Poetry about gay love
Love is Love - an LGBTQ Poem
Poem - Love is: For James and Stuart on your Engagement x
I wrote this poem, Like is Love, a few years ago now, and it has been sat in my notes, waiting for today - the afternoon when James (my wonderfully supportive and caring big Brother in Law) finally became engaged to Stuart (the male who secretly filled my biscuit tin with chocolate biscuits and my freezer with ice cream at the terminate of his call on - if that doesn't tell you what a pleasant person he is, I don't realize what will). There aren't many things in life which can fill your heart with bliss and settle your soul like the moment you realise that someone you care about has found someone who really cares about them and appreciate all moments of high emotion, words tumbled through my mind in rhyme form, waiting to be written So here it isLove is Love - A poem
True cherish isn't love if it fits in a mould
It doesn't come in shapes or sizes
True care for just arrives and takes hold
It wraps its arms around you and doesn't let go
It changes your journey - and that's how you know
One day you could be
The Poem That Changed My Life: Ross Gay&#;s "Bringing the Shovel Down"
Not so very long ago&#;five years perhaps&#;I opened the pages of a book and began to read a poem that entirely reconfigured my notions of what a poem can accomplish. The poem was Ross Gay&#;s &#;Bringing the Shovel Down.&#; And, as is so often the case with world-transforming revelations, the encounter also hit me with the force of profoundest remembering: Here was an instance, a glorious, exfoliating instance, of all I had always hoped and believed about the ways and wherewithal of art. &#;Because I adore you,&#; begins this poem, &#;and beneath the uncountable stars / I possess become the delicate piston threading itself through your chest, // I crave to tell you a story I shouldn&#;t but will&#;&#;
Because I love you. The stakes are tall, at once both intimate and mysterious: Who is this &#;you&#;? Who is speaking to the &#;you&#;? What has either of them to do with me? Everything, says the poem, as it moves through the vastness of the starry sky to the inwardness of the pulse in the breast with the hook tha
Mirrored Angels
I think he's there but
I can't be sure.
Can anyone be sure
Of themselves,
Or can they
Just lie convincingly
Next to one another,
Two boys lay on their chests
Fingers blooming out towards
The Others. No contact
Their heads averted
They lie, as mirrored angels
Unshifting, so they don't spill blood
From their backs
On the snow
It's easier to be close someone
If you don't have to look.
You don't have to feel
Blue snow on your wound
Or red hands in yours
Or the relief that feels red-black
Like the color of your eyelids.
closing my eyes
And looking makes me feel
The closest I can to seeing inside
My mind, and it's all bouncing dots
And swirling pink-blue-red-black-white.
I want to be a flower
Because they don't have eyes
To close. I want to be a flower
Because they need only be open
To the sky, and the sky loves them.
The sky rains when they are closed and
When they are blooming, the sky
Shines light through their petals
And says,
I love the way you glow.
Two people that love each other but own both made mistakes hurting the other
#love#heartbreak#
LGBTQ Poetry
Explore the prosperous tradition of gay, dyke, bisexual, transgender, and lgbtq+ poets and poetry by browsing a selection of poems & audio. For more essays, video, and ephemera, check out our Pride Month roundup.
Featured Poems
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