love sonnet

A Valentines Day sentiment that transcends the decades: this 1988 painting by Andrew Masullo is made on a found panel and features an excerpt from Edna St. Vincent Millay’s sonnet “What lips my lips have kissed, and where, and why” written in 1920. 

[Andrew Masullo (b. 1957), 1918, 1988. Oil on found wood, 17 7/8 × 15 1/16in. (45.4 × 38.3 cm). Whitney Museum of American Art, New York; promised gift of Thea Westreich Wagner and Ethan Wagner P.2014.23. © Andrew Masullo]

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I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where. I love you simply, without problems or pride; I love you in this way because I do not know any other way of loving you but this, in which there is no I or you, so intimate that your hand upon my chest is my hand, so intimate that when I fall asleep your eyes close. | Pablo Neruda, 100 Love Sonnets

I JUST WANTED TO SAY MEADOW ONCE AND REALLY MEAN IT
TO SAY ( C)LOVER ONCE AND MAYBE ONCE SAY (S)UN AND (PL)UCK
I JUST WANTED TO GO ON WITHOUT WHISPERING: SOUL SOUL SOUL
CAUSE, SO WHAT SOUL, SO FUCKING WHAT?

Olena Kalytiak Davis, from “another sign off,″ Shattered Sonnets, Love Cards, and Other Off and Back Handed Importunities

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Lin-Manuel Miranda's Sonnet/Speech from the 2016 Tonys
UPDATED: I still want this to be true. But this morning in America, 11/9/16, it's pretty clear that fear, anger, and hate have trumped love and tolerance. I ...

“…When senseless acts of tragedy remind us 

That nothing here is promised, not one day.

This show is proof that history remembers

We’ve lived through times when hate and fear seemed stronger;

We rise and fall and light from dying embers, remembrances that hope and love last longer

And love is love is love is love is love is love is love is love cannot be killed or swept aside…”

- Lin-Manuel Miranda

I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where. I love you simply, without problems or pride: I love you in this way because I do not know any other way of loving but this, in which there is no I or you, so intimate that your hand upon my chest is my hand, so intimate that when I fall asleep your eyes close.
—  Pablo Neruda, 100 Love Sonnets
Sonnet’s Dawn

-Madlib Sonnet #2

Paradise strained, hearts like bats in black caves
A love, pressed in books, summer sunset thoughts  
The skies condensed, like life inching toward graves
A heart whittled down, so desperate to clot

You at my desk, asking me to go out
Me nodding, bolting inside like rabbits
Tell me I’m just fine, soothe my inner doubts
Entwine hands, drag me to dreams, not habits

Let’s wear lockets like love can be contained
Sing, la la la, like it’s a journey’s end
Look at me like I’m the spring, hoped-for rain
Let me dance in your eyes like hope’s the trend

Is it too much to belong on this earth?
Let’s dance like one’s expectations rebirth!

@katrinnac

They’re favorite color is gold,
and with a religion named materialism
they’re lively and bold,
and they meet everything with cynicism.

Prim and proper as she,
She holds weekend bashes and parties,
down the hatch with scotch and whiskey,
she will forever live in her twenties.

Ambition is his middle name,
unwittingly kind yet fake,
it seems to me he plays you like a game,
and only he knows what move to take.

The Earth signs, as prim and proper as it gets,
they’re more than what their description merits.

—  Earth Sonnet

You sing, and your voice peels the husk
of the day’s grain, your song with the sun and sky,
the pine trees speak with their green tongue:
all the birds of the winter whistle.

The sea fills its cellar with footfalls,
with bells, chains, whimpers,
the tools and the metals jangle,
wheels of the caravan creak.

But I hear only your voice, your voice
soars with the zing and precision of an arrow,
it drops with the gravity of rain,

your voice scatters the highest swords
and returns with its cargo of violets:
it accompanies me through the sky.

Lll, Pablo Neruda