Alright, this is the final love poem post, well almost. Thanks for reading, listening along. And a special thanks to those of you who shared your own favorite love poems as well. There were five official poems in the series Love Poems You Wish You Had Written, both here and in Suzie Grogan’s companion series on No Wriggling Out of Writing, for a total of ten. Both of us threw a few extras in here at the end though. Later Monday I’ll really post the final related poem for the season as A Love Poem I Actually Wrote, as well as a complete and orderly link list to the whole combined series.
How about we end the weekend, or start the week, depending on where in the world you are, with a few loving scraps left over from our Valentine’s feast of love poetry. I would have liked to have fit these in, but they are each short enough to include almost at a glance.
Hey, keep spreading the love. You don’t need a greeting card holiday to do that, you know.
COME. AND BE MY BABY
by Maya AngelouThe highway is full of big cars going nowhere fast
And folks is smoking anything that’ll burn
Some people wrap their lives around a cocktail glass
And you sit wondering
where you’re going to turn.
I got it.
Come. And be my baby.Some prophets say the world is gonna end tomorrow
But others say we’ve got a week or two
The paper is full of every kind of blooming horror
And you sit wondering
what you’re gonna do.
I got it.
Come. And be my baby.From Maya Angelou’s Poems
Copyright © 1996, Bantam Books
A DRINKING SONG
by William Butler YeatsWine comes in at the mouth
And love comes in at the eye;
That’s all we shall know for truth
Before we grow old and die.
I lift the glass to my mouth,
I look at you, and I sigh.(1910)
I WISH IN THE CITY OF YOUR HEART
by Robley WilsonI wish in the city of your heart
you would let me be the street
where you walk when you are most
yourself. I imagine the houses:
It has been raining, but the rain
is done and the children kept home
have begun opening their doors.Originally published in The Invisible Ladder
Copyright © 1996 by Robley Wilson
Reprinted in Poetry 180
Copyright © 2003 by Billy Collins
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David J. Bauman 
Lovely, as are the Mathew MacFadyen readings. I posted Tom Hiddleston ( a young actor who causes many hearts to flutter in the UK) reading Bright Star last week and it is incredible how different readings of the same poem can have such an effect on one’s appreciation of it. Older recordings were all terribly theatrical and more recent ones much more natural (which I prefer). And you know how I love your reading voice. It is how I discovered your blog after all! Again, thank you for the inspiration.
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Hiddleston’s reading is gorgeous, but it might make a few traditionalists uncomfortable. Had to loosen my collar. 😉 Maybe that’s what it is, it’s casual but more intimate. Thank you for your compliment. I actually go through a lot of takes sometimes, trying to get the right feel, mood, inflection, without over-doing it. So I truly truly appreciate your feedback.
Oh, and you are more than welcome. It was my pleasure. As we said elsewhere, what’s next? 🙂
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Beginning the week with romantic poems is a fine start indeed.
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🙂
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…very alluring… each of ’em… but i specially like the one by Yeats… i fell in love to it in the first read and now i wanted to do it again… and again… and perhaps again… good job on the reading too… the one by Maya Angelou is special too… it kind of speaks to me about bothering too much on less sensible thoughts like the doomsday forgetting the rather most important thing of all which is love… and love… and nothing but love… smiles…
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Ah, Kelvin, how sweet of you to tell me all this. I am so glad the poems touched you. Yes, that Yeats one has been a favorite of mine for years, and I think you aptly put into words just what I like about Maya’s piece. It does realign one’s priorities, doesn’t it? That’s one of the best reminders my Brian has been for me.
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I think Maya is quite uneven; often her poetry leaves me quite neutral, and I don’t get it. But sometimes, like with “I know why the caged bird sings” and like with this one you read, she’s marvellous. I suppose nobody can touch everybody always though.
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Yeah, there was this poet who was touching me all the time, and finally I had to call the cops. But no, seriously, I know what you mean.That’s a common reaction to her work it seems. It might be that times she has a very specific audience, or it might be that her work is very dependent on vocal performance. I haven’t decided yet. I have thought of going back to some of her poems that didn’t lift me so much, and try reading them out loud. There don’t seem to be enough recordings of her poetry in her voice, but god, I love the way she recites “Still I Rise.”
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I went to look up “I know why the caged bird sings” and I found another poem by a black poet called Paul Laurence Dunbar. Here’s Tom O’Bedlam’s reading of it.
But it’s not the same as the Angelou poem. Strange. But good!
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Ah,which poem is a response to which? Interesting, I’ll have to go back and check out Maya’s. It’s been a while.
Sometimes I feel that Tom could read to me the phone book and I’d be entranced, or maybe the menu at McDonald’s, and it would be lovely. But this is one of those poems that could be read by a talentless fool and I would love it.
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