4 True Love Poems
Let these true love poems give you thoughts to determine what true love is. When we fall in love sometimes we wonder if it is true, if it is real. Read the verses in these poems about what
true love is for these Poets.
In life, we should never miss the opportunity for true love. One sign of true love is that it never takes, it always gives!
Love So True
Poet: Julie Hebert, © 2011
I love you in the morning,
I love you all day long.
I love you in the evening,
Even when you break into song.
Can't seem to live without you,
Or want anyone else.
When did you cast this spell,
I can't control myself.
You're in my thoughts when I wake up,
And never leave till bed.
I dream of you when I sleep,
I can't control my head.
Could this love be real,
It feels so very extreme.
I feel so very obsessed with you,
This love makes me want to scream.
Maybe it's not love at all,
Could I be infatuated with you?
Maybe I'm looking for excuses,
As this love scares me so true.
What's that you say to me,
You love me just the same?
This love we share is real,
And for this, I must exclaim!
Poet: Julie Hebert, © 2011
My life without you would be hopeless,
I know you don't want to agree.
But without you I wouldn't know where I was going,
You help me to look hard and see.
You love me without even wanting,
It comes so easy to you.
I love that you love me without needing,
But I must say I love you, so true!
Poet: Catherine Pulsifer, © 2015
I dreamed of what love would be like,
But until the day I met you.
I really had no idea.
Love is beautiful and so very true.
You’ve changed my life so very much,
And have made me very happy.
Now watching movies with happy love endings,
I become so very sappy.
I also route for all my friends,
To find a love like mine.
I know they don't know what they are missing,
I just want them to feel more than fine.
I want them to soar as I soar with you,
And to climb the tallest tree.
I want them to feel what I feel for you,
As you make me feel so much glee.
Poet: J. B. Selkirk
Why do I love you? Why do rivers run?
Why does the north wind rage, the south wind sigh?
Why loves the earth to bask beneath the sun?
These follow but their nature, so do I.
How do the flowers love every flower its season?
Why loves the far-off hill its opal mist?
The birds sing out their love, but give no reason
It is enough for these that they exist.
As comes in spring the murmur of the dove,
As song of lark that cleaves the summer sky,
My heart so sings, so clings to thee, my love,
And I can give no better reason why.
It is not for your beauty, nor for pleasure.
Your matchless form, nor yet your balanced mind;
For each of these is but an earthly measure
For that which leaves earth's measures all behind.
Love, life, and death are of the things that come
Without our will, our effort, or our art;
In their unbidden presence man is dumb,
For these are masters never man could thwart.
What do we know of love? - its why, or whence?
We only know it flashes from the gloom
Of things outside our sanction or our sense;
And when it does we stand beside our doom.
Under the rich man's roof, or poor man's rafter.
When love has entered in, for ill or well.
That moment stamps itself on man's hereafter,
Whatever name he gives it - heaven or hell.
For though it cannot be but love's first seed
Should fall on earthly soil, and earth must handsel it,
Transplanted into man's immortal creed,
Time may defy eternity to cancel it.
And though love lies concealed in blinding light
That baffles reason, mocks the poet's prayer
For power to tell its infinite depth and height.
Content, we still can breathe its blessed air.
Let it suffice for you and me, that each
Heart knows its secret, loves it not less well.
Because it lies too deep, too dear for speech -
It would be less than love if we could tell.
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