Write about love – love found, love lost. Love is the eternal subject of poetry; I have a suspicion it is the reason poetry was invented. ❤


The Turning of the Tide by Charles Gibson 1900


Love doesn’t care
about outward appearance.
Love doesn’t know why it should.

Love doesn’t fear
what it doesn’t know.
What it knows is that love feels good.

Love doesn’t wait
for just the right time.
Love happens, will it or no.

Love doesn’t stop
and discuss who to love.
Love simply sets one alglow.

Love doesn’t come
to those with no heart.
And everyone has one, of course.

Love doesn’t cautiously
lurk in the background.
It batters and screams til it’s hoarse.

Love, real love,
doesn’t leave one alone.
It makes itself known, clear and bare.

But love, real love
can be silenced and stilled
by a heart that refuses to care.

Anger and pain and
reluctance to live,
and denial of needs we all bear.

Will make love despair,
will cause hearts to tear, and
will give pain without compare.

5 thoughts on “L-O-V-E

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