When you think of love poetry you think of young men and women spinning yarns of exaggerated verse such as “your face is more beautiful than the rising sun” and “your presence lightens the day and incites birds to mate” …well…you get the drift, right?
But such is the stuff of poetry that makes poets more feared than their fanged brethren: Vampires! Reading corny poetry like that out in public is perhaps the surest way to lose friends fast and die sad and lonely. And yes you are right…I should know!!!
Truth be told, writing love poems is the hardest kind of poetry. Its is so easy to exaggerate your emotions or drop an unnecessary rhyme or a cliche like “she smells like a rose”…shudder! If at all you use cliches then make them deliberate to make a point like Carol in her poem Valentine.
Juliet and Romeo syndrome
My best advise would be to stay clear from the “Juliet and Romeo” syndrome. While Juliet and Romeo was an exemplary play in its time, centuries later it is a bit of a “been there and done that” and might I add, a bit out of date. So try and get out of the “Juliet and Romeo” mold. Instead chose a more realistic 21st century setting and if you can introduce a 21st century problem then you got our ears.
Also try not to take yourself or your love interest too seriously. Avoid trite settings where your love interest is leaving you to die in gumption mourning her loss. Its so *yawningly* played out.
Can you describe your love without using commonplace words such as, “love”, “beautiful”, “lovely”, “heart”, names of flowers and birds, and celestial objects such as the Moon and The Sun?
If so, then go ahead write a love poem and make us truly connect with your emotions. If you do, feel free to link to my post or send me your poem in the comments section with your name and blog so I may give you the deserved credit. Here are a few to inspire you:
by Carol Ann Duffy
Not a red rose or a satin heart.
I give you an onion.
It is a moon wrapped in brown paper.
It promises light
like the careful undressing of love.
It will blind you with tears
like a lover.
It will make your reflection
a wobbling photo of grief.
By Walt Whitman
A glimpse through an interstice caught,
Of a crowd of workmen and drivers in a bar-room around the stove late of a winter night, and I unremark’d seated in a corner,
Of a youth who loves me and whom I love, silently approaching and seating himself near, that he may hold me by the hand,
A long while amid the noises of coming and going, of drinking and oath and smutty jest,
There we two, content, happy in being together, speaking little, perhaps not a word.