Best What Is Love Poems
I still recall our first poetic glance,
dormant pen roused my fingers to dance.
Her love was like a cherry blossom tree,
which at first blossomed so beautifully.
When a tender breeze took each fragile bud,
we stood naked, vulnerable to the flood.
Broken branches fell, as love became silent,
our poems burned in fires, ever so violent.
Her absence formed a lawless state of mind,
vacant heart bled for memories left behind.
Some say sorrow washes away with rain,
but in heartbreak, torpid wounds leave a stain.
Love is a balance of peace and distress,
yet it's something two souls cannot suppress.
Simple Sonnet
Silent One
Example for what is love contest.
How can I ever describe love,
when love defies definition?
For while shared with Angels, sort of,
it is a human condition.
Have you ever felt so alive
that life felt almost too extreme?
And caught up in passion's drive,
have you ever lived out your dream?
Have you ever gotten a kiss
that left you floating on a cloud?
And filled with spontaneous bliss,
have you ever shouted out loud?
Have you ever felt light as air,
or felt warm and gooey inside?
And as jealous eyes gawk and stare,
have you ever strutted with pride?
Have you ever felt you were whole,
falling head over heels in love?
And felt such warmth within your soul,
that it rivaled heaven above?
What is Love
Trust - unconditionally in that someone special.
Faith - and devotion through divine destiny.
Contentment - in knowing love is equally reciprocated.
Soul connection - that tethers a couple together forever.
8-6-2018
A four line poem on what is love Poetry Contest~Second place~
Sponsored by: Faraz Ajmal
What is love? What is love? ‘Tis a word often heard.
“Unconditional love” oftentimes is absurd
because there are many who seem so capricious.
Tossed around is the word when their love’s fictitious!
What is love? What is love? It’s a feeling and some
may feel it, while some others - to love they are numb.
Some say it and mean it; with actions they show it.
Those numb to it though cannot know it or grow it.
Love with passion or romance can fool us the most.
It’s more like a sickness that’s been misdiagnosed.
It’s all about pheromones or how someone looks.
It gets exaggerated in poetry books.
Love of country, of God; love of family too.
These all are quite common, but are they really true?
I think most sincerely that examples abound,
and those with Agape in this world I have found.
Love for friends and dear ones though imperfect it be
is both practiced and felt by good folks constantly.
One cannot deny the remarkable joy
of holding one’s own newly born daughter or boy.
What is love? What is love? Its proof lies with those
who bring light to our lives. In their actions love shows.
As God’s children, our potential we must believe.
Loving others as ourselves, great peace we’ll receive!
Feb. 7, 2021 for the Unseeking Seeker's What Is Love Poetry Contest
Love begins with joy,
sidestepping thought ploy,
sharing and caring,
with all souls pairing.
Love is not a trade,
nor assigns a grade;
it's a warm embrace,
akin to God's grace.
Bliss bubbles passion
is love's compassion,
holding each soul near;
all to our heart dear.
When true love's seeded,
no echo's needed,
for the flame burns on,
each breath a new dawn.
Like the pristine dew,
each love hue is new,
magic on display,
making earth life play.
Fires of love let's stoke
in heart to invoke,
bliss fragrance sublime,
to heavenward climb.
21-August-2022
HMS, Rhymezone
The Meaning of Love Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Anoucheka Gangabissoon
A tender smile, a fleeting glance,
Eyes that meet to touch the soul,
A beating heart, a breathless breath,
A deepened sense of something whole.
A need to please and give of self,
To share all things of mind and heart
With openness and sweet surrender,
And of the whole become a part.
A touch of closeness and of warmth,
The radiance of inner glow,
Bathe in light- an endless aura,
A current charged with- endless flow.
To feel another's joy and pain,
Two beating hearts, as one, to care.
And of the thoughts, that words can't speak,
Two open souls, in silence, share.
To speak of love through word and song
Is at its best, mere child’s play,
In contrast to the silent prose
That heart and soul, through love, convey.
Love is the bind between the sighs and cries
A choice made to hold onto what matters
The strength to move within the lows and highs
And hold the fragile heart when it shatters
To fit oneself into a world of two
Release the light to splay upon the dark
And show the traveled path when love is new
To fill the colored world with rainbow's arc
Find a hand of comfort that one can hold
And move from youth to the days of gray
Live a peaceful life as the years turn old
To walk the graveled roads and always stay
If love can be of this, then we will know
The love we shared will leave an afterglow
Its the arthritic loving hands round the stubborn slipper
a dry kiss in the morn an unshaven face touching mine
the window seat with a view that makes the heart stir
love is many things to many people and that is fine
It can be a single rose, placed gently on the sham
or a smile on the lips that says " I know where you live "
its friends its strangers its blood line members and fam
love is many things to many people and that is fine
Years of belonging to the one that sprinkles the sun
a little cereal, a cup of tea, or so much of his shine
love is an emotion an action, its never on the run
love is many things to many people and that is fine
Two souls that skate around each other for a lifetime
Two hearts that bind together in the solvency of time.
March 15, 2019
What is love if it is not the selfless,
Wholehearted joy in another’s fortune?
If it is not the thrill at another’s joy?
If it is not the longing for another’s happiness,
Then what is love at all?
Real love remains untainted by bitter negativity,
By possessiveness and jealousy.
By human nature’s poisons and insecurities.
Love is the power to grant freedom, to trust, to adore.
So, what is love if not the warm and carefree feeling?
A heart brimming full of laughter and light?
If these emotions are not love,
Then who can claim to love at all?
Love is not a need, or desire, nor is it the want of flesh.
Love is the simple pleasure of another’s company,
The sharing, sometimes, the sacrifice,
The ultimate willingness to put another first.
The hunger to make another happy.
The need to dry their tears,
To tend their ill health,
To help them be all that they can be.
To inspire their dreams,
Cultivate ambitions
And give absolutely, unequivocally your all.
Because love makes us better than we are,
And what is love, if it is not the beautiful,
And soul singing feeling of fulfilment,
Pride and joy in the existence of another?
What is love if it is not all accepting,
All forgiving and all kind?
Love is a guiding light in life,
Something to aspire towards.
What is love then,
If not the warmth in my chest,
The smile as I fall asleep,
The eagerness with which I wake?
What is love, if not the excitement,
The anticipation you always leave me with?
I ask you then, what is love,
If it is not what I feel for you?
Humming a beautiful love song
as I skip around the room
the smell of fresh baked cookies
as I enjoy this Tuesday afternoon
Watching children play in the leaf piles
out in the neighbor's front yard
Daydreaming of a family
together between me and you
Days of smiles and nights of warmth
in a cozy little home upon a grassy noll
Giant oaks and evergreens
along with an apple tree
filling up our hillside
where we'll picnic in the spring
Holding hands and living dreams
what love is supposed to be
A note I'll write for you my dear
about a time I do foresee
Where my heart is full
the beats ring true
and love is all we live
If I say I love you,
What does it mean?
Is it just something physical,
A sexual thing?
Is it just what I feel,
When I feel my blood surge,
When you reach out and touch me,
A physical urge?
That can't be love,
It's just chemistry.
It cannot be based,
On biology.
For sure we all know,
That's the way it begins,
But if that's all there is,
Then soon it will end.
When the newness wears off,
And things become old,
Then boredom sets in,
And the lamb leaves the fold,
In search of new pastures,
And new, sweeter grass,
So listen and learn,
Be ye lad or a lass.
Love is a deep,
And emotional thing,
That grows over time,
Not just a short fling.
It's something so precious,
Something so rare,
Most find it but once,
So shop with great care.
You'll kiss many frogs,
'Fore you find a prince,
It's an old saying, yes,
But it makes lots of sense.
Don't jump at the first one,
That may come along.
They'll woo you and lose you,
With an old but sweet song.
Set your sights higher,
For it's a sure bet,
One values the most,
What is hardest to get.
Love.
There are so many conotations behind it,
Yet what does it mean?
I think too much,
But can’t come to terms with any thoughts.
This brain fog is yet to go,
But how will I know
When it is gone?
Love.
What I feel is not romantic, no.
It is not some crush,
It is not feeble,
I am not in love.
I swallow the dry taste of confusion
Drifting through me.
I cannot think,
But the thoughts are always there.
What is love?
Why must it be divided into parts
Like romantic and platonic?
I don’t know where to start.
This feeling is not romantic,
Yet it is not platonic, either.
What I feel goes deeper, but not too deep.
I continue to wonder;
What might be if these words ever released from my lips.
I love in a way that cannot be described.
Comfort. Warmth. Safety.
Those are the words
Quawing like birds
In my mind.
Love.
I am constantly thinking.
Not with my head,
But with my heart.
But I wonder:
Is my heart burdened by my brain?
All of this pain
Yet to go away.
What is love?
Is it some socially constructed label?
One of few definitions, none worthy of explaining
What is going on up there?
Who’s to say?
My mind won’t sway,
It’s just another day
Of tormented silence.
What does it mean to be held?
Why would I ever want that in a non-carnal way?
Because I am not to be narrowed down to some physical prowess.
My anxiety keeps me from feeling,
But makes me feel constantly.
Love.
Why must you be so complicated?
Drifting away,
I do not pray
To a god,
But to anyone listening to free me from sorrow.
This love is not sorrow, no.
But the state of unknowing is treacherous.
Why must I conform to societies beliefs of what I am supposed to feel?
Love.
I don’t know what this love is,
I just know what it isn’t.
What is this love?
Love is the blueness of the star sapphire sky
Where the moon bathes upon the indigo oceans
The tenderness of your voice and charismatic cry
Echoing ecstasy's of your ethereal emotions
Love is the strumming of a celestial symphony
Where our hearts pulsate within the violet vortex
Your embellishing embrace an eternal epiphany
The climatic creations of the cerebrum cortex
Love is the exchange of enamored energies
Minds that merge and mount the multi-verses
A sacramental succumbing of salacious synergies
Amidst the nebulous clouds where love immerses
Love is the continuous continuum of you and I
Holding hands beneath the deep sapphire sky.
March.03.2019
What is Love
Sponsored by: Silent One
Placed 1'st...Thank You
Warm breezes flow on another cloudless night
past her second story lattice balcony window
a silhouette dances in the painted moonlight
and against that dim lit lamppost I lean
dreaming of dancing beside her
but blind visions hold me back
for this crying heart can't consume
anymore leaving in a pain stained life
Courage overcomes loneliness
and a weakened stone tumbles
towards a bountiful sea
star shine leads lovers home
erasing cries inside
but as those tempest touches get close
and as those blind caresses near
a drenching rain washes away the heat
and destiny never meets
What is love if it can't survive the rain
if it can't push past the ever present pain
a rainbow surviving to glow again
even in the perfect storm we can see
a fragile floret floating in the wind
seeking a solitary sanctuary to seed
A kiss from my mom each night on my forehead,
A smile and a hug when I fall, from my dad,
Forgiveness from my brother when I play with his toy-car,
or from my sister when I eat the last candy from the jar,
A lick on my cheeks from Max, my new dog,
Miss Piggy, together with Kermit The Frog.
The hands of my grandfather throwing me up high,
The grandmother's pear compote or her sweet apple pie.
Lucas, my neighbor when he brings me his cat
Olivia, my cousin, letting me borrow her beautiful red hat.
The rain when we jump, just for fun, in the mud,
A soft blow on my scars, bandages for blood.