Best Courtship Poems | Poetry
Below are the all-time best Courtship poems written by Poets on PoetrySoup. These top poems in list format are the best examples of courtship poems written by PoetrySoup members
Search for Courtship poems, articles about Courtship poems, poetry blogs, or anything else Courtship poem related using the PoetrySoup search engine at the top of the page.
New Courtship Poems
Don't stop! The most popular and best Courtship poems are below this new poems list.
The Courtship of Lacey and Jakey
by DeBole, Gail
by Connell, Carol
Caravan Of Courtship
by Bordner, Justin
Courtship of the Beguiled
by williams, colin mitchell
An Irish Courtship
by Harris, Steve
Courtship of Poetry
by Zerlaut, Jesse
by Dutt, Dev
by ALLISON, JAN
by Miles, Julian
by Poteet, Reason A.
View all new Courtship Poems
The Best Courtship Poems
On cold evenings
Surrounded by friends
I could stay up forever
From the blackness
Feeling that I could float upward
And walk with the stars
On their lonely journey
There was a girl
I was with then
When I first saw her
I wanted to feel her softness
Her breathe on my cheek
Brushing against my thigh
When I held her close
And even closer
I wanted her
To say she loved me.
Had a perfect balance
Teasing and challenge
A subtle change
That I never understood
The closer we became
The more anger
And resentment followed
When she smiled I was envious
When I laughed she was angry
We broke up
We were young
It was my fault
Or blame it on the times we lived in.
Outside my room
In a long and empty hallway
And like an undeliverable letter
A message scrawled
To no one in particular
Haunting visions are
Returned to me
The slenderness of her waist
The way she arched her back
The touch of her hand
The way she kissed
I feel her presence
Yes, I relive all that.
Copyright © Edmund Siejka | Year Posted 2009
Momentary lapses of shyness
within pretentiousness the size of a non-la-hat
offering shade from your sweltering Sun,
confused the boy still residing beneath an exterior
of brashness. A wooing of rose or lotus petals?
Did she not enjoy such frivolity? Wot of a bard
letting words slide through the air like silk,
for I didn't possess such romantic poetry.
No, I embarked upon a journey of false-heroism,
took a bullet, figured it to shape me into a man.
I showed off the wound, blood soaking through the bandages -
you seemed far from impressed by this display of stupidity.
Yet you played coy,
bending over, letting sunlight play through a thin summer dress,
highlighting inner thighs, lines arching up into a dome of dizzy-delirium
so sensual it almost appeared sinful.
At night you'd undress before a naked window,
letting shadows flirt across moonlit dew.
It was all I could do to keep eyes averted,
instead, living on dreams of unwrapping gifts
under the influence of feverish waves,
even though I never forgot to take quinine.
And after all the games,
I had only to stay still long enough for you to complete another sketch,
take its lines, breathe together a new poem,
unleashing torrents of words into my ear.
A funny sort of unconventional, tactile courtship.
You wanted me to listen, to test my patience,
and once your head was emptied out,
heat arose from the bloom, enveloping me in soft petals,
vanquishing my fever, with a different feverish embrace.
Your eyes almost felled me with their complexities
of virginal innocence and a whorish lust. The thrusts,
lips and fingers, the blended push-pull of rhythm and wild abandon
caused me to lose myself long enough,
to find your soul drifting alongside my own,
amongst the stars that had always been shining.
Amongst the light already written before our birth.
June 2nd, 2012
Copyright © Chris D. Aechtner | Year Posted 2012
When the Flowers of Youth Fell
Winter stayed late that year
courting Spring with a fury.
Beautiful gifts of snow
and dazzling ice, he gave her.
It was during such courtship
I found myself lost -- adrift
in a place that once was ....
decades from this century.
Where mud and blood held hands
beneath duty and honour
and kindred flowers fell
to sounds of bugle and drum.
Smoke arose through Spring's tears.
Images of Blue and Grey
pilfered my breath as cannons
rained thunder upon the brave.
How was this happening?
This was not where I belonged!
My time was not this place
and I wanted to go home.
Where Winter courted Spring
and snowmen fell -- not flowers --
upon the muddy ground
as snow reigned upon the brave.
The smell of gun powder
danced about my head and nose
like spirits for the faint --
arousing life ... far from home.
"Get down! Get down! Get down!"
The half-crazed voice plunged me
into the mud and blood
and I lay frozen in fear
beneath his weight ... and the cold.
So cold, no hearts were beating,
no breaths were being drawn,
just the smell of sweat and blood.
The smell of rain and death.
Clutched tightly in his pale fist
a tattered blood-stained note
bore the words, "Please ... for
I tried but could not scream.
And, I felt daylight passing ....
As shadows took the brave,
Winter's folly tamed sweet Spring
with final coats of snow ....
and snowmen fell -- not flowers.
Copyright © Deborah Burch | Year Posted 2013
This beautiful journey begins
From a courtship routine
The male perch themselves on leaves
And create a glorious scene
Waiting for a female
Just to fly on by
Now he has his chance
But, she’ll be the one to decide
The male needs to find out
Whether she’s been fertilised
If she’s already pregnant
He’s soon going to realise
She’ll release a powerful chemical
Which is called ‘pheromone ‘
That tells him she’s unavailable
So he might have to fly and roam
Soon after they have mated
She looks for a place to lay
Laying her tiny eggs
Mostly oval in shape
She can lay two hundred or more
Just in a single day
But she needs to find a milkweed
On this beautiful sun spring day
The tiny little caterpillars
Start to grow inside
Eggs no bigger that a pin heads
And thats no word of a lie
They feed on the milkweed
And the enzymes in the egg
Until these little caterpillars
Start growing up really big
Now when they hatch
From their eggs
They will eat and eat and eat
Eating up everything
Of those milkweed leaves
They will start expanding
Getting bigger and bigger
Shedding their skin several times
Now that is really clever
Then they just stop eating
And know their time has come
For their stunning transformation
Four stages have begun
They’re find a special twig or leaf
And hang them-selves upside down
Then spin a silky cocoon
Where they won’t be found
It’s called metamorphosis
Turned into a shiny chrysalis
Inside the caterpillars’ changing
Into a beautiful butterfly
It dissolves itself into a soup
That’s truly organised
Inside a process is taking place
It’s forming disc’s, a body, a face
This wonder of nature you can see
When they emerge victoriously
This transition takes some time
For the birth of an exquisite butterfly
One of nature’s beautiful scenes
Celebrating new birth in spring
The reproduction of a butterfly
A remarkable cycle, that does not die
© Copyright KC.Leake
6th April 2015
All Rights Reserved
Copyright © kevin leake | Year Posted 2015
The first time, I saw my love it was a moment in time,
It was a spiritual experience and I was swept away;
I abandoned myself to this perfect head-spinning love,
Obsessive musings, like an addict with mood swings.
It was more than his physical attractiveness for me,
I was lost in a dream of a forever, ever beautiful love;
Falling for him was like falling into a crystal clear stream,
I dreamed again and again of our precious moments.
I was an emotional wreck, who could not sleep or even eat,
My heart beat faster when he was even just talking;
When we were apart, I was full of longing and anxiety,
Falling in love is very bizarre, it creeps up magically.
Soon our lifes were entwined and we were deeply bonded,
Coated with desire, respect and a genuine courtship;
I let go of expectations and overlooked all his negative,
He was my lover, my friend and my companion always.
We never crowded each other, we both had an outside life,
With our own interests and friends, our eyes never roamed;
Sadly, we buried a child on our journey and that made us stronger,
He took this weeping girl that was me and I was healed.
Then, the unimaginable happened, my love was taken away,
Another path was written for him and I was left far behind;
I only find my love down a winding path in a place of tears,
His name engraved in cold stone for all of eternity.
But, my love for him endures and will never, ever dissipate,
Our bond is endless, and I know he waits beyond the clouds;
It is a love that even death cannot destroy, and it will go on and on,
And in my dreams, he lives still, quiet, gentle and strong.
September 28, 2015
Submitted to the contest, 101 In A Row - 6
Written for the contest, Falling in Love,
sponsor, Aiyah de Torres
Copyright © Broken Wings | Year Posted 2015
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wtpPcmLKRFU Dancing Bird
Yesterday, I saw a shadow dart across my keyboard.
When I turned to look outside the window,
I spied upon a sparrow playing in the sun.
He was dancing in dramatic fashion
Across the shrubbery that was his home.
I could tell it was a male by his markings.
He was busy with his boasting, and proud.
No longer a fledge, he fluffed his feathers
To parade his prowess to all that might adore him.
Then, he pivoted into a pirouette, and pranced
Most skillfully across the length of a branch
And launched himself into flight.
Today, the sounds of birds cackling and chirping
Inside the shrubbery drew me to the window.
I could see three sparrows engaging in some fun and frolic.
Perhaps it was some flirtatious mating ceremony.
While most sparrows do look alike,
I’m sure that one of them was the dancing bird
I’d seen the day before. I watched briefly and smiled,
Remembering my own courtship and rivals
Who would fancy my choice as their own.
I returned to the monitor and before I could begin
My work, there was a loud thud upon the glass.
I gazed outside and there upon the ground was a small hawk
Clutching the dancer in his talons.
Tomorrow, this bird will not dance.
He will not sing or court another.
And as sparrows are many,
I will no doubt find another to enjoy from this vantage.
I chide myself for failing to warn him of the danger.
I was too busy with my own enjoyment to notice.
Now, I close my eyes and reconstruct those moments
As I attempt to resurrect the dancing bird,
And preserve him....forever.
Copyright © Ray Dillard | Year Posted 2010
I wrestle with my words in aimlessness when I write.
Poetry is a relationship to me, it's a troubled courtship.
I can't come to reasonable reform in words on the spot..
but rather seek intimacy with my thoughts in attempt.
The two of us, man and his romantic notions,
carelessly Laid into tousled affections on a page.
I love her, and the page, she spurns me willfully.
I love her, and grasp in hopelessness to understand her.
I give my undivided attention, my eyes wander her form.
I've sought shamelessly to appease her whispered desires.
But she is a selfish lover, asking for more than can be given.
She, the playful counterpart in a field of rationality, often eludes me.
Copyright © Jesse Zerlaut | Year Posted 2016
My Only Flame
Love, like fire, is all-consuming,
And forever should be blooming.
Endless courtship is not a game.
As we watch each year’s seasons turn,
My torch for you will ever burn.
No regrets giving you my name.
You always will my soul inspire,
Forever be my one desire--
My first and last and only flame.
Originally posted in June 2014
Copyright © Mark J. Halliday | Year Posted 2014
Star-crossed lovers? Not even close
The two were brought together at first sight, it seemed no future
Came from different families. One with an alcoholic mother. The other, never even saw a glimpse of his father.
The tale of two, both had only one pursue.
The feeling of gentle, soft, light, addictive emotion.
None had no clear dreams of tomorrow.
The nights are filled with courtship, a chase to impress the other.
One moment hot, one moment cold, the rest, just right.
Like a ripping mango, once green, now grew shades of yellow.
The days came, after one another. Filled with tears both of melancholy and joy.
Trials after trials, the tests made them tougher, stronger, milder.
Fights came about, shouts, screams, pure disaster.
Struggles were like winter. A way to make them closer, together, sharing warm laughter.
From there, the fruit of their shared endeavors resulted in four successors.
Each one varies, much like the seasons.
Yet all dream of creating presents to give to their creators.
Time ages all. Time heals it all. Time makes it all.
The two continues to smile together.
Reminiscing the past, revisiting memories that lasts.
They both continue to live, only to paint a better picture.
Time creates it all. Time tells it all. Time knows it all.
When will the two fall? When will it all dull?
Together, the two will awaken, the two will never be broken, the two will happen.
Copyright © Jesson Rata | Year Posted 2013
He worked at the local newspaper office.
I worked for his employer’s wife as a mother’s helper.
He had served his apprenticeship
and was now a full fledged printer
earning a magnificent sum of eight dollars a week.
My wages were three dollars per week.
Mrs. Miller found reasons for sending
me to the office frequently
and he was easy to talk to.
It wasn’t long before
he asked me to go to a movie
and I readily agreed.
Movies tickets at our local theatre
were twenty-five cents, usually.
The first movie we went to was called
“The Housekeeper’s Daughter”
starring Joan Bennett.
I don’t remember a thing about the story.
The next week he called again
and this time
the movie he wanted to take me to was
“Gone With The Wind”.
I protested that it was too expensive.
This time he would have to spend
fifty cents each on tickets
and the movie was so long that
there was an intermission
and I knew he would want
to buy refreshments, but
I didn’t take much persuading
and we went all out for that
evening of entertainment.
This time I did remember the story.
From that evening forward ,
he was a daily caller at our home
and my mother did her best
to keep him fed.
Most of our dates were merely
a stroll down town and back
as we had no car.
We heard on the radio that
Major Bowe’s Amateur Hour
was coming to a bigger town
about thirty miles away
and both of us decided we would like to
attend that function.
Money would be a problem
on our wages, so we decided
to save up for it.
One of us bought a dime bank and
we each put any spare dime we could,
into the bank.
It held five dollars.
We managed to have
five dollars worth of dimes
by the time the big day arrived.
Dad lent us his car
and off we went.
I don’t know what the tickets cost
but we had enough to buy them
plus enough to
indulge in an ice-cream soda
at the big town soda fountain.
1940 was the year our story started.
In March of 1941
he left for Detroit, Michigan
where he had heard he could find work
at a decent wage.
He sent a telegram
that he’d found a job
at $50.00 a week.
He had a minister and marriage license.
I had never been away from home before
but I traveled to Detroit and
we were married in July of 1941.
Copyright © Joyce Johnson | Year Posted 2010
My father in the heights,
Please keep me in your sight
Cuz Parkinson's takes its toll
On mind, body, and soul.
I need someone to help me cope
Someone to feed me hope
Sweet words fall from his lips
Long after our courtship
His grin, his greatest charm,
My home is in his arms
I am safe in his embrace
My love, my ace
He has strong faith in you
He'll help my faith grow too
Together we'll pray each day
Then listen to what you say
Father, I hope you agree
This prayer, my honest plea
I trust you to find the right man
Please put my heart into his hands
Copyright 2016 Jolene Cheyney
Second poem written after 15 year hiatus from writing. After so long of a break from the hobby I wonder how to make my poetry better.
An orchestral piece in the style of Mozart was written for this poem by Joshua A.I. j
Copyright © Jolene Cheyney | Year Posted 2016
Mom looks through windows
A watched pot will never boil
A daughter's courtship
Contest; "Redneck Psalms, Improve Human Foible"
Sponsored by: John Freeman
Copyright © Virginia Mitchell | Year Posted 2010
seperated by the sea
Copyright © Abe Lopez | Year Posted 2009
Her heart has just said that
It has found the one
That it wants to settle with.
So in anticipation of the day
She will have to hang about
In a life that she would
To a certain extent do without.
For the existence that she previously knew
And dipped her toes into
Would only make the birth
Of courtship she now desires
End up in a swell of sand.
She knows that it would take years
For her soul companion
To comprehend that her
Life in now fixed Just for him
And in the closing stages he may not
Agree with the amount of
Selflessness for such an individual,
Thus may even end up walking away
From such a surprising scene.
In her heart she also knows
That the life that she
Lives on this life altering hours
Will never make him even
Imagine of staying, for he has such morals
That just makes her seem to be a stray.
So to that new life that she is going
To set on herself today
She shall at slightest have
The smallest amount of chances
to be in his hands until the end of instant.
This now gives her everlasting hope
To live until that last day.
Copyright © Shea Hunt | Year Posted 2010
I haven’t been here in a while
At this point in my life that is.
The point where something great becomes misconstrued
more filled with angst instead of jovialness.
Shot through the heart:
It hurts me to be here, hurts me to say this
But I would rather kill it, dissipate it
Then let it continue; I know I’d hate it.
I’d rather be preemptive, stay ahead.
To avoid the potentially hurtful aftermath
It’s the type to grip you by your soul and
make you want to O.D during a bubble bath.
This is just to let you know how hard it is.
It’s hard because there’s so much invested
If any shots come my way I understand;
As it seems to hardships I no longer feel the need to contest it;
It’s a love hate type of thing.
I hate that you may think the love was not all it could’ve been,
Yet we both know through hardships we made it, but this is now and that-
That was then.
No need for animosity we’ve agreed to drink in friendship responsibly
And if the time comes again where everything is lined up for both of us
Then I guess I won’t need the help of E-harmony.
This is not to say by any stretch that it is expected
or that you owe me anything by any means
but our present time is past, that’s the way the future makes it seem.
This is a divorce of sorts as are all relationships
No one courtship is perfect and this one’s included in that statistic
So despite what everyone around you might say
(Those opinionated idiots)
And even despite what your anger may make you think
We sailed on love, hurdled every obstacle, made impossible possible
But to perpetuate, a lack of being affectionate, is highly illogical.
Mix in the emotions we both possess and things become highly volatile.
We just need to get back to the basics, start anew,
With our eyes on the future with pens not pencils
There won’t be a need to erase it.
Copyright © Dominique Johnson | Year Posted 2014
The season of the firefly
Is such an awesome sight
The fields are filled with romance
And a thousand dancing lights
Their mating dance is fervent
And filled with great detail
Their lovers song is silent
Just the beacon in their tail
Their courtship is but a season
It only happens once a year
Their mating ritual, over
They suddenly disappear
But with the return of summer
The fireflies all take flight
The silent sounds of romance
Once again, will fill the night
Copyright © Larry Belt | Year Posted 2010
Celtic courtship ended
Marriage nuptials blended
"us" from me and you.
Seaside lovers heading
to the Irish Sea
showcase Christmas wedding,
Touring without hassle -
Isle of Man’s ferry,
Dublin, Blarney Castle,
Cobh Cork, and Kerry.
Guinness, china, mincemeat
homespun sweaters compete
lamb’s wool profiteers.
written February 19, 2018
contest: 88 syllables hosted by Joseph May
Copyright © Reason A. Poteet | Year Posted 2018
Girl Rising Unwanted Child
Since the day of her birth, she was not wanted.
Her mother rejected her. She was brought into
this world by a mid wife. Her mother already had
a lot of kids and didn't want anymore.
The mid wife told her - it's a beautiful little girl. The
mother said - I don't want her. You can keep her.
I don't even want to see her. The mid wife and her
husband adopted her and raised her as their own.
She would be their youngest child. They already had
She was loved from the beginning. They raised her,
send her to school, she graduated and went off to
college. While in collage she fell in love, but her boy
friend jilted her. Her heart was broken, but she still
went on and finished college.
After college - she went to Chicago to live with her
sister. There she met a young man, that liked her from
the start. They met in church. After a year of courtship,
they got married. They had a beautiful wedding.
They both worked hard. This was in the early 80's. They
raised 6 kids. Two are now married. She has a very important
job in a bank. They now own three buildings. She got to meet
her real mother at her mom's funneral. She asked her - why
are you crying? They weren't even your real parents.
She answered - They were the only parents that I ever knew.
She went back to Chicago and never saw her again. She lives
happy with her family. Both her parents that raised her have
now passed away....
Written by Lucilla M. Carrillo
Note: I believe that this is a real success story
of a girl rising. It is true. My husband and I were
sponsers at her Wedding. She is my best friend's baby
sister.... For Richard's contest ( Girl Rising )
Copyright © Lucilla Carrillo | Year Posted 2013
My sweetness to you alone will I sing Tenderly of the lovely things you are Heavenly star you are brightest by far Lonely nights with nothing under my wing My gentleman caller this song does bring A pedestal so high can you reach afar As I have heard many a shooting star Lonely nights no music upon my strings Nightly courtship becomes a loving duel Is it death do us part or just apart As one has wings to fly to a jewel One is able to play but has head start Ignited within the fire and fuel The night music becomes one beating heart
Copyright © John Beam | Year Posted 2015
That opposites attract would seem the rule.
In chemistry and physics it is found.
And samples of this principle abound
from magnates to the smallest molecule;
from X to Y in our genetic pool!
In courtship too this law proves rather sound
albeit that some exceptions can confound,
but I, for one, missed something from my school.
Past meeting, polar minds need intersection-
acceptance, awe, same goals desired to seek.
Else how can there be mutual affection
if two cannot match up? Love can be bleak!
Where’s a plain equation? Now dejection
has taken hold of me. I scale no peak!
For the Equations Contest of Anthony Slausen
Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2016
Judy Konos' Your Footle Poem Contest
Copyright © nette onclaud | Year Posted 2015
It's been awhile
I miss you my dear friend
How are you?
Do you still laugh with your heart?
Do you still play that game??
Maybe not, maybe yes
I don't know
We haven't talked for awhile
I hope you still do
Because i still do
It reminds me of us
Separated by the pacifics and the antlantics of life
We haven't seen each other
Somewhere in the callousness of technology, i lost your contacts
Somewhere in the busyness of our lives
It started to fade
Marriages, separations, divorces
Children, jobs etc
I don't know, too much
Too much pain
How's your pain?
Last time we talked, you were dating this guy that you weren't sure about
You loved him, he said he loved you too
But he had a kid out there
During your courtship
I wish you were close by
I wish i was close
So we can share box of tissues
And heal through life together
I miss you even more
I love you even more
Hopefully through the canoes and the ships of life
We will meet again
We will be
Copyright © njeri hunjeri | Year Posted 2015
Earth has grown old
Angels veiled the sky
And night has gotten cold
To put to sleep the stars on high
Wise men saw a star
And found a treasure of I Am
Shepherds heard a voice from a far
And found their lamb
Wise men came from the east
In search of a new born king
They came to worship a new born priest
With glad tidings they begin to sing
They bowed and worshiped Him
Offering treasures of gold, incense, and myrrh
And to the new born King they hymned
As they sang the sleeping child began to stir
Wise men came down to worship
They came to share love divine
It was an awesome and intense courtship
In Bethlehem “wise men at Christmas” making the headline
Copyright © Gideon Foli | Year Posted 2013
he walked with me for miles.
talked with me for ever.
kissed me with sincerity.
held me till I felt strong.
surrounded me with loving
and protective arms
and with much tenderness
left himself burried
deep within my heart.
I wrote this many years ago
we just won't say how many.
Copyright © Terry L. Allen | Year Posted 2012
Wish upon twinkle,twinkle little star
A humble beauty to wash my tired eyes
Give wings to hearts, may they travel far
and reap from love's passion its deepest sighs
And could we open our fragile new wings?
To fly into a blue universe we'll share
and glide with clouds, listening to heartstrings
Above and beyond new born wings will dare
For love to sail lightly with lover's care
and caress each breath in lively courtship
To touch this beauty with her flowing hair
as we fly as one on feathered wing tip
Sight finds stillness with only a quiver
Consoling our quiet souls while they shiver
contest Twinkle,Twinkle Little Star
Copyright © Frederic Parker | Year Posted 2015