Love Shakespeare Poems | Examples
These Love Shakespeare poems are examples of Shakespeare poems about Love. These are the best examples of Shakespeare Love poems written by international poets.
Shall I compare thee to an elephant?
Thou art a thousand times more relevant.
'Tis not from floppy ear doth ardor rise,
Nor yet shall sinuous trunk knot love’s sweet ties;
And if thou can’t stampede across the plains,
Nor deftly roll in mud when monsoon rains,
I find my heart shall hold here little lack,
As pachyderm thou aren’t in love’s soft sack.
The love that knows no boundary set by clan;
The clans that know no love except for war;
The flower that dares to bloom, but never can;
This then the story Shakespeare told, in core.
And what the nature of a petty feud?
Where pride replaces peaceful, prosperous life;
Where little things as mountains are construed,
And things far greater die within its strife.
How might a lesser quill have writ the tale?
One family good, the other dripping ill;
The timeless lie, the righteous must prevail;
And happiness the final act to fill.
But not these things, you had much more to say:
And that is why we think of you today.
Quote from Berowne in "As You Like It"
"And I, forsooth, in love!". Now Shakespeare speaking with his good friend Richard Burbage.....
I must tell you forsooth
of my midsummer dream
a witch conjures bluetooth
her thoughts an air stream
oh crucify me not
t'is just a fantasy
and a wonderous plot
for some more alchemy
my very dear Burbage
this bluetooth will be king
Lear is merely garbage
when the airwaves can sing
now what madness is this
my dear friend, think again
to an ear no such kiss
of an unseen refrain
t'was an enticing thought
but I must beg of you
the notion is but naught
to taming of the shrew
ah well Burbage old friend
your counsel I so respect
thoughts of bluetooth I will end
my thanks for your connect
I wonder.
I wonder what will happen when
all the English dictionaries are burnt
and Shakespeare is abolished
as FAR RIGHT and Racist,
and when the Beatles are
vilified for 'She Loves You'
when it should have
been 'they them love you'.
When the battle of Britain
Begs an unreserved apology.
When the British inventions
Are cast aside as imperial luck
When Europe forgets as the Russians
Have, who saved them in WW2
When people are imprisoned for
Love of these islands and free
Speech is abolished and punished
But this horror won’t happen tomorrow
No, not tomorrow, or the day after
But don’t feel reassured or complacent
Because they arrived months ago
And we all must be ready to pay.
David Cox 02/02/25
Caught you staring at me and you felt shy
Honey if only you knew
I fantasize about you all the time
Cause it's clearer than the blue sky
You are the only joy I would never hide
You look like that daydream
I wouldn't want to wake up from
Cause reality is too far
Form the fairytale I am dreaming of
The creases on your cheeks
The wrinkles of your eyes
The way my serotonin soars high
When I make you smile
I know I am too deep in this
I am not even gonna lie
All it takes is a glance from you
To make my inner Shakespeare rise
The clock is ticking
The days are passing by
Wonder when will I be able to hold you
And finally call you mine...
Across the years, 400 plus, my stories endlessly play out their parts.
I played not on painted stage, but I knew the human heart -
I captured, with quill and scratch, the passions of laughter and tears.
I held up a mirror, in doublet and verse, to things unbound by years,
like the weight of grief, the lightness of love and the serpents of ambition.
The music of verse, the lilt and fall of words, hold a strange enchantment,
brief spells where fools, princes, witches and kings shared a selfsame planet.
Though my bones lay in hallowed ground, the stories I spun linger yet.
They've played out, in age after age, on a thousand, thousand stages.
It’s well done, If I say so myself, to live on, in millions of minds and bookshelves.
.
.
*Written for a history poem challenge: to speak for a historical figure
You said you were cured
What sickness doth ail you?
I thought we were friends
So what wall did you break through?
We chat so infrequently
Your condition is hidden
Like you locked away feelings
Like a wild horse unridden
You said you were cured
If it's true I'm all for it
I just wanted the best
If it hurts don't ignore it
I wonder if somewhere
I neglected to say this
As we journeyed so briefly
As a friend was I remiss?
You said you were cured
Of this thing unrecounted
Of this heaviest burden
From your shoulders, unmounted
I pray for you; healing
And love and a wholeness
I'm sorry it's late
I'm regretful for slowness
I pray for you; respite
And a peace unrelenting
That the kindness of others
Overwhelms while presenting
You said you were cured
I don't want to believe it
If the medicine's love
There's still time to receive it
What would be said?
Closer than
Seems far
Complexity cut out
Love can inspire
Romance can act as an angry thorn
Never easy
Theory within
Understanding on doubt
Endless fog running through the mind
Finding one’s way through direction
Endless decisions, but are they right?
Dreams and thoughts
The pain of hate
Wounds of the heart
Tormented from the past
Fire surrenders to my soul
But I don’t burn
Hot with no cold solution
Stuck on assumptions of conclusions
Somewhere inspiration has found me
I live and conquered
I stand and confident
A flame is my guiding light
I shine
Insight
My life will ever be bright
I sleep
Good Night
She warms my heart
I'm not sure how
She lights a fuse
And soon.. kerpow!
My love it swells
Her voice
Like angels' clanging bells
She wakes me up
I feel alive
Her face a feast
On which I thrive
Such lovely jawline
Perfect skin
Her posture
Perfect mannequin
I love her walk
I love her clothing
Find something wrong?
I see no thing
Her curves delight
We chat so long
Into the night
Her arms entwine
Her hands just beauty
In beastly mine
I've never liked someone like this
My heart beat falters
As lips I kiss
Balcony we sit
As shoulders touch
I like this girl
Says boy
So much
Love,
Ah Love,
What is life but with love?
Is love not a chain of gold around thy heart with a tight hold?
Is love not a spell that makes it impossible to live apart?
Is love not devoting thyself entirely to someone else's command?
Is love not signing your soul in blood till death do you part?
Love is a wisest man's worst decision;
A richest man's most worthless possession;
A bed of roses you say?
O no! Love is the thorn in the rose-bed of life that stabs you the hardest and makes you bleed every day
I shan't label love the 'star to every wand'ring bark'
Nay, it is an alluring charm
masking the most bone-chilling demons of the dark
Love isn't the pretty swirling red of delicious grape wine
No, you'd be wrong.
It is the deepest black, the motive behind every crime.
Is love not the one making you cry, standing over a grave, hoping you'd never had to have said good-bye?
Is love not a wicked curse, that amplifies every feeling, makes every love-sick day worse?
But alas!
What are humans if not built to love?
And what would life be without the cruel being we've come to see as
love.
"We know what we are, but know not what we may be."
William Shakespeare, 1564-1616
I write poems of nature, love, loss, grief,
my sweet mentor Shakespeare brought back to life;
writing of past things that creep like a thief,
of morals, visions, virtue and life's strife.
William, my pen is haunted with old woes,
and knocking on my door, knocking- is death;
help me to find the words to fight these foes,
I want joy- not moaning of each last breath.
Yes, will pen sweet jewels of nature's bliss,
my pen is your pen- you are my muse guide;
words of faith, life and of love we will kiss;
Oh William, promise to bestow you pride.
In the end- I will pen farewell, farewell;
and words like birds set free will ever dwell.
__________________
January 11, 2023
Poetry/Sonnet/Life's Wavering Passge
Copyright Protected,ID 01/11/2023
All Rights Reserved, 2023, Constance La France
Written for the Standard contest, Shakespeare in 2023
sponsor, Anoucheka Gangabissoon, Judged 01/16/2023
Indeed he was in love with his poetry
Indeed he was passionate about his dramatically dramatically design dramas
Only to mesmerize his deletable audience
Indeed he was the master of writers craft
Indeed his presence is still felts when his fans devours themselves with engrassing stories written by him
Indeed English literature was not complete
Indeed generations will cherich him
Indeed he was the King of Drama!
Doth thou, my dear, recall us still?
Tho' years quietly hasten'd on.
Do doves yet fly near Towne's Mill
and carts clang up'n cobblestone?
Are thou still light as summer's day,
with golden lockes o'er which I wept?
Did winter steal thy look of May?
For I was gone, and long I slept.
A dream this be and quite strange;
else I have fall'n, hit my head.
Village has known a bit'r change,
while April vanish'd from my stead.
Doth life but dwell within a rhyme,
ere each day lost to heedless time?
January 6, 2023
for "Shakespeare in 2023" contest
by Anoucheka Gangabissoon
Love is a gift that comes from God above
Wings of a cherubim or a cupid's arrows
Love is so majestic and beautiful like a dove
Or better yet like the tiniest gifts of sparrows
Only God could create these feelings of glory
As nice as a horizon or a bright scene
Or it could go south like the death of cousin Lori
In its purity it is never for one to intervene
Live can go awry by a pained person
But it's worth the try even if you elope
Watch out for all the military men cursing
Because they might make you go down on a slope
Yes, to be
Yes, to bea
Was his spirit destined to write
The great poet crafting his verse
Words of beauty and profound insight
That time and posterity should rehearse,
Was it the power of his imagination
Creating drama, intrigue, murder and revenge
And whatever vices lead to condemnation
In the wayward hearts of mortal men,
No, not this or anything else
But that God ordained spirit
That creates of itself
Things divine, mysterious, dark and nondescript,
Endowed with gifts from heaven above
His timeless art of life and love.
W.A CHOLT. Copyright Fergal O Reilly
12/8/22