Three ways to write a love poem

Poems and prompts on love. Poetry (pen) Pals #54

Have you ever tried to write a love poem?

I think if we’ve tried to write poetry in any way, shape or form then at some point we have probably tried to write a love poem. Even if we didn’t mean to write a love poem. How can we have not?

But in the strictest sense of the word: A poem that wouldn’t be out of place in an anthology about love.

Ooh it’s tricky. Maybe my question should’ve been - have you ever tried and failed miserably at writing a love poem, ha. Or maybe that’s just me.

Writing love poems can come with trip hazards like cliche and over-sentimentality. It’s as if the feelings associated with love are the ones we are most in tune with or aware of, which then doesn’t necessarily translate to interesting poetry. Or at least not without some work. Thinking about it, I’m not sure love poems have done much for the genre’s reputation. I’m pretty sure when I mention that I write poetry (to the outside world) some people still conjure up images of vomit-inducing verses scrawled in pink hearted cards with cute teddybears on the front.

Anyway, before I completely put you off (and myself off) from trying again, I thought I’d slip nicely into my own cliche and write a post about love poems on the week of Valentines Day (thank you, thank you).

Because although they’re slippery little beggars, when you read one that gets it right, ooh isn’t it a wonderful thing.

Here are three poems that you probably won’t read on any ‘roundup of the greatest love poems’ type lists. Or in any cards landing through your letterbox. And with each one I’ve shared a writing prompt that might just provide some inspiration to get the pen out.

Let me tell you that I need that this week. My ‘Year of 100 Poems’ has started SLOWLY. I’m not panicking. I’m just asking for a few love poems to make their way onto my page.

Anyway, not one, not two but three writing prompts because I looooove you being here (seriously, who even am I?)

Nelly x

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Song, by Tracy K Smith

This is ‘Song’ by Tracy K. Smith, from the book, 'Life on Mars’. Isn’t it great?

A writing prompt:

Write a poem after Tracy K. Smith. Write in quiet contemplation about someone (or something) you love and go deep into the detail of one part of their body or maybe even one thing that they do, one element of their personality. If it helps, you could begin with the same line as a way in. “I think of your…”

When I came on to add this poem to the post I also then found it here OnBeing with

Pádraig Ó Tuama

. So you can also listen to it being read by him (always a treat) and get some more analysis that might inspire you further?

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Good Mum Fallacy

There are days when I’m the parent who has cut up the carrots into batons and not left the shoe buying until they’ve complained that they have wet feet. The parent who purees pear and doesn't forget PE days, washes the bedding weekly and manages to do a plait in someones hair.

But most days, that’s not me. And that’s o.k. Because you see

when I ask my children, “guess how much I love you?” they groan because they've heard the answer a million times before. Or they laugh and snuggle in to be told again because they know that smell of someone you love right up against your nose, because they’re used to getting lost in hugs that leave them wanting nothing more.

Because they know that they can run ahead and if it ends in disaster I will be there with a tissue to help clean their knees. Because we have a ‘special kiss’ we do in the playground before anybody else sees. Because the other day I heard them say, glancing over at me with a grin, that in our family we do Friday Night Film Night - “it’s just our thing.”

I know that the rabbit teddy sits on the pillow just to the right, that after stories I can’t pass the hall without switching on the light. They know that asking me to check back on them is something they don’t have to ask at all. That if they tell me they can’t sleep and relay their biggest fears, that I’ll make us both hot milk, a hand will always reach for their cheek when it is damp with tears.

And so yes, I’d like to play games every night rather than rushing to make tea, and I’d like it if I didn’t always forget that the nursery bag needs restocking after some sort of rogue wee, and I’d like to not feel that a portion of my parenting is counting down the minutes until tv. But that’s not the reality.

And that’s o.k. Because for me

what I am is the parent who’s let go of a “right way”, who might be terrified and tired but will still shout, “look at the full moon” at the end of a long day, who will be lay in their bed or stood at the door (probably surrounded by dirty washing all over the floor) hovering, whispering, always making sure that they know what it feels like to be loved.

Every night I kiss their heads. But they’re asleep so they don’t see.

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Your Writing Prompt:

This is an old poem of mine which I dug out after finding this quote written in my journal:

“Love is really a ritual, the sacred art of showing up despite it all, in this glorious, gorgeous world.”

Kerri ní Dochartaigh

Love is really a ritual. The ritual of showing up.

Can you think of any rituals in your life that might demonstrate love in action? Could one of them form the basis of a poem?

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This poem is by Jo Brandon from the book, ‘A poetic primer for love and seduction’ published by The Emma Press.

I like how the title immediately let’s us know that we are in for a ride. This is not going to be a simpering love poem by someone tentatively asking us to swoon. There’s humour in this poem, “are you ever excited by shopping lists,’ and “a cigarette butt to the heart.” But don’t get comfortable, these are surrounded by devastating truths, “you must accept all true love is cut short.”

The structure of the poem is what I thought we could borrow.

A writing prompt:

Imagine if someone asked you what you had learnt about love over the years, could you pull together three lessons? Could you try out delivering your lessons with conviction.

Side note: I wonder why Jo Brandon chose to use the full spelling, ‘one’ followed by numbers, ‘2 and 3’?

You could try and inject some humour of your own, or make it deep and meaningful.

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Hope one of these sparks something for you this week. If you want to save this post to come back to, a reminder that ALL the prompts can be found here.

Right, I’m off to write a poem about the ritual of caring for my plants.

Until next week xxx