The second month of the year is filled with love and, who would’ve guessed, Valentine’s Day. Yes, I’m still riding that high ten days later. I think it should also be filled with poetry. But then again, what month shouldn’t be.
To me, there is nothing more romantic than words or sexier than syntax. To invent sentences in an attempt to replicate the beauty and adoration an individual sees in another simply could not make my heart flutter more. Whether I’m just a romantic or simply a nerd about poetry, I adore love and every work of writing I can relate back to it.
My favorite of all: poems
Here is my favorite romantic poetry to properly send off the month of love.
“Annabel Lee” by Edgar Allan Poe
I readily admit my unhealthy attachment to Poe. His way with both the macabre and rhyme have gotten me through many a rainy night. So of course, the timeless Annabel Lee, filled with passion so strong that the very angels in heaven were jealous, has me wishing for someone to lie down beside for “all the night-tide.” And, if “to love and be loved by me” isn’t enough to set the mood, there’s a spoken version by Matthew Gray Gubler that will get the job done.
“[i carry your heart with me(i carry it in]“ by E. E. Cummings
I am unfortunately one of those people who still types with auto caps turned off, despite being 20 years old. That being said, E. E. Cummings has never seemed to turn me off. I tend to read the words in the poem separately (from what’s in parentheses) like a conversation between two characters, which gives it a certain charm. Whether you read it as vows or whispers between lovers, it sounds good. Not to demote Cummings to this level, but reading it as a conversation also sort of gives me war flashbacks from my Wattpad days (embarrassing, I know). Something about that romantic dialogue does it for me every time.
“A Ballad: The Lake of the Dismal Swamp” by Thomas Moore
If your lover romps where “man never trod before,” chasing after you, that’s how you know it’s real. Moore describes passion, the chase, the desire. Y’all say until death do you part, Moore says not even that will taint his love.
“31” by Sappho
“no: tongue breaks and thin / fire is racing under skin” — is it hot in here, or is it just me? Similar to her, shaking is gripping me as I cling to every word of this poem. While this is the most antiquated poem I’m featuring, true love — the kind where “no speaking is left in me” — never gets old. What I adore about Sappho poetry is the variety of translations. This one, to me, seems as though she writes with jealousy, he is not a god to be admired, but one to envy (as he’s probably going to steal her true lover away). Ignoring my toxic pretenses, I think jealousy and envy is considerably romantic. Sappho knows what I mean!
“To One in Paradise” by Edgar Allan Poe
Sorry guys, Poe had to pop up one more time. He’s the guy that always keeps me coming back for more. You can’t judge me, we’ve all been there! I’m beginning to realize a good chunk of the poems I chose feature death in a prominent role. When considering the history of Saint Valentine’s Day, a February staple, that probably makes a lot of sense. I’m not sure what that says about me, but I’m not mad about it either. Poe solidifies the reality that a month of love isn’t complete without a broken heart. But, a broken heart never felt so good.
Related Stories:
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- A “love letter” to my roommate (but don’t get used to it) DeJamz
- Staying warm DeJamz
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