Life

Go Ahead, Write a Love Poem

To anyone, or anything. You don't have to be in a blissful relationship to celebrate life.

By Fiona Tinwei Lam, 14 Feb 2011, TheTyee.ca

Word 'Love' written in the sand

Find love in roses, onions... even maggots.

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Florists, chocolate shops, drugstores and restaurants have been gearing up for the annual day to commemorate romantic love. Red and pink hearts abound in window displays and store aisles everywhere. But rather than inspiring thoughts of love and celebration, the day might trigger feelings of obligation, envy, or even dread.

Many of us have spent more years out of a relationship than in one. And certainly there are at least as many dysfunctional relationships around as there are blissful ones. Valentine's Day can seem exclusive and exclusionary, as well as manufactured and contrived. Most of us at some point in our lives have felt like the Valentine's equivalent of a Scrooge or Grinch. But perhaps something positive can be salvaged for even the most cynical among us.

The origins of Valentine's Day are murky. Saint Valentine could be one of at least three possible martyred saints recognized by the Catholic Church, about whom there are a number of legends. Around 498 AD, Pope Gelasius declared Feb. 14 to be Valentine's Day, possibly to neutralize the practice of an ancient pagan fertility festival, Lupercalia, celebrated near that date. By the 17th century, St. Valentine's Day was a popular holiday in England, with the exchange of handwritten notes or tokens of affection becoming common. With industrialization, advances in the printing press and development of a universal postal system, printed cards grew popular. In the 1840s, Esther Howland, a young woman in Massachusetts, started up a highly successful small business producing Valentine's cards similar to those made in England. Her efforts led to the popularization and mass production of Valentine's greeting cards in North America.

But before buying a mass-produced Valentine's card, or alternatively, wallowing in bitterness and loneliness while feigning complete indifference (my favourite approach in the past), why not consider taking the emotional equivalent of a "slow food" approach to the theme, taking the time to read -- or even write -- a poem about love of whatever kind, be it nascent or longstanding, sexual or divine, erotic or fraternal, reciprocated or unrequited, found or lost, or some combination of the above?

Prisoners of love

One of the oldest known valentines, a poem the Duke of Orleans wrote to his wife in 1415, is on display at the British Library in London. Admittedly, being imprisoned in the Tower of London afforded the Duke the time to write it. Centuries later, the currently imprisoned Chinese poet, Liu Xiaobo who was awarded the Nobel Peace Prize in absentia last year, wrote a beautiful poem to his wife about her long wait for his release.

Of course, incarceration is not a necessary precondition to reading or writing poetry -- for some of us anyway. But finding something truly original when so many have written on the same subject can be a challenge. The favourite lines "roses are red, violets are blue" can be traced as far back as Edmund Spenser's 1590 epic, The Faerie Queene, with the longer version found in an 18th century collection of English nursery rhymes. The red rose theme arises yet again in the 1794 song, "My Love is Like a Red, Red Rose" by Robert Burns, who documented traditional Scottish folk songs during the last decade of his life. And of course, e.e. cummings incorporated references to the rose to marvelous effect in his famous poem from 1931, "somewhere i have never travelled, gladly beyond."

In more recent times, poets have subverted the usual romantic or sentimental clichés by employing fresh, unexpected metaphors or making unusual comparisons that startle the imagination. Consider the poem, "Valentine" by Britain's first woman poet laureate, Carol Ann Duffy, in which the narrator offers her lover an onion instead of a valentine. Or Fleur Adcock's tart, nasty, and funny (unless you're nursing a broken heart) "Advice to a discarded lover" that compares a past object of affection to a maggot-laden corpse.

And love poems do not have to be of the romantic or sexual kind at all. We can love many different things in many different ways. A large proportion of poetry has some aspect of love at its foundation, whether it is about a particular person or animal, about nature, or about humanity and life itself. Think of Margaret Atwood's poem about her sister's cat, or Bronwen Wallace's kaleidoscopic poem depicting ordinary people everywhere, "Common Magic".

Showering affection

The words and descriptions in a poem don't have to be grand or philosophical. In fact, the use of specific and concrete images or events as opposed to the exclusive reliance on generalized abstract sentiments usually results in a more effective, vivid and intimate poem. It's the classic "show rather than tell" rule of literary writing. "Tell all the truth but tell it slant," wrote Emily Dickinson. Chilean poet Pablo Neruda is famous for his love sonnets, but one of my favourites is his "Ode to my socks" from his book, Elemental Odes or Odas Elementales. It brims with affection and appreciation for a friend who had knit him a pair of socks. Or look at local poet Russell Thornton's unsentimental yet supremely loving portrait, "My Mother and the Rain", which shows how his mother attempts to convey wonder and delight to her four young sons by ushering them out to the back porch to listen to the rain and ends with a magical moment at a bus stop.

And if you still want to read or write a conventionally romantic poem, the same principle applies. John Donne's wonderful, "The Sun Rising", where the lover/narrator chides the sun for waking him and his sweetheart, perfectly conveys that sense new lovers have of being at the centre of the universe.

Even if we are currently in a bitter or curmudgeonly state, we can know that there is at least one person or thing in our lives that we have cherished at some point: a family member, a friend, an animal, a special place in nature or in time. Taking the time to reflect on love, whether through poetry or not, whether we are in love and are loved or not, means we are making space for something precious and real in our hectic, sometimes fraught lives. Even if actual love may indeed waver or change, surely it is worthwhile to touch upon that aspect of our humanity once in a while, be it on Feb. 14, or any other day of the year. As Philip Larkin stated in "An Arundel Tomb," "Our almost instinct almost true:/What will survive of us is love."

Care to share a love poem of your own? Or a favourite? Please do, in the comment thread below! [Tyee]

Fiona Tinwei Lam has published two books of poetry. One of her short poems about loss and love appears in The Best Canadian Poetry in English 2010. Her own poem about love and maggots, "Stream," recently took second place in Geist magazine's annual Jackpine sonnet contest.


16 Comments:

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  • Rhea

    1 year ago

    bring back the teen angst poetry!

    OK, as a confirmed hater of "Hellmark Holidaze" I would really, really like to see the Tyee bring back the Teen Angst Poetry Contest.

    Please? I'll give you chocolates?

  • Jerry Munro

    1 year ago

    Marie from Victoria

    I could not resist posting this piece, written for my wife on the occassion of our 40th in 1999. Not sophisticated or very literate, but she loved it.

    Marie From Victoria

    We walked in the rain down Government St.,
    The streetlights and headlights of cars floating
    on the wet pavement,
    Like moonlit lily-pads about our feet.
    There was a rightness to it even then,
    Which I could see in the sweet gentleness
    of your street lit face,
    And in the ease of our laughter back when.

    Yet come down fast forward to the present,
    Forty-years of complex human stuff in
    the wink of an eye,
    And I would not the least be hesitant,
    To again set upon that walk with you,
    Down those streets so quickly transformed into
    a slippery slope,
    Only the strong endure such as we two.

  • wcullen

    1 year ago

    Seal

    Reminds me of being at a Seal concert when he said: "I'm going to sing another song about love...because, what else is there to sing about..."

  • janetvickers

    1 year ago

    Love: the initiation

    Broken. Not in but open.
    The needled air unthreads the thread
    the fabric you’ve worn
    all your life.

    Fire travels through your addictions
    no longer fighting among themselves.
    Should, want, would—all done.

    Control is not what you have.
    What you have is panic,
    rapture, as you watch
    your own disembowelment.

    It is not his fault. Or yours.
    It is your compass that breaks
    —the mind’s borders invaded
    by a nameless galaxy.

    And suddenly, briefly,
    you hold in your arms
    every planet that ever named itself
    or was named

    and your eyes swallow the sky
    whole.

  • Talon

    1 year ago

    A Lucky Man

    A Lucky Man

    My love is always beautiful
    And on a clear day
    She dazzles me with sparkles.

    My love is always sensual
    And on a rainy day
    She quenches my needs.

    My love is always intoxicating
    And on a windy day
    I’m inebriated by her aromas.

    My love is always magical.
    And from the cosmos
    Her radiance overwhelms me.

    Every day of my life
    I receive her love.
    I am a lucky man.

  • dorishray

    1 year ago

    Love Poem

    Love Don’t get No Better Than That!

    “I don’t buy into that Valentines’ hype,”
    he growled as he came through the door,
    arms laden with groceries
    and yesterday’s newspaper.
    No flowers,
    No chocolates,
    Not even a card…

    “Besides,” he added
    with an ingratiating grin,
    “Every day that we’re together
    is Valentine’s Day.”

    Before I lapsed into a self-righteous pout
    I recalled the love song he’d written
    ‘Specially for me,
    And when I’d had that cancer scare
    He’d wished that it’d been him.
    But the absolute efficacy
    The ultimate validity
    Of his devotion to me
    Was that
    He’d always
    Bait my hook
    And then remove the fish

    Love don’t get no better’n that…
    THANK YOU FOR BEING MY VALENTINE!

  • Marushka

    1 year ago

    Valentine's Day, 1973

    Came bounding in this morning at 2 am
    (not drunk as one might
    imagine of a drunkard)
    but rather weary from too many long days
    and nights
    of too much work.
    Only to find
    a bed strangely flat without your pillows
    closets barer than usual
    a tidyness that seened almost hostile
    and a note
    informing me that you too were no longer
    an ornament on the premises.
    The card I brought for you
    seemed suddenly inappropriate
    foolish rather than funny.
    Incongruous.
    Your note was, of course,
    completely appropriate
    for two people who didn't communicate
    as well as we didn't communicate.
    Silences that couldn't be broken
    by words
    or bridged by writing.
    As you said, it is perhaps for the best
    for we never were friends
    having nothing to share
    except silence.
    Was that the choice?
    I thought not
    but maybe that really was what I meant.
    I don't know
    not being very good at people-things.
    Let's just say
    Round Five finally ended the match
    on a techincal walkout.
    Goddbye, my dear.
    I'm not bitter
    just slightly less trustful of the world
    and
    like my apartment
    a little emptier.

  • Marushka

    1 year ago

    Valentine's Day 2006

    I wanted to give you the world
    gift wrapped and boxed
    ready-made beautiful.
    I wanted to save you from mistakes
    false starts
    false love
    from pain of obsession
    from grief of growing old.
    I am older and wiser
    I loved you more deeply
    I always will.
    It takes talent not to feel.
    Love is not the question
    Not the answer.
    We are mother and daughter and sisters
    The incest taboo finds us guilty
    I must face the sentence
    You can't go home again.
    Remember
    Many gladly die for their freedom
    Hanging on is the only sin.

  • tessmw

    1 year ago

    Side by Side

    "Once the realization is accepted that even between the closest human beings infinite distances continue to exist, a wonderful living side by side can grow up, if they succeed in loving the distance between them which makes it possible for each to see the other whole against the sky." ~ Rainer Maria Rilke

  • edfry

    1 year ago

    this light...

    my being, startled by a wave of blue light
    lowing out of the mountains and down through this empty air,
    opens and surveys this rustling atmosphere.
    this light is soft and dense,
    thick with a delicious emergence.
    a breeze propelled this light and then the breeze stilled
    and this light grew around me,
    as if an ancient greeting,
    settling low, immediate, beside my heart.
    my soul opens
    turns into a wave of white light and dances upon the wet grass.
    two lights shimmering,
    sparkling exquisite upon the smear of the orange dawn.
    a rumbling of deep love rises out of the opening earth.

  • Jim Harris

    1 year ago

    VALENTINE

    Will you grow your hair long
    my Valentine woman
    and let it unravel
    when you lie down - so far
    an ocean away?

    Will you grow your hair now
    to run through my fingers
    for the hours that pass
    before you lie down - so far
    an ocean away?

    Will you let your black hair
    reel over my pillow
    for the miles it takes you
    to lie down - so far
    an ocean apart?

    Or be a continent
    extending your limbs
    across the sea
    to where I lie down
    so far - an ocean away?

    Then will I braid ropes
    in your black hair
    and draw your peninsulas
    about me, where we lie down
    so far - an ocean away.

  • morechatter

    1 year ago

    Love

    Love, love, love
    what you do to me
    a racing heart,
    shortness of breath,
    unbridled,
    waiting for your call,
    giddy with laughter,
    no appetite,
    where will you take me,
    to a place unknown,
    afraid,
    lost in your kisses,
    only to be found,
    love, love, love
    what you do to me

    Love the one your with like you will never leave them and leave them like you never loved them.

  • skarpes

    1 year ago

    My Valentine...

    Spring's pink buds
    Never arrive too soon
    Burtsting through bark,
    through winter's dark
    Like diamonds and gems
    A lover's birth
    Petals and blossoms
    and lust unearthed
    Come forth in colours
    as the days grow long
    and wetting your lips
    with summer's song.

  • warbler

    1 year ago

    A man from Nantucket

    There once was a man from Nantucket
    Who had a foot so long he could suck it
    He said with a grin, as he wiped off his chin
    "If my ear were a hair, I would pluck it"

  • exalbertan

    1 year ago

    These are entries in a

    These are entries in a Washington Post competition asking for a two line rhyme with a romantic first line, and a not so romantic second line:

    1. My darling, my lover, my beautiful
    wife,
    Marrying you has screwed up my life.

    2. I see your face when I am dreaming,
    that's why I always wake up screaming.

    3. Kind, intelligent, loving and hot,
    This describes everything you are not.

    4. I thought that I could love no other,
    That is until I met your brother.

    5. Roses are red, violets are blue, sugar
    is sweet And so are you
    but, the roses are wilting, the violets
    are dead, the sugar bowl's empty and
    so is your head.

    6. I love your smile, your face, and your
    eyes,
    Damn, I'm good at telling lies!

    7. What inspired this amorous rhyme?
    Two parts vodka, one part lime.

  • arxsyn

    1 year ago

    Like This

    I stumbled upon an amazing poem by Rumi from a perfumery site [of all places!]. "Like This" is the name of Tilda Swinton's perfume---also her favourite poem. You can hear her read out this inspiration at
    Etat Libre d'orange. Click on Like This. To read and listen to Like This click 'audio' or 'inspiration' inside the Flash presentation.

    Some of the more racy bits in this poem... It's a rather demonstrative piece of prose poetry at work!

    If anyone asks you
    How the perfect satisfaction
    Of all our sexual wanting
    Would look, lift your face and say,

    Like this

    If anyone wants to know what “spirit” is,
    Or what “God’s fragrance” means,
    Lean your head toward him or her.
    Keep your face there close.

    Like this

    When someone quotes the old poetic image
    About clouds gradually uncovering the moon,
    Slowly loosen knot by knot
    The strings of your robe.

    Like this.

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