Help me pick a poem for a gift.
April 12, 2010 7:56 PM Subscribe
Poetry filter: I am looking for a relatively short (no longer than 10-12 lines) poem or excerpt of a poem (or especially lyrical piece of prose) that conveys the message: "When we are far apart, or fighting, or things are bad, remember that I love you/that we make each other happy." This is for a relationship that is serious but not committed, so please nothing that includes talk of being together forever or being the only one for someone.
Best answer: My first thought:
To Tu Fu From Shantung
by Li Po
You ask how I spend my time–
I nestle against a treetrunk
and listen to autumn winds
in the pines all night and day.
Shantung wine can’t get me drunk.
The local poets bore me.
My thoughts remain with you,
like the Wen River, endlessly flowing.
posted by jeffmshaw at 8:12 PM on April 12, 2010 [11 favorites]
To Tu Fu From Shantung
by Li Po
You ask how I spend my time–
I nestle against a treetrunk
and listen to autumn winds
in the pines all night and day.
Shantung wine can’t get me drunk.
The local poets bore me.
My thoughts remain with you,
like the Wen River, endlessly flowing.
posted by jeffmshaw at 8:12 PM on April 12, 2010 [11 favorites]
Best answer: The Neruda poem "El Pozo" ("The Well") might suit your query.
You can read it in Spanish (and English, if you scroll down) here.
posted by limeonaire at 8:20 PM on April 12, 2010 [1 favorite]
You can read it in Spanish (and English, if you scroll down) here.
posted by limeonaire at 8:20 PM on April 12, 2010 [1 favorite]
Most of the ones I can think of (other than "To Tu Fu From Shantung") are longer than you asked for, but you might well find a suitable excerpt from one of these.
An excerpt from Khalil Gibran:
"When love beckons to you, follow him,
Though his ways are hard and steep.
And when his wings enfold you yield to him,
Though the sword hidden among his pinions may wound you."
(It goes on like that. Maybe pick your favorite part)
Carl Sandburg's "Little Word, Little White Bird" (excerpt)
"Love is a little white bird
and the flight of it so fast
you can't see it
and you know it's there
only by the faint whirr of its wings
and the hush song coming so low to your ears
you fear it might be silence
and you listen keen
and you listen long
and you know it's more than silence
for you get the hush song so lovely
it hurts and cuts into your heart"
Frank O'Hara, "Having A Coke With You" (excerpt)
is even more fun than going to San Sebastian, Irún, Hendaye, Biarritz, Bayonne
or being sick to my stomach on the Travesera de Gracia in Barcelona
partly because in your orange shirt you look like a better happier St. Sebastian
partly because of my love for you, partly because of your love for yoghurt
partly because of the fluoresent orange tulips around the birches
partly because of the secrecy our smiles take on before people and statuary
it is hard to believe when I'm with you that there can be anything as still
as solemn as unpleasantly definitive as statuary when right in front of it
in the warm New York 4 o'clock light we are drifting back and forth
between each other like a tree breathing through its spectacles
There's also always "I Carry Your Heart With Me," but it's longer than 12 lines and carries with it the "you're the one" connotation you seek to avoid. It is undeniably awesome, though.
I'll do some looking for some under-12-lines originals, too.
posted by jeffmshaw at 8:31 PM on April 12, 2010
An excerpt from Khalil Gibran:
"When love beckons to you, follow him,
Though his ways are hard and steep.
And when his wings enfold you yield to him,
Though the sword hidden among his pinions may wound you."
(It goes on like that. Maybe pick your favorite part)
Carl Sandburg's "Little Word, Little White Bird" (excerpt)
"Love is a little white bird
and the flight of it so fast
you can't see it
and you know it's there
only by the faint whirr of its wings
and the hush song coming so low to your ears
you fear it might be silence
and you listen keen
and you listen long
and you know it's more than silence
for you get the hush song so lovely
it hurts and cuts into your heart"
Frank O'Hara, "Having A Coke With You" (excerpt)
is even more fun than going to San Sebastian, Irún, Hendaye, Biarritz, Bayonne
or being sick to my stomach on the Travesera de Gracia in Barcelona
partly because in your orange shirt you look like a better happier St. Sebastian
partly because of my love for you, partly because of your love for yoghurt
partly because of the fluoresent orange tulips around the birches
partly because of the secrecy our smiles take on before people and statuary
it is hard to believe when I'm with you that there can be anything as still
as solemn as unpleasantly definitive as statuary when right in front of it
in the warm New York 4 o'clock light we are drifting back and forth
between each other like a tree breathing through its spectacles
There's also always "I Carry Your Heart With Me," but it's longer than 12 lines and carries with it the "you're the one" connotation you seek to avoid. It is undeniably awesome, though.
I'll do some looking for some under-12-lines originals, too.
posted by jeffmshaw at 8:31 PM on April 12, 2010
Extol thee -- could I? Then I will
By saying nothing new --
But just the truest truth
That thou art heavenly.
Perceiving thee is evidence
That we are of the sky
Partaking thee a guaranty
Of immortality
Emily Dickinson. I particularly love the second part, but the first is fairly well "you are awesome." But no "you and me in one eternal endless love together, soulmate".
posted by bunnycup at 8:34 PM on April 12, 2010 [2 favorites]
By saying nothing new --
But just the truest truth
That thou art heavenly.
Perceiving thee is evidence
That we are of the sky
Partaking thee a guaranty
Of immortality
Emily Dickinson. I particularly love the second part, but the first is fairly well "you are awesome." But no "you and me in one eternal endless love together, soulmate".
posted by bunnycup at 8:34 PM on April 12, 2010 [2 favorites]
Best answer: I've always thought the middle bit of Belle and Sebastian's Like Dylan in the Movies captures this well:
Yeah you're worth the trouble and you're worth the pain
And you're worth the worry, I would do the same
If we all went back to another time
I will love you over
I will love you
Also, Jeffrey McDaniel has two poems that touch on the distance part of this that I love, "Absence" and "The Quiet World."
Absence
On the scales of desire, your absence weighs more
than someone else’s presence, so I say no thanks
to the woman who throws her girdle at my feet,
as I dropp a postcard in the mailbox and watch it
throb like a blue heart in the dark. Your eyes
are so green - one of your parents must be
part traffic light. We’re both self-centered,
but the world revolves around us at the same speed.
Last night I tossed and turned inside a thundercloud.
This morning my sheets were covered in pollen.
I remember the long division of Saturday’s
pomegranate, a thousand nebulae in your hair,
as soldiers marched by, dragging big army bags
filled with water balloons, and we passed a lit match,
back and forth, between our lips, under an oak tree
I had absolutely nothing to do with.
The Quiet World
In an effort to get people to look
into each other's eyes more,
and also to appease the mutes,
the government has decided
to allot each person exactly one hundred
and sixty-seven words, per day.
When the phone rings, I put it to my ear
without saying hello. In the restaurant
I point at chicken noodle soup.
I am adjusting well to the new way.
Late at night, I call my long distance lover,
proudly say I only used fifty-nine today.
I saved the rest for you.
When she doesn't respond,
I know she's used up all her words,
so I slowly whisper I love you
thirty-two and a third times.
After that, we just sit on the line
and listen to each other breathe.
posted by PhoBWanKenobi at 8:35 PM on April 12, 2010 [14 favorites]
Yeah you're worth the trouble and you're worth the pain
And you're worth the worry, I would do the same
If we all went back to another time
I will love you over
I will love you
Also, Jeffrey McDaniel has two poems that touch on the distance part of this that I love, "Absence" and "The Quiet World."
Absence
On the scales of desire, your absence weighs more
than someone else’s presence, so I say no thanks
to the woman who throws her girdle at my feet,
as I dropp a postcard in the mailbox and watch it
throb like a blue heart in the dark. Your eyes
are so green - one of your parents must be
part traffic light. We’re both self-centered,
but the world revolves around us at the same speed.
Last night I tossed and turned inside a thundercloud.
This morning my sheets were covered in pollen.
I remember the long division of Saturday’s
pomegranate, a thousand nebulae in your hair,
as soldiers marched by, dragging big army bags
filled with water balloons, and we passed a lit match,
back and forth, between our lips, under an oak tree
I had absolutely nothing to do with.
The Quiet World
In an effort to get people to look
into each other's eyes more,
and also to appease the mutes,
the government has decided
to allot each person exactly one hundred
and sixty-seven words, per day.
When the phone rings, I put it to my ear
without saying hello. In the restaurant
I point at chicken noodle soup.
I am adjusting well to the new way.
Late at night, I call my long distance lover,
proudly say I only used fifty-nine today.
I saved the rest for you.
When she doesn't respond,
I know she's used up all her words,
so I slowly whisper I love you
thirty-two and a third times.
After that, we just sit on the line
and listen to each other breathe.
posted by PhoBWanKenobi at 8:35 PM on April 12, 2010 [14 favorites]
The Shirt
by Jane Kenyon
The shirt touches his neck
and smooths over his back.
It slides down his sides.
It even goes down below his belt—
down into his pants.
Lucky shirt.
posted by sallybrown at 8:57 PM on April 12, 2010 [1 favorite]
by Jane Kenyon
The shirt touches his neck
and smooths over his back.
It slides down his sides.
It even goes down below his belt—
down into his pants.
Lucky shirt.
posted by sallybrown at 8:57 PM on April 12, 2010 [1 favorite]
My last offering for the evening: the last nine line of "A Forge, and a Scythe" by Raymond Carver.
"Your face, your mouth, your shoulder
inconceivable to me now!
Where did they go? It’s like
I dreamed them. The stones we brought
home from the beach lie face up
on the windowsill, cooling.
Come home. Do you hear?
My lungs are thick with the smoke
of your absence."
posted by jeffmshaw at 8:57 PM on April 12, 2010 [2 favorites]
"Your face, your mouth, your shoulder
inconceivable to me now!
Where did they go? It’s like
I dreamed them. The stones we brought
home from the beach lie face up
on the windowsill, cooling.
Come home. Do you hear?
My lungs are thick with the smoke
of your absence."
posted by jeffmshaw at 8:57 PM on April 12, 2010 [2 favorites]
Kind of a twisted option, depending on the exact nature of what "not committed" means, but if you and your partner have slightly dark senses of humor, there's Shakespeare's Sonnet 138:
When my love swears that she is made of truth
I do believe her, though I know she lies,
That she might think me some untutor'd youth,
Unlearned in the world's false subtleties.
Thus vainly thinking that she thinks me young,
Although she knows my days are past the best,
Simply I credit her false-speaking tongue:
On both sides thus is simple truth suppress'd.
But wherefore says she not she is unjust?
And wherefore say not I that I am old?
O, love's best habit is in seeming trust,
And age in love loves not to have years told:
Therefore I lie with her and she with me,
And in our faults by lies we flatter'd be.
posted by Saxon Kane at 9:14 PM on April 12, 2010
When my love swears that she is made of truth
I do believe her, though I know she lies,
That she might think me some untutor'd youth,
Unlearned in the world's false subtleties.
Thus vainly thinking that she thinks me young,
Although she knows my days are past the best,
Simply I credit her false-speaking tongue:
On both sides thus is simple truth suppress'd.
But wherefore says she not she is unjust?
And wherefore say not I that I am old?
O, love's best habit is in seeming trust,
And age in love loves not to have years told:
Therefore I lie with her and she with me,
And in our faults by lies we flatter'd be.
posted by Saxon Kane at 9:14 PM on April 12, 2010
Also Shakespeare #116 (although it does talk about being "ever-fixed" that doesn't necessarily mean "committed"):
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 wandering 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 proved,
I never writ, nor no man ever loved.
posted by Saxon Kane at 9:17 PM on April 12, 2010 [1 favorite]
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 wandering 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 proved,
I never writ, nor no man ever loved.
posted by Saxon Kane at 9:17 PM on April 12, 2010 [1 favorite]
Best answer: Connected extensions of thoughts and words
Stretched thin as though the wind has pulled
In ways that we could never see
Yet where the wind starts and where it ends
Are known to none but myself and thee
So forward we're driven, to and fro
Spinning in whirls and long sweeping rushes
Sometimes tossed or just gently swept
Blown back to beginnings or so far afield
But always the wind dries the tears that we've wept
-----
Umm...original. Done for you upon this request.
posted by swimming naked when the tide goes out at 9:28 PM on April 12, 2010 [2 favorites]
Stretched thin as though the wind has pulled
In ways that we could never see
Yet where the wind starts and where it ends
Are known to none but myself and thee
So forward we're driven, to and fro
Spinning in whirls and long sweeping rushes
Sometimes tossed or just gently swept
Blown back to beginnings or so far afield
But always the wind dries the tears that we've wept
-----
Umm...original. Done for you upon this request.
posted by swimming naked when the tide goes out at 9:28 PM on April 12, 2010 [2 favorites]
Well, for 'far apart' there's always:
Our two souls therefore, which are one,
Though I must go, endure not yet
A breach, but an expansion,
Like gold to aery thinness beat.
If they be two, they are two so
As stiff twin compasses are two ;
Thy soul, the fix'd foot, makes no show
To move, but doth, if th' other do.
And though it in the centre sit,
Yet, when the other far doth roam,
It leans, and hearkens after it,
And grows erect, as that comes home.
Such wilt thou be to me, who must,
Like th' other foot, obliquely run ;
Thy firmness makes my circle just,
And makes me end where I begun.
posted by showbiz_liz at 9:30 PM on April 12, 2010
Our two souls therefore, which are one,
Though I must go, endure not yet
A breach, but an expansion,
Like gold to aery thinness beat.
If they be two, they are two so
As stiff twin compasses are two ;
Thy soul, the fix'd foot, makes no show
To move, but doth, if th' other do.
And though it in the centre sit,
Yet, when the other far doth roam,
It leans, and hearkens after it,
And grows erect, as that comes home.
Such wilt thou be to me, who must,
Like th' other foot, obliquely run ;
Thy firmness makes my circle just,
And makes me end where I begun.
posted by showbiz_liz at 9:30 PM on April 12, 2010
This one (by E.E. Cummings) doesn't ever explicitly speak of distance or fighting, but I think it applies for the sheer physicality.
i like my body when it is with your
body. It is so quite a new thing.
Muscles better and nerves more.
i like your body. i like what it does,
i like its hows. i like to feel the spine
of your body and its bones, and the trembling
-firm-smooth ness and which i will
again and again and again
kiss, i like kissing this and that of you,
i like, slowly stroking the, shocking fuzz
of your electric fur, and what-is-it comes
over parting flesh . . . . And eyes big love-crumbs,
and possibly i like the thrill
of under me you quite so new
posted by SputnikSweetheart at 10:10 PM on April 12, 2010 [8 favorites]
i like my body when it is with your
body. It is so quite a new thing.
Muscles better and nerves more.
i like your body. i like what it does,
i like its hows. i like to feel the spine
of your body and its bones, and the trembling
-firm-smooth ness and which i will
again and again and again
kiss, i like kissing this and that of you,
i like, slowly stroking the, shocking fuzz
of your electric fur, and what-is-it comes
over parting flesh . . . . And eyes big love-crumbs,
and possibly i like the thrill
of under me you quite so new
posted by SputnikSweetheart at 10:10 PM on April 12, 2010 [8 favorites]
At Night
We are apart; the city grows quiet between us,
She hushes herself, for midnight makes heavy her eyes,
The tangle of traffic is ended, the cars are empty,
Five streets divide us, and on them the moonlight lies.
Oh are you asleep, or lying awake, my lover?
Open your dreams to my love and your heart to my words.
I send you my thoughts--the air between us is laden,
My thoughts fly in at your window, a flock of wild birds.
- Sara Teasdale
I Crave Your Mouth
I crave your mouth, your voice, your hair.
Silent and starving, I prowl through the streets.
Bread does not nourish me, dawn disrupts me, all day
I hunt for the liquid measure of your steps.
I hunger for your sleek laugh,
your hands the color of a savage harvest,
hunger for the pale stones of your fingernails,
I want to eat your skin like a whole almond.
I want to eat the sunbeam flaring in your lovely body,
the sovereign nose of your arrogant face,
I want to eat the fleeting shade of your lashes,
and I pace around hungry, sniffing the twilight,
hunting for you, for your hot heart,
like a puma in the barrens of Quitratue.
- Pablo Neruda
Fuck Coltrane and music and clouds drifting in the sky
fuck the sea and trees and the sky and birds
and alligators and all the animals that roam the earth
fuck marx and mao fuck fidel and nkrumah and
democracy and communism fuck smack and pot
and red ripe tomatoes fuck joseph fuck mary fuck
god jesus and all the disciples fuck fanon nixon
and malcom fuck the revolution fuck freedom fuck
the whole muthafucking thing
all i want now is my woman back
so my soul can sing
- excerpt from Feeling Fucked Up by Ethridge Knight
posted by triggerfinger at 1:05 AM on April 13, 2010 [4 favorites]
We are apart; the city grows quiet between us,
She hushes herself, for midnight makes heavy her eyes,
The tangle of traffic is ended, the cars are empty,
Five streets divide us, and on them the moonlight lies.
Oh are you asleep, or lying awake, my lover?
Open your dreams to my love and your heart to my words.
I send you my thoughts--the air between us is laden,
My thoughts fly in at your window, a flock of wild birds.
- Sara Teasdale
I Crave Your Mouth
I crave your mouth, your voice, your hair.
Silent and starving, I prowl through the streets.
Bread does not nourish me, dawn disrupts me, all day
I hunt for the liquid measure of your steps.
I hunger for your sleek laugh,
your hands the color of a savage harvest,
hunger for the pale stones of your fingernails,
I want to eat your skin like a whole almond.
I want to eat the sunbeam flaring in your lovely body,
the sovereign nose of your arrogant face,
I want to eat the fleeting shade of your lashes,
and I pace around hungry, sniffing the twilight,
hunting for you, for your hot heart,
like a puma in the barrens of Quitratue.
- Pablo Neruda
Fuck Coltrane and music and clouds drifting in the sky
fuck the sea and trees and the sky and birds
and alligators and all the animals that roam the earth
fuck marx and mao fuck fidel and nkrumah and
democracy and communism fuck smack and pot
and red ripe tomatoes fuck joseph fuck mary fuck
god jesus and all the disciples fuck fanon nixon
and malcom fuck the revolution fuck freedom fuck
the whole muthafucking thing
all i want now is my woman back
so my soul can sing
- excerpt from Feeling Fucked Up by Ethridge Knight
posted by triggerfinger at 1:05 AM on April 13, 2010 [4 favorites]
Resignation
by Nikki Giovanni
I love you
because you made me
want to love you
more than I love my privacy
my freedom my commitments
and responsibilities
I love you 'cause I changed my life
to love you
because you saw me one friday
afternoon and decided that I would
love you
I love you I love you I love you
(The entire poem, although it doesn't exactly fit your requirements, is great and made for excerpting!)
posted by bluestocking at 6:22 AM on April 13, 2010 [4 favorites]
by Nikki Giovanni
I love you
because you made me
want to love you
more than I love my privacy
my freedom my commitments
and responsibilities
I love you 'cause I changed my life
to love you
because you saw me one friday
afternoon and decided that I would
love you
I love you I love you I love you
(The entire poem, although it doesn't exactly fit your requirements, is great and made for excerpting!)
posted by bluestocking at 6:22 AM on April 13, 2010 [4 favorites]
Best answer: excerpt from margie piercy's "to have without holding":
I can’t do it, you say it’s killing
me, but you thrive, you glow
on the street like a neon raspberry,
You float and sail, a helium balloon
bright bachelor’s button blue and bobbing
on the cold and hot winds of our breath,
as we make and unmake in passionate
diastole and systole the rhythm
of our unbound bonding, to have
and not to hold, to love
with minimized malice, hunger
and anger moment by moment balanced.
posted by nihraguk at 7:52 AM on April 13, 2010 [1 favorite]
I can’t do it, you say it’s killing
me, but you thrive, you glow
on the street like a neon raspberry,
You float and sail, a helium balloon
bright bachelor’s button blue and bobbing
on the cold and hot winds of our breath,
as we make and unmake in passionate
diastole and systole the rhythm
of our unbound bonding, to have
and not to hold, to love
with minimized malice, hunger
and anger moment by moment balanced.
posted by nihraguk at 7:52 AM on April 13, 2010 [1 favorite]
This thread is closed to new comments.
Violets are blue
Although we fight
I still love you
posted by Jacqueline at 7:57 PM on April 12, 2010