• Samantha

What I'm Loving: Love Poems

As we all know, Valentine's Day is a time to celebrate love, but it's not just romantic love that we often honor. It's also a special day to express our affection to our children, parents, significant others and friends. I've compiled a few of my favorite poems about love. Poetry has a beautiful way of illustrating what is often hard to explain.


Love and Friendship

By Emily Brontë


Love is like the wild rose-briar, Friendship like the holly-tree— The holly is dark when the rose-briar blooms But which will bloom most constantly?

The wild rose-briar is sweet in spring, Its summer blossoms scent the air; Yet wait till winter comes again And who will call the wild-briar fair?

Then scorn the silly rose-wreath now And deck thee with the holly’s sheen, That when December blights thy brow He still may leave thy garland green.


A Parent's Heart

By Ann T. Tram


When you feel like breaking down or crashing in,

Who do you turn to, to forgive your sin?

When you cried your lonely tears,

Who will be there to fight your fears?

And when it feels like no one would understand,

Who was there to hold your hand?


There are people whom you can't replace,

They're the ones who gave you your face.

They'll love you through thick and thin,

They show you the light from deep within.

And if by chance you happen to die,

They'll be the ones who will really cry.


You see, my friend, there's no one who can love you more

Than your very own parents, that's for sure.

Always remember this is true,

That wherever you go, your parents will be there for you.



Sonnet 116: Let me not to the marriage of true minds By William Shakespeare


Let me not to the marriage of true minds Admit impediments. Love is not love Which alters when it alteration finds, Or bends with the remover to remove. O no! it is an ever-fixed mark That looks on tempests and is never shaken; It is the star to every wand'ring bark, Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken. Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks Within his bending sickle's compass come; Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks, But bears it out even to the edge of doom. If this be error and upon me prov'd, I never writ, nor no man ever lov'd.


Do you have a favorite love poem?

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