell-by date, and a cold war began
As seamen, we were in demand moving American
made gods around them had moved their industry
abroad and only exported wars
Once upon a time, I loved the USA, and I still have a pair
Of the jeans bought in New York, the jeans have shrunk
But I keep them as a memory of a glorious past
The Pleasure Remembered.
I saw her in a cafe yesterday; years had not been kind to her
her hair was matted, her skin was dry, and her lips were a sullen grimace,
not quite hiding her miss- coloured teeth.
Once, we slept entwined. I kissed the body and often burrowed
my head in her honey pot and drank her love juice like divine nectar.
She was sitting there, a lonely woman, thinking of her youth,
lost in thought, and her tea was getting cold.
It made me think of the nature of love; there must be a physical
Attraction first, loving the person comes later.
If I met her for the first time today, there would be no physical
attraction, but perhaps she would have had something interesting
to say. I just heard her cooing and sexual rapture.
The thought of sleeping with now was depressing, and for doing
that...no. But we did fly on wings of passion too high for us, and
we burst into flames, only ashes left.
She looked around but didn´t
Recognize me, why should she
A fat, bald man reading a paper?
The first attempt
This is the first poem I try not to think about.
It is like crossing the plateau of Alentejo
I see the tarmac road that stretches miles ahead
must follow the lines of the road
or, fall off and sink into oblivion
Poetry is not unlike arithmetic; using words instead
of numbers
The hope is that the writing has an inner logic
That defies jumbled words
The instrument has a hidden note that tells us
That two is not four
I try telling you what I hear, it is easy, our obligation
to love our fellow beings
This request can be obtained by honest feelings
The promise
A friend of mine died, and I had promised to
Take his ashes up to a hill and strew them there
Then make robust love to his wife
His wife sat by his bedside and agreed
We climbed the mountain and gave his ashes to the wind
Then we had lunch at a fine café, talking
about what a great friend he was
Driving to my house, we became a bit silent
In the house, we drank some more, and I knew that
I could not get an ********, nevertheless
We tried to honor his wishes; we failed utterly
She had stomach cramps, and I had no ********
We had both drunk a lot of wine for this
purpose fell asleep
In the morning, we drank coffee, and I drove her
to her house, and we are best friends forever
I think his plan worked
Oddballs in New York
The strange people who want to live
until they are 200 years old and, if possible, forever.
Needless to say, these people are also rich
I saw the leader of the odd people, who tells us
He goes to bed at eight and rises at five
shift workers to have a similar routine, not they
wish to be a shift worker forever
The leader and his follower do not laugh as
Laughter might upset the blood and stomach
That has to be at ease at all times
Of course, they have no religion as they try to
outlive good and miracles
It is a pity that people should love and live now
Do not wait for an uncertain future
Time's little sister
She is so very young time has been around
for eons, his beginning forgotten
in the haze of no time
Yet, she was there to remember when time was kind
when roses grew, when people fell in love
Children's happy voices, the birth of nations and the end
of horrid regimes
Time is a brute, takes no interest in what is good or bad
carries without reason or regards
but his little sister is there to help people to remember
the world is full of wonders
A film star
It was not her creamy body that caught
My attention, nothing unusual about it
Curvaceous, yes but going soft, it was
Here eyes, in a blink they were blue, green
Or brown, depending on her mood that
Changed faster than traffic lights on
Sunset Boulevard
Between laughter, pain and suspicion
I could see her soul and wide-open eyes
They killed her slowly the famous men
Wouldn’t let her grow up a dumb blond
Forever
I could have made her happy, but when
I found the courage to ring her doorbell
Marilyn wasn’t around anymore.
Zen
Love is
A gold coin
That never rust
After the concert
Now, in the afternoon of my life
My thoughts are about love and romance
These pesky things are disturbing
My tough exterior makes me soft and weepy
When no one looked is now in front and
Naked I appear; yes, you old fool
Words of love and music for the heart
Make me cry and loosen the knot of old
Resentment tells me nothing matters
Except loving someone and not being afraid
Love is the freedom that gladdens the
Tired heart and cleanses the dust that fell
On wisdom and truth