Romantic Poetry - Blog Posts

Love means you give them their freedom to choose if they want to stay or if they want to leave. But if you truly love them, you do everything you can to show them and give them all the reasons to want to stay.

Romantic poets’ dnd classes

William Wordsworth - Druid. Absolutely obsessed with nature. Will spend hours staring at a single tree believes in nothing except the power of nature. 

Dorothy Wordsworth - fighter. She gets shit done herself. Respects nature and all but a little more grounded than her brother. 

Coleridge - warlock. Oh boy. His whole thing is the power of the imagination, being wishy washy with religion, opium addict, really erratic but also incredibly likeable. He would totally make a pact. 

Keats - grave Cleric. A literal doctor. But a doctor who had to deal with watching his family die from disease. Has a very complicated relationship with death, pretty emo but also a puppy dog. Keats is bae. 

Lord Byron - bard. Need I say more? 

Percy Shelley - rogue. Politically radical and just a social mess. 

Mary Shelley - wizard. Too good for Percy and just a genius. Fascinated by magic and wants to test her limits all the time and DELIVERS. 

Bonus novelist:

Jane Austen - Tough choice but I think she suits bard best. Witty and observant, knows what to say when, detail oriented, never forgets.

Coleridge x Wordsworth

WHY DO PEOPLE NOT SHIP WORDSWORTH AND COLERIDGE.

- met and instantly connected

- fucking followed each other across the country for years. First coleridge moved to be with Wordsworth, then Wordsworth to coleridge. One of them got kicked out of town (because drama) and the other followed and like, come on. Just cuz your bff has to move like an hour away you don’t pack up your life and follow them. 

- Dorothy wrote about how they met literally everyday and talked about poetry and philosophy and COMPLETED EACH OTHER’S WORKS because they were that in sync

- they made a book of poetry together. personal and professionally compatible. Lyrical ballads, the iconic collab.

- the authorities actually got involved because neighbours were super suspicious they were political radicals plotting something and, no, not at the moment, but you know valid concern with these guys. If rainbow rowell has taught me anything it’s that “plotting” really means “gay” and given the time calling the authorities on the super domestic and romantic guys next door really isn’t that far off

- and like “This Lime-Tree Bower My Prison”?? I know Coleridge directly refers to Charles Lamb but like. If you were pining and trying not to broadcast your sexuality to the world including your wife wouldn’t you be a little subversive? He’s just whining lovingly about not being able to go for a walk together and how Nature will bring them together in spirit and if that’s not the sweetest, tragically gay thing ever. 

- their relationship really fell apart once Wordsworth finally got married and he got fed up with Coleridge’s opium addiction and constant womanizing

- they lived the rest of their lives very publicly hating their wives and not really speaking

- I just gotta add Wordsworth and Dorothy? THE BEST SIBLINGS EVER. 

(this has been the most distracting thing ever while trying to study them for my romantic lit final pls tell me I’m not the only one)

Es war, als hätt' der Himmel

Die Erde still geküsst,

Dass sie im Blütenschimmer

Von ihm nun träumen müsst'.

Die Luft ging durch die Felder,

Die Ähren wogten sacht,

Es rauschten leis' die Wälder,

So sternklar war die Nacht.

Und meine Seele spannte

Weit ihre Flügel aus,

Flog durch die stillen Lande,

Als flöge sie nach Haus.

- "Mondnacht", von Joseph von Eichendorff (1837)

"I loved you past your skin" By Astrum

i didn’t fall for your body — i fell for the way your silence trembled when you trusted me to hear it. i loved you past your skin, past the curve of your lips and the softness of your breath. i loved the cracks in your voice when the world grew too heavy, the storms in your eyes when you were too tired to smile, and the ache in your soul that you tried so hard to hide. Don’t you see? i was not memorizing your body— i was memorizing the map of your hurt. because love, i did not come to touch you like a tourist touches a city— i came to live inside you, the way a poem lives in the chest long after the page is burned. You were not a body to me. you were a home i wanted to return to, over and over, even when the doors were locked. — and baby, i still have the keys.

-The sun rises with you

+And I'm sinking with you.

so hold me on the way down,

and do me no harm,

i cause myself enough injury

from day to day, love

suspended in a bubble of hiraeth

the tear frozen on my cheek

in the subzero sunlight,

my home is a person,

and they are too far from me

I am holding my bloody heart out to you, my hands stained with red from holding it for so long.

and while you are not the person who ripped it out of my chest,

you are the person I am trusting to take care of it.

maybe you can put it back in for me.

was it not enough that you stole

my heart, my lungs, and spine?

i do not have the stomach for it anymore.

itch.io

TOWER VOL. 1: END by TOWER

An anthology where things come to an end.

My poem "Mr Keats is ill" features in VOL. 1: END of Tower Magazine. Available for purchase and/or download now!

SOMEONE COOKED HERE

Oh god, why did I ever think I was going to end up with a man? Women have everything that men don't. Understanding, a gentle hand, the softness of their lips and their hearts. There is nothing quite like laughing with a girl like you are best friends, thinking of her as if you have been married for decades, holding her like your favorite childhood stuffed animal, and kissing her like you could sustain yourself for the rest of your life simply on the sweetness of your mixed breath. Fingers in her hair, her head on your chest, love in both of your eyes that only the other will ever see. Make her a bracelet, find her a rock, gift her her favorite snack. Freedom in your airy laughter. Certainty in the matching beats of your hearts. You know everything about each other and remember every little detail; you are in love and unwaningly so.

Poems for a summer day:

Emily Dickinson

(my favourite poet)

A something In a summer's day

Summer shower

Further In summer than the birds

As sleigh bells seem In summer

It can't be "Summer"!

Summer for thee, grant I maybe

It will be Summer - eventually

I taste a liquor never brewed (the best poem ever)

The one who could repeat the summer day

What shall I do when the summer troubles

Ourselves were wed one summer - dear

So much summer

I know a place were summer strives

Would you like summer? Taste of ours.

There came a day at summer's full

Her final summer was it

Twice had summer her fair verdure

The trees like tassel - hit and swung by

John Keats

The Human Seasons

On the grasshopper and cricket

Shakespeare

Shall I compare thee to a Summer's Day

Over hill, over dale - from A Midsummer Night’s Dream

William Wordsworth

Book Fourth [Summer Vacation]

Daffodils (not about summer, but gives me summer vibes)

The Solitary Reaper (again, not about summer, but gives me summer vibes)

Langston Hughes

Summer Night (not about summer, but brilliant poem)

Pablo Neruda

100 Love Sonnets

Poem XVI

Poem LI

Poem XCII

Charles Baudelaire

L’invitation au voyage

Amalgamation of Poems

(these poems are grouped in amalgamation not because they are in anyway less relevant than the others above, the poems below have not been read by me or had been read long ago.)

Moonlight, Summer Moonlight by Emily Jane Brontë

June by John Updike

Love Song, 31st July by Richard Osmond

Apples by Laurie Lee

Warm Summer Sun by Mark Twain

A Boat Beneath a Sunny Sky by Lewis Carroll

Fireflies in the Garden by Robert Frost

Midsummer, Tobago by Derek Walcott

A Green Thought by Katharine Towers

Adlestrop by Edward Thomas

When we got to the beach by Hollie McNish

Summer Stars by Carl Sandburg

Before Summer Rain by Rainer Maria Rilke

Morningside Heights, July by William Matthews

Miracles by Walt Whitman

Bed in Summer by Robert Louis Stevenson

Summer night, riverside by Sara Teasdale

The Idea of Order at Key West by Wallace Stevens

In Summer by Paul Laurence Dunbar

For once, then, something by Robert Frost

Summer Holiday by Robinson Jeffers

A boy and his dad by Edgar Guest

Long Island Sound by Emma Lazarus

Bath by Amy Lowell

Summer Morn in New Hampshire by Claude McKay

In the Mountains on a Summer day by Li Bai (personal favourite)

Backyard by Carl Sandburg

Idyll by Siegfried Sassoon

If you get there Before I do by Dick Allen

Fishing on the Susquehanna in July by Billy Collins

Indian Summer by Dorothy Parker

Fragment 31 (Jealousy) by Sappho (brilliant poem)

Constantinople by Lady Mary Wortley Montagu

Green by Paul Verlaine

From the Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyám, quatrain IX

To Natasha by Alexander Sergeyevich Pushkin

[These poems have an aspect of summer and definitely, most of them have addressed deeper issues through the appearance of a beautiful imagery of summer. This has been created from my own reading experience, google websites and recommendations from friends and professors. If you want me to add anything more, leave an ask or comment. Enjoy these beautiful poems and no hate please.]

Letter #31

I wanted to tell myself that it's all part of the process, but now, I know this isn't what healing feels like.

Date Written: 18th of October, 2023

Letter #28

"You mean something to me, But yours or anyone else's care does not." Such simple, unassuming words Words ordinarily placed that would seem so innocent Yet, they come from you They come from you and that breaks me From you, they come with an unintentional, cruel, agonizing truth The words I hoped to hear one day Those three little words laced in honey so sickly sweet I will never hear them Not in the way I need to, anyway Never in the way I need to Love is not just a feeling It is a deep seated rule that we plead with at night It is a peace encased with care I would live for you, I would die for you I would give it all in a heartbeat But you don't wish for that So I exist amongst separate breaths Quietly, with promise To love is to know the person I see And the person that stands in front of me Despite their shared love of the number 8 Despite their infectious laughter echoing the same chorus Are entirely different beings One of them I will never know Both, I choose to love I helplessly love I unavoidably, inevitably love You are you, and I love you I love you without need for reciprocation I love you with only good will To love is to know I will never see you completely And indulge in what bliss it is to adore the shadows "You mean something to me, But yours or anyone else's care does not." To say that hearing those words All while knowing love stems from care That love is treasuring another's words and being Didn't hurt? I cannot lie. Simply, I love you Eight little letters laced in fiction so densely dreamt Words I wish I could hear spoken from your lips Truthfully, wholly, willingly You and your care mean everything to me. I only wish that I didn't have the sense to know I'm alone

Date Written: 26th of July, 2023

Letter #24

Please rip this heart from within my chest

Just as you carelessly tore your way inside

Begging for mercy, please, let me breathe

My dear, you must be a skilled sadist

I cannot handle another thought of you

Falling seems an apt term for it indeed

Yet you smile brightly, so wholly unaware

As I pull at strings asking how this is fair

Painfully puzzling with no answers to find

Accepting that maybe, just maybe

Between us, peace was never an option

Date Written: 17th of September 2023

Letter #17

Make me talk, make me sing Wash away everything Teeth on skin is the answer Meld me into flickering amber Design my body, change it's shape Run your fingers by my nape Melted through this simple touch Have my knees return to mush Break me, remake me Swear an oath, a loyal devotee As long as morning never comes Let us exist amongst loving hums

Date Written: 2nd of September, 2023

Your river by the oak tree

has turned molten gold again,

as the glowing orb of light and life surrenders to the sapphire sky.

The cotton clouds float in shy, pink circles

While the rush of the river awakens a memory I had long forgotten,

When this same tree once bore luscious flowers,

Their scent wafting lazily into the cool breeze,

While we sat and reminisced about the possibility of other lives in the universe,

Under the silver moon.

A lot has changed since then.

Since the night we met.

~Me

i know not the kind of love i wish to feel with you

but oh how i wish to be madly in love with you and i, as one

*  𝕸𝖞  𝕽𝖊𝖑𝖎𝖌𝖎𝖔𝖓  *

𝕴 𝖜𝖆𝖓𝖙 𝖙𝖔 𝖇𝖚𝖗𝖞 𝖞𝖔𝖚 𝕴 𝖜𝖆𝖓𝖙 𝖞𝖔𝖚 𝖎𝖓𝖘𝖎𝖉𝖊 𝖒𝖞 𝖈𝖗𝖞𝖕𝖙 𝖔𝖚𝖗 𝖘𝖔𝖚𝖑𝖘 𝖐𝖊𝖊𝖓𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝕸𝖞 𝖔𝖜𝖓 𝖗𝖊𝖑𝖎𝖌𝖎𝖔𝖓 𝕸𝖞 𝖒𝖊𝖘𝖘𝖎𝖆𝖍 𝖈𝖗𝖔𝖜𝖓𝖊𝖉 𝖎𝖓 𝖒𝖞 𝖆𝖗𝖒𝖘 𝕮𝖗𝖚𝖈𝖎𝖋𝖎𝖊𝖉 𝖎𝖓 𝖒𝖞 𝖜𝖔𝖒𝖇 𝕴 𝖊𝖆𝖙 𝖔𝖋 𝖞𝖔𝖚𝖗 𝖇𝖔𝖉𝖞 𝖆 𝖍𝖚𝖓𝖌𝖊𝖗 𝖙𝖍𝖆𝖙'𝖘 𝖊𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖓𝖆𝖑 𝖆 𝖍𝖊𝖆𝖛𝖊𝖓 𝖎𝖓 𝖒𝖆𝖓 𝕴 𝖕𝖗𝖆𝖞 𝖙𝖔 𝖞𝖔𝖚 𝖄𝖔𝖚, 𝖒𝖞 𝖘𝖆𝖑𝖛𝖆𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓 𝖄𝖔𝖚, 𝖒𝖞 𝖍𝖞𝖒𝖓 𝖄𝖔𝖚, 𝖒𝖞 𝖉𝖎𝖛𝖎𝖓𝖎𝖙𝖞 𝖄𝖔𝖚, 𝖒𝖞 𝖑𝖎𝖛𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖍𝖊𝖑𝖑