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Was listening to stupid boy today, been the giver and receiver of what the song talks about in my time.
So I came up with the idea of posting songs and or poetry that give advice and or inspire regarding that thang called love. If one comes to your mind post it. Here are two that come to my mind for now.
I'll probably get some flak for posting this poem, since it's in the form of a love letter from a married man to a married woman (not his wife). But for what it's worth, this is probably the most haunting love poem I've ever read:
-- A Letter, by Anthony Hecht
I have been wondering
What you are thinking about, and by now suppose
It is certainly not me.
But the crocus is up, and the lark, and the blundering
Blood knows what it knows.
It talks to itself all night, like a sliding moonlit sea.
Of course, it is talking of you.
At dawn, where the ocean has netted its catch of lights,
The sun plants one lithe foot
On that spill of mirrors, but the blood goes worming through
Its warm Arabian nights,
Naming your pounding name again in the dark heart-root.
Who shall, of course, be nameless.
Anyway, I should want you to know I have done my best,
As I'm sure you have, too.
Others are bound to us, the gentle and blameless
Whose names are not confessed
In the ceaseless palaver. My dearest, the clear unquaried blue
Of those depths is all but blinding.
You may remember that once you brought my boys
Two little woolly birds.
Yesterday the older one asked for you upon finding
Your thrush among his toys.
And the tides welled about me, and I could find no words.
There is not much else to tell.
One tries one's best to continue as before,
Doing some little good.
But I would have you know that all is not well
With a man dead set to ignore
The endless repetitions of his own murmurous blood.
I found this poem for the shyer posters I see on the forum.
If I say Hi
If I could say a line
Any line to you
Would you answer?
Because i wouldn't want
To put myself out there
To be shot down
Sure I'm a little shy
And I'm a little withdrawn
But beneath my exterior
Lies something way superior
I would just say hi
To start off the conversation
Then I'd try
To steer it in a different direction
About how you look today
Or how you walk past me
Everyday
Why do I build myself up
Should I just let me down?
If I say hi
Would you pass by?
Now there has been controversy
About what would you happy?
Because people
Don't know you very well
Someone thinks
You would be happy to be arm candy
And someone would give you the world
I don't have lot
And i don't the have the look
But whatever it took
I would make you the most
Happiest girl
But I wonder
Would you notice
And I ponder on
The thoughts to make you focus
If I just say hi
To start off a conversation
Then I'd try to
Get you direct attention
Because i know how it feels
To be alone but then again
How would I know what to say
Just wondering
If I said hi
Would you pass me by?
When I first heard this song I just thought "yeah, wow, so I am not the only one who has been through that eh?" I had just been really let down, I was driving and somehow this song came on, kind of made me feel better after.
lionking, this is a great thread. Without saying more, let me say thank you for coming up with this.
I love music, I've always loved music. And when I hear a country song that really speaks to me, I learn the words. When I first started dating my wife many years ago it would send her messages with lyrics, or I would write them out on a blank card and mail it to her. I didn't have to have a reason, I would just do it when I heard a song I really liked, and said to her, what I wanted to say. About a year ago, I emailed this to her while she was at work. George Strait sings the song, here are the words:
The Man In Love With You
I'm not the hero who will always save the day.
Don't always wear the white hat, don't always know the way.
I may not even be the dream you wanted to come true,
But I'll always be the man in love with you.
I'm not the key that opens every door.
I don't have the power to give you all you want and more,
But when you're needin' somethin' special you can hold on to,
I'll always be the man in love with you.
I never could work miracles.
There may be others who can do what I can't do,
But no one else can be as good as me at lovin' you.
So when the world won't turn the way you wish it would,
And the dreams you have don't come alive as often as they should,
Remember that there's someone there whose heart is always true.
I'll always be the man in love with you.
Remember that there's someone there whose heart is always true,
Someone there to help you make it through.
I'll always be the man in love with you.
Naked, you are simple as one of your hands,
Smooth, earthy, small, transparent, round:
You have moonlines, applepathways:
Naked, you are slender as a naked grain of wheat.
Naked, you are blue as the night in Cuba;
You have vines and stars in your hair;
Naked, you are spacious and yellow
As summer in a golden church.
Naked, you are tiny as one of your nails,
Curved, subtle, rosy, till the day is born
And you withdraw to the underground world,
as if down a long tunnel of clothing and of chores:
Your clear light dims, gets dressed, drops its leaves,
And becomes a naked hand again.
I'll probably get some flak for posting this poem, since it's in the form of a love letter from a married man to a married woman (not his wife). But for what it's worth, this is probably the most haunting love poem I've ever read:
-- A Letter, by Anthony Hecht
I have been wondering
What you are thinking about, and by now suppose
It is certainly not me.
But the crocus is up, and the lark, and the blundering
Blood knows what it knows.
It talks to itself all night, like a sliding moonlit sea.
Of course, it is talking of you.
At dawn, where the ocean has netted its catch of lights,
The sun plants one lithe foot
On that spill of mirrors, but the blood goes worming through
Its warm Arabian nights,
Naming your pounding name again in the dark heart-root.
Who shall, of course, be nameless.
Anyway, I should want you to know I have done my best,
As I'm sure you have, too.
Others are bound to us, the gentle and blameless
Whose names are not confessed
In the ceaseless palaver. My dearest, the clear unquaried blue
Of those depths is all but blinding.
You may remember that once you brought my boys
Two little woolly birds.
Yesterday the older one asked for you upon finding
Your thrush among his toys.
And the tides welled about me, and I could find no words.
There is not much else to tell.
One tries one's best to continue as before,
Doing some little good.
But I would have you know that all is not well
With a man dead set to ignore
The endless repetitions of his own murmurous blood.
I am SO glad you shared that!
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