Passion poems from famous poets and best beautiful poems to feel good. Best passion poems ever written. Read all poems about passion.
It may be misery not to sing at all,
And to go silent through the brimming day;
It may be misery never to be loved,
But deeper griefs than these beset the way.
How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.
I love thee to the depth and breadth and height
Sweet, I blame you not, for mine the fault was, had I not been made of common
I had climbed the higher heights unclimbed yet, seen the fuller air, the
The red rose whispers of passion,
And the white rose breathes of love;
O, the red rose is a falcon,
And the white rose is a dove.
Any soul that drank the nectar of your passion was lifted.
From that water of life he is in a state of elation.
OFT have we trod the vales of Castaly
And heard sweet notes of sylvan music blown
From antique reeds to common folk unknown:
Elizabeth it is in vain you say
'Love not' — thou sayest it in so sweet a way:
In vain those words from thee or L. E. L.
Zantippe's talents had enforced so well:
Beloveds, now we know that we know nothing
Now that our bright and shining star can slip away from our fingertips like a puff of summer wind
Without notice, our dear love can escape our doting embrace
A woman's face with Nature's own hand painted
Hast thou, the master-mistress of my passion;
A woman's gentle heart, but not acquainted
With shifting change, as is false women's fashion;
By the time you swear you're his,
Shivering and sighing,
And he vows his passion is
Infinite, undying -
Exiled on the isle of passion and shackled in the prison of craving.
Bottled up emotion - screaming and shouting and searching for an escape.
Like a dehydrated deer tracking water -Like a desert hunting an oasis.
Deluge of flames enrapture my being with the fervor of a thousand fire.
For one brief golden moment rare like wine,
The gracious city swept across the line;
Oblivious of the color of my skin,
Forgetting that I was an alien guest,
Soul rejoices by enlightened grace,
virile breeze smooches passion by mirth
heart touches tunes even million miles apart
earthly rhythm seems to reel thorough red
Love is apart from all things.
Desire and excitement are nothing beside it.
It is not the body that finds love.
What leads us there is the body.
It is not given to every man to take a bath of multitude; enjoying a crowd is an art; and only he can relish a debauch of vitality at the expense of the human species, on whom, in his cradle, a fairy has bestowed the love of masks and masquerading, the hate of home, and the passion for roaming.
Multitude, solitude: identical terms, and interchangeable by the active and fertile poet. The man who is unable to people his solitude is equally unable to be alone in a bustling crowd.
What is our life? A play of passion,
Our mirth the music of division,
Our mother's wombs the tiring-houses be,
Where we are dressed for this short comedy.
'Mid the discordant noises of the day I hear thee calling;
I stumble as I fare along Earth's way; keep me from falling.
Mine eyes are open but they cannot see for gloom of night:
'Oh, dear with best thighs, heart-stealing is this environ with abundantly grown stacks of rice and their cobs, or with sugarcane, and it is reverberated with the screeches of ruddy gees that abide hither and thither... now heightened will be passion, thereby this season will be gladdening for lusty womenfolk, hence listen of this season, called Shishira, the Winter...
'At this time, people enjoy abiding in the medial places of their residences, whose ventilators are blockaded for the passage of chilly air, and at fireplaces, in sunrays, with heavy clothing, and along with mature women of age, for they too will be passionately steamy...
And the priestess spoke again and said: "Speak to us of Reason and Passion."
And he answered saying:
Elements combine, Reactions ignite passion, Chemistry's dance.
Passion is suffering, passion is pain,
Passion can drive us insane,
Passion is intense feeling, passion is selfless gain,
Passion is the exhilaration of the game,
Rhea! I fell in love with you at the first sight and passion
Since a week, you have become my heart's delight and passion
How I can forget all the essential parts of my life?
From the childhood on I have been seeing the misty hill stations;
Still I have not lost its muse quite amazing to recollect in leisure times;
Green meadows and lakes the passion I have on them I have not lost even today;
Nature of such places is great wonder and passion for me quite unshakable!
The glow of story doubles
As the season of
Possessed spirit bubbles.
In Alexander the great,
welled ample passion.
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