50 Best Love Poems for Her

Poetry and celebrations of love go hand in hand, which is why we’ve created a collection of 50 inspirational love poems for her. Whether you’re looking for some verses for a wedding reading, honouring an engagement, celebrating an anniversary, or simply looking for the perfect way to say I love you, these love poems will help you capture your feelings in a romantic and unique way.

In our collection – of traditional and contemporary ideas – you’ll find everything from short love poems for her to heartfelt love poems for her that evoke joy. There are falling in love poems for the dreamers, romance poems for the romantics, and how much I love you poems for her for those moments when you want to express something special.

And let’s not forget the timeless love poems for your wife to make her cry – these are the verses that will stay in your heart and mind long after the words are read.

We’ve also gathered some of our favourite love poems for her from her. Written by women, these poems beautifully celebrate the diversity of love and its infinite expressions. From heartfelt mini love poems to sweeping declarations, they show the power of poetry when it's expressed in an authentic voice.

But this isn’t just a collection to read – it’s an invitation to write something yourself. Let these poems inspire you to pick up a pen and craft a love poem for her that speaks directly from your heart.

Love poems For Her: 50 Favourite Picks

Dive into our collection of love poems for her to embrace the joy of love, and find the perfect poems of love for her to make her smile, laugh, or even cry (the happy kind). These wonderful poems are inspirational and will help you to feel creative and romantic enough to put pen to paper and craft your own very special heartfelt words.

1. A Red, Red Rose by Robert Burns
My love is like a red, red rose
That's newly sprung in June;
My love is like the melody
That's sweetly played in tune.
As fair art thou, my bonnie lass,
So deep in love am I;
And I will love thee still, my dear,
Till a' the seas gang dry.
Till a' the seas gang dry, my dear,
And the rocks melt wi' the sun;
And I will love thee still, my dear,
While the sands o' life shall run.
And fare thee weel, my only love!
And fare thee weel a while!
And I will come again, my love,
Thou' it were ten thousand mile.

2. A Birthday by Christina Rossetti
My heart is like a singing bird
Whose nest is in a watered shoot;
My heart is like an apple-tree
Whose boughs are bent with thick-set fruit;
My heart is like a rainbow shell
That paddles in a halcyon sea;
My heart is gladder than all these
Because my love is come to me.

Raise me a dais of silk and down;
Hang it with vair and purple dyes;
Carve it in doves and pomegranates,
And peacocks with a hundred eyes;
Work it in gold and silver grapes,
In leaves and silver fleurs-de-lys;
Because the birthday of my life
Is come, my love is come to me. 

2. A Birthday by Christina Rossetti
My heart is like a singing bird
Whose nest is in a watered shoot;
My heart is like an apple-tree
Whose boughs are bent with thick-set fruit;
My heart is like a rainbow shell
That paddles in a halcyon sea;
My heart is gladder than all these
Because my love is come to me.

Raise me a dais of silk and down;
Hang it with vair and purple dyes;
Carve it in doves and pomegranates,
And peacocks with a hundred eyes;
Work it in gold and silver grapes,
In leaves and silver fleurs-de-lys;
Because the birthday of my life
Is come, my love is come to me. 

3. The Passionate Shepherd to His Love – Christopher Marlowe
Come live with me and be my love,
And we will all the pleasures prove
That valleys, groves, hills, and fields,
Woods, or steepy mountain yields.

And we will sit upon the rocks,
Seeing the shepherds feed their flocks,
By shallow rivers to whose falls
Melodious birds sing madrigals.

And I will make thee beds of roses,
And a thousand fragrant posies,
A cap of flowers, and a kirtle
Embroider’d all with leaves of myrtle.

A gown made of the finest wool
Which from our pretty lambs we pull;
Fair linèd slippers for the cold,
With buckles of the purest gold.

A belt of straw and ivy buds,
With coral clasps and amber studs:
And if these pleasures may thee move,
Come live with me and be my love.

The shepherds’ swains shall dance and sing
For thy delight each May-morning:
If these delights thy mind may move,
Then live with me and be my love. 

4. The Orange by Wendy Cope 
At lunchtime I bought a huge orange –
The size of it made us all laugh.
I peeled it and shared it with Robert and Dave –
They got quarters and I had a half.

And that orange, it made me so happy,
As ordinary things often do
Just lately. The shopping. A walk in the park.
This is peace and contentment. It’s new.

The rest of the day was quite easy.
I did all the jobs on my list
And enjoyed them and had some time over.
I love you. I’m glad I exist. 

5. I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love You by Pablo Neruda
Ido not love you except because I love you;
I go from loving to not loving you,
From waiting to not waiting for you
My heart moves from cold to fire.
I love you only because it’s you the one I love;
I hate you deeply, and hating you
Bend to you, and the measure of my changing love for you
Is that I do not see you but love you blindly.
Maybe January light will consume
My heart with its cruel
Ray, stealing my key to true calm.
In this part of the story I am the one who
Dies, the only one, and I will die of love because I love you,
Because I love you, Love, in fire and blood. 

6. Shall I Compare Thee to a Summer's Day? by William Shakespeare
Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?
Thou art more lovely and more temperate:
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,
And summer's lease hath all too short a date:
Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,
And often is his gold complexion dimmed;
And every fair from fair sometime declines,
By chance, or nature's changing course, untrimmed:
But thy eternal summer shall not fade,
Nor lose possession of that fair thou owest;
Nor shall death brag thou wanderest in his shade,
When in eternal lines to time thou growest:
So long as men can breathe, or eyes can see,
So long lives this, and this gives life to thee. 

7. The More Loving One by W.H. Auden
Looking up at the stars, I know quite well
That, for all they care, I can go to hell,
But on earth indifference is the least
We have to dread from man or beast.

How should we like it were stars to burn
With a passion for us we could not return?
If equal affection cannot be,
Let the more loving one be me.

Admirer as I think I am
Of stars that do not give a damn,
I cannot, now I see them, say
I missed one terribly all day.

Were all stars to disappear or die,
I should learn to look at an empty sky
And feel its total dark sublime,
Though this might take me a little time. 

8. Invisible Kisses by Leon Sissay
If there was ever one
Whom when you were sleeping
Would wipe your tears
When in dreams you were weeping;
Who would offer you time
When others demand;
Whose love lay more infinite
Than grains of sand.

If there was ever one
To whom you could cry;
Who would gather each tear
And blow it dry;
Who would offer help
On the mountains of time;
Who would stop to let each sunset
Soothe the jaded mind.

If there was ever one
To whom when you run
Will push back the clouds
So you are bathed in sun;
Who would open arms
If you would fall;
Who would show you everything
If you lost it all.

If there was ever one
Who when you achieve
Was there before the dream
And even then believed;
Who would clear the air
When it’s full of loss;
Who would count love
Before the cost.

If there was ever one
Who when you are cold
Will summon warm air
For your hands to hold;
Who would make peace
In pouring pain,
Make laughter fall
In falling rain.

If there was ever one
Who can offer you this and more;
Who in keyless rooms
Can open doors;
Who in open doors
Can see open fields
And in open fields
See harvests yield.

Then see only my face
In reflection of these tides
Through the clear water
Beyond the river side.
All I can send is love
In all that this is
A poem and a necklace
Of invisible kisses. 

9. Good Bones by Maggie Smith
Life is short, though I keep this from my children.
Life is short, and I’ve shortened mine
in a thousand delicious, ill-advised ways,
a thousand deliciously ill-advised ways
I’ll keep from my children. The world is at least
fifty percent terrible, and that’s a conservative
estimate, though I keep this from my children.
For every bird there is a stone thrown at a bird.
For every loved child, a child broken, bagged,
sunk in a lake. Life is short and the world
is at least half terrible, and for every kind
stranger, there is one who would break you,
though I keep this from my children. I am trying
to sell them the world. Any decent realtor,
walking you through a real shithole, chirps on
about good bones: This place could be beautiful,
right? You could make this place beautiful.

10. Wild Nights – Wild Nights by Emily Dickinson
Wild Nights – Wild Nights!
Were I with thee
Wild Nights should be
Our luxury!

Futile – the Winds –
To a Heart in port –
Done with the Compass –
Done with the Chart!

Rowing in Eden –
Ah – the Sea!
Might I but moor – Tonight –
In Thee! 

11. A Dream Within a Dream by Edgar Allan Poe
Take this kiss upon the brow!
And, in parting from you now,
Thus much let me avow –
You are not wrong, who deem
That my days have been a dream;
Yet if hope has flown away
In a night, or in a day,
In a vision, or in none,
Is it therefore the less gone?
All that we see or seem
Is but a dream within a dream.

I stand amid the roar
Of a surf-tormented shore,
And I hold within my hand
Grains of the golden sand –
How few! yet how they creep
Through my fingers to the deep,
While I weep – while I weep!
O God! Can I not grasp
Them with a tighter clasp?
O God! Can I not save
One from the pitiless wave?
Is all that we see or seem
But a dream within a dream?  

12. The Married Lover by Coventry Patmore
WHY, having won her, do I woo?
Because her spirit’s vestal grace
Provokes me always to pursue,
But, spirit-like, eludes embrace;
Because her womanhood is such
That, as on court-days subjects kiss
The Queen’s hand, yet so near a touch
Affirms no mean familiarness,
Nay, rather marks more fair the height
Which can with safety so neglect
To dread, as lower ladies might,
That grace could meet with disrespect;
Thus she with happy favour feeds
Allegiance from a love so high
That thence no false conceit proceeds
Of difference bridged, or state put by;
Because, although in act and word
As lowly as a wife can be
Her manners, when they call me lord,
Remind me ’tis by courtesy;
Not with her least consent of will,
Which would my proud affection hurt,
But by the noble style that still
Imputes an unattained desert;
Because her gay and lofty brows,
When all is won which hope can ask,
Reflect a light of hopeless snows
That bright in virgin ether bask;
Because, though free of the outer court
I am, this temple keeps its shrine
Sacred to heaven; because, in short,
She’s not and never can be mine. 

13. Our Souls Are Mirrors by Rupi Kaur
god must have kneaded you and i
from the same dough
rolled us out as one on the baking sheet
must have suddenly realised
how unfair it was
to put that much magic in one person
and sadly split that dough in two
how else is it that
when i look in the mirror
i am looking at you
when you breathe
my own lungs fill with air
that we just met but we
have known each other our whole lives
if we were not made as one to begin with 

14. Song to Celia by Ben Jonson
Drink to me only with thine eyes,
And I will pledge with mine;
Or leave a kiss but in the cup,
And I’ll not look for wine.
The thirst that from the soul doth rise
Doth ask a drink divine;
But might I of Jove’s nectar sup,
I would not change for thine.

I sent thee late a rosy wreath,
Not so much honoring thee
As giving it a hope that there
It could not withered be;
But thou thereon didst only breathe,
And sent’st it back to me;
Since when it grows, and smells, I swear,
Not of itself, but thee. 

15. Variations On The Word Love by Margaret Atwood 
This is a word we use to plug
holes with. It's the right size for those warm
blanks in speech, for those red heart-
shaped vacancies on the page that look nothing
like real hearts. Add lace
and you can sell
it. We insert it also in the one empty
space on the printed form
that comes with no instructions. There are whole
magazines with not much in them
but the word love, you can
rub it all over your body and you
can cook with it too. How do we know
it isn't what goes on at the cool
debaucheries of slugs under damp
pieces of cardboard? As for the weed-
seedlings nosing their tough snouts up
among the lettuces, they shout it.
Love! Love! sing the soldiers, raising
their glittering knives in salute.
Then there's the two
of us. This word
is far too short for us, it has only
four letters, too sparse
to fill those deep bare
vacuums between the stars
that press on us with their deafness.
It's not love we don't wish
to fall into, but that fear.
this word is not enough but it will
have to do. It's a single
vowel in this metallic
silence, a mouth that says
O again and again in wonder
and pain, a breath, a finger
grip on a cliffside. You can
hold on or let go. 

16. Small Kindnesses by Danusha Laméris
I’ve been thinking about the way, when you walk
down a crowded aisle, people pull in their legs
to let you by. Or how strangers still say “bless you”
when someone sneezes, a leftover
from the Bubonic plague. “Don’t die,” we are saying.

And sometimes, when you spill lemons
from your grocery bag, someone else will help you
pick them up. Mostly, we don’t want to harm each other.

We want to be handed our cup of coffee hot,
and to say thank you to the person handing it. To smile
at them and for them to smile back. For the waitress
to call us honey when she sets down the bowl of clam chowder,
and for the driver in the red pick-up truck to let us pass.

We have so little of each other, now. So far
from tribe and fire. Only these brief moments of exchange.
What if they are the true dwelling of the holy, these
fleeting temples we make together when we say, “Here,
have my seat,” “Go ahead — you first,” “I like your hat.” 

17. Having a Coke with You by Frank O’Hara
is even more fun than going to San Sebastian, Irún, Hendaye, Biarritz, Bayonne 
or being sick to my stomach on the Travesera de Gracia in Barcelona 
partly because in your orange shirt you look like a better happier St. Sebastian 
partly because of my love for you, partly because of your love for yoghurt 
partly because of the fluorescent orange tulips around the birches 
partly because of the secrecy our smiles take on before people and statuary 
it is hard to believe when I’m with you that there can be anything as still 
as solemn as unpleasantly definitive as statuary when right in front of it 
in the warm New York 4 o’clock light we are drifting back and forth 
between each other like a tree breathing through its spectacles 
and the portrait show seems to have no faces in it at all, just paint 
you suddenly wonder why in the world anyone ever did them 
I look 
at you and I would rather look at you than all the portraits in the world 
except possibly for the Polish Rider occasionally and anyway it’s in the Frick 
which thank heavens you haven’t gone to yet so we can go together the first time 
and the fact that you move so beautifully more or less takes care of Futurism 
just as at home I never think of the Nude Descending a Staircase or 
at a rehearsal a single drawing of Leonardo or Michelangelo that used to wow me 
and what good does all the research of the Impressionists do them 
when they never got the right person to stand near the tree when the sun sank 
or for that matter Marino Marini when he didn’t pick the rider as carefully 
as the horse 
it seems they were all cheated of some marvellous experience 
which is not going to go wasted on me which is why I’m telling you about it. 

18. Love After Love by Derek Walcott
The time will come
when, with elation,
you will greet yourself arriving
at your own door, in your own mirror,
and each will smile at the other's welcome,

and say, sit here. Eat.
You will love again the stranger who was your self.
Give wine. Give bread. Give back your heart
to itself, to the stranger who has loved you

all your life, whom you ignored
for another, who knows you by heart.
Take down the love letters from the bookshelf,

the photographs, the desperate notes,
peel your own image from the mirror.
Sit. Feast on your life. 

19. It Is Here by Harold Pinter
What sound was that?
I turn away, into the shaking room.

What was that sound that came in on the dark?
What is this maze of light it leaves us in?
What is this stance we take,
To turn away and then turn back?
What did we hear?

It was the breath we took when we first met.
Listen. It is here. 

20. A Moment of Happiness by Rumi
A moment of happiness,
you and I sitting on the verandah,
apparently two, but one in soul, you and I.
We feel the flowing water of life here,
you and I, with the garden’s beauty
and the birds singing.
The stars will be watching us,
and we will show them
what it is to be a thin crescent moon.
You and I unselfed, will be together,
indifferent to idle speculation, you and I.
The parrots of heaven will be cracking sugar
as we laugh together, you and I.
In one form upon this earth,
and in another form in a timeless sweet land.

21. Love Poem by Dora Malech 
If by truth you mean hand then yes
I hold to be self-evident and hold you in the highest –
KO to my OT and bait to my switch, I crown
you one-trick pony to my one-horse town,
dub you my one-stop shopping, my space heater,
juke joint, tourist trap, my peep show, my meter reader,
you best batteries-not-included baring all or
nothing. Let me begin by saying if he hollers,|
end with goes the weasel. In between,
cream filling. Get over it, meaning, the moon.
Tell me you’ll dismember this night forever,
you my punch-drunking bag, tar to my feather.

More than the sum of our private parts, we are some
peekaboo, some peak and valley, some
bright equation (if and then but, if er then uh).
My fruit bat, my gewgaw. You had me at no duh. 

22. Always by Lang Leav 
You were you
and I was I;
we were two
before our time

I was yours,
before I knew
and you have always
been mine too. 

23. Proximity by Michael Faudet
We joined the dots
from A to B,
the line we drew
from you to me,
traced empty shores
across the sea,
over mountain top,
past forest tree,
along the roads
and walking tracks,
all bridges burned,
no looking back,
for the love
we have,
no gate can stop,
no barking dog
or bolted lock,
for what is real
is meant to be,
when two hearts
beat-
in proximity. 

24. In and Out of Time by Maya Angelou
The sun has come.
The mist has gone.
We see in the distance...
our long way home.

I was always yours to have.
You were always mine.
We have loved each other in and out of time.

When the first stone looked up at the blazing sun
and the first tree struggled up from the forest floor
I had always loved you more.

You freed your braids...
gave your hair to the breeze.
It hummed like a hive of honey bees.
I reached in the mass for the sweet honey comb there....
Mmmm...God how I love your hair.

You saw me bludgeoned by circumstance.
Lost, injured, hurt by chance.
I screamed to the heavens....loudly screamed....
Trying to change our nightmares into dreams...
The sun has come.
The mist has gone.
We see in the distance our long way home.

I was always yours to have.
You were always mine.
We have loved each other in and out
in and out
in and out
of time.

25. Come and Be my Baby by Maya Angelou
The highway is full of big cars
going nowhere fast
And folks is smoking anything that’ll burn
Some people wrap their lies around a cocktail glass
And you sit wondering
where you’re going to turn
I got it.
Come. And be my baby.

Some prophets say the world is gonna end tomorrow
But others say we’ve got a week or two
The paper is full of every kind of blooming horror
And you sit wondering
What you’re gonna do.
I got it.
Come. And be my baby.

Love Poems for Her by Her

There is a really unique beauty in love poems for women written by women. The verses and words seem to capture expressions of love, connection and intimacy in a really wonderful way. Our love poems for her from her show adoration through an authentic, feminine lens – giving a voice to the boundless ways love can be celebrated and shared.

We’ve collated some of our favourite love poems for her from her to showcases a diverse range of poetic styles, from tender notes to bold declarations, all written by women who understand love’s transformative energy.

26. Love Poem by Audre Lorde
Speak earth and bless me with what is richest
make sky flow honey out of my hips
rigis mountains
spread over a valley
carved out by the mouth of rain.

And I knew when I entered her I was
high wind in her forests hollow
fingers whispering sound
honey flowed
from the split cup
impaled on a lance of tongues
on the tips of her breasts on her navel
and my breath
howling into her entrances
through lungs of pain.

Greedy as herring-gulls
or a child
I swing out over the earth
over and over
again. 

27. Twenty-One Love Poems [Poem II] by Adrienne Rich
I wake up in your bed. I know I have been dreaming.
Much earlier, the alarm broke us from each other,
you’ve been at your desk for hours. I know what I dreamed:
our friend the poet comes into my room
where I’ve been writing for days,
drafts, carbons, poems are scattered everywhere,
and I want to show her one poem
which is the poem of my life. But I hesitate,
and wake. You’ve kissed my hair
to wake me. I dreamed you were a poem,
I say, a poem I wanted to show someone . . .
and I laugh and fall dreaming again
of the desire to show you to everyone I love,
to move openly together
in the pull of gravity, which is not simple,
which carries the feathered grass a long way down the upbreathing air. 

28. Wild Geese by Mary Oliver
You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees
for a hundred miles through the desert, repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body
love what it loves.
Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.
Meanwhile the world goes on.
Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain
are moving across the landscapes,
over the prairies and the deep trees,
the mountains and the rivers.
Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,
are heading home again.
Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,
the world offers itself to your imagination,
calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting–
over and over announcing your place
in the family of things. 

29. The One I Love by Natalie Clifford Barney
The one I love is not beautiful,
Her charm lies in her grace,
Her smile’s caress,
The infinite softness of her voice,
And in the kindness of her glance. 

30. Warming Her Pearls by Carol Ann Duffy
Next to my own skin, her pearls. My mistress
bids me wear them, warm them, until evening
when I'll brush her hair. At six, I place them
round her cool, white throat. All day I think of her,

resting in the Yellow Room, contemplating silk
or taffeta, which gown tonight? She fans herself
whilst I work willingly, my slow heat entering
each pearl. Slack on my neck, her rope.

She's beautiful. I dream about her
in my attic bed; picture her dancing
with tall men, puzzled by my faint, persistent scent
beneath her French perfume, her milky stones. 

31. Morning Poem by Mary Oliver
Every morning
the world
is created.

Under the orange
sticks of the sun
the heaped ashes of the night
turn into leaves again
and fasten themselves to the high branches –
and the ponds appear
like black cloth
on which are painted islands
of summer lilies.

If it is your nature
to be happy
you will swim away along the soft trails
for hours, your imagination
alighting everywhere.

And if your spirit
carries within it
the thorn
that is heavier than lead –
if it's all you can do
to keep on trudging –

there is still
somewhere deep within you
a beast shouting that the earth
is exactly what it wanted –

each pond with its blazing lilies
is a prayer heard and answered
lavishly,
every morning,

whether or not
you have ever dared to be happy,
whether or not
you have ever dared to pray.

32. Sappho’s Boat by Eileen Myles
A rowboat.
My love is you are in a rowboat
I feel you and you are in the dark green boat
and you are traveling.
Maybe it’s a big boat.

It smells like fresh pine.
I love you
like the storm
but the storm’s over, it passed
I miss you.
That was the storm.

We were like the gods.
You climbed in my lap.
You covered me with your big body.
And you kissed me
and kissed me
and kissed me. 

33. Fragment 31 by Sappho
He seems to me equal to the gods
the man who sits opposite you
and close by listens
to your sweet voice
and your enticing laughter –
that indeed has stirred up the heart in my breast." 

34. I Am Jealous of Those Who Are Dead by Renée Vivien
I am jealous of those who are dead,
Who caress you in your dreams,
Who walk with you
In the moonlight, through the shadows.

I am jealous of those
Whose voices have touched your ears
With songs
Sweeter than mine.

I am jealous of those who have left,
Leaving your heart softened
With memories that tremble
Like a sigh in the wind.

I am jealous of the hours,
The laughter, the tears,
The kisses of the day gone by.

I am jealous of the ones you love
And who will never love you
As I do. 

35. Mad Girl’s Love Song by Sylvia Plath
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead;
I lift my lids and all is born again.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

The stars go waltzing out in blue and red,|
And arbitrary blackness gallops in:
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.

I dreamed that you bewitched me into bed
And sung me moon-struck, kissed me quite insane.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

God topples from the sky, hell's fires fade:
Exit seraphim and Satan's men:
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.

I fancied you'd return the way you said,
But I grow old and I forget your name.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

I should have loved a thunderbird instead;
At least when spring comes they roar back again.
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.
(I think I made you up inside my head.) 

36. To Be in Love by Gwendolyn Brooks
To be in love 
Is to touch with a lighter hand. 
In yourself you stretch, you are well. 
You look at things 
Through his eyes. 
A cardinal is red. 
A sky is blue. 
Suddenly you know he knows too. 
He is not there but 
You know you are tasting together 
The winter, or a light spring weather. 
His hand to take your hand is overmuch. 
Too much to bear. 
You cannot look in his eyes 
Because your pulse must not say 
What must not be said. 
When he 
Shuts a door- 
Is not there –
Your arms are water. 
And you are free 
With a ghastly freedom. 
You are the beautiful half 
Of a golden hurt. 
You remember and covet his mouth 
To touch, to whisper on. 
Oh when to declare 
Is certain Death! 
Oh when to apprize 
Is to mesmerize, 
To see fall down, the Column of Gold, 
Into the commonest ash. 

37. Heart to Heart by Rita Dove
It's neither red
nor sweet.
It doesn't melt
or turn over,
break or harden,
so it can't feel
pain,
yearning,
regret.

It doesn't have
a tip to spin on,
it isn't even
shapely—
just a thick clutch
of muscle,
lopsided,
mute. Still,
I feel it inside
its cage sounding
a dull tattoo:
I want, I want—
but I can't open it:
there's no key.
I can't wear it
on my sleeve,
or tell you from
the bottom of it
how I feel. Here,
it's all yours, now—
but you'll have
to take me,
too. 

38. After Love by Maxine Kumin 
Afterward, the compromise.
Bodies resume their boundaries.
These legs, for instance, mine.
Your arms take you back in.
Spoons of our fingers, lips
admit their ownership.
The bedding yawns, a door
blows aimlessly ajar 
and overhead, a plane
singsongs coming down. 
Nothing is changed, except
there was a moment when
the wolf, the mongering wolf
who stands outside the self
lay lightly down, and slept. 

39. Love Poem by Tishani Doshi
Ultimately, we will lose each other
to something. I would hope for grand
circumstance – death or disaster.
But it might not be that way at all.
It might be that you walk out
one morning after making love
to buy cigarettes, and never return,
or I fall in love with another man.
It might be a slow drift into indifference.
Either way, we’ll have to learn
to bear the weight of the eventuality
that we will lose each other to something.
So why not begin now, while your head
rests like a perfect moon in my lap,
and the dogs on the beach are howling?
Why not reach for the seam in this South Indian
night and tear it, just a little, so the falling
can begin? Because later, when we cross
each other on the streets, and are forced
to look away, when we’ve thrown
the disregarded pieces of our togetherness
into bedroom drawers and the smell
of our bodies is disappearing like the sweet
decay of lilies —  what will we call it,
when it’s no longer love? 

40. Dulzura by Sandra Cisneros
Make love to me in Spanish.
Not with that other tongue.
I want you juntito a mí,
tender like the language
crooned to babies.
I want to be that
lullabied, mi bien
querido, that loved.

I want you inside
the mouth of my heart,
inside the harp of my wrists,
the sweet meat of the mango,
in the gold that dangles
from my ears and neck.

Say my name. Say it.
The way it’s supposed to be said.
I want to know that I knew you
even before I knew you. 

41. I Belong In Your Arms by Deborah Brideau
I belong in your arms
Finally, I have found a place
Into which I fit perfectly, safely
And securely with no doubts,
No fears, no sadness, no tears.

This place is filled with happiness and laughter
Yet it is spacious enough, to allow me
The freedom to move around,
To live my life and be myself.
This wonderful place, which I never believed really existed,
I have found finally
Inside your arms, Inside your heart, inside your love. 

42. The Future by Emma Salmon
In my future I see you and me,
And a house and garden filled with trees.
I see dinner parties surrounded by friends,
And a vegetable patch we love to tend.
I see cosy nights in front of the fire,
And a four-poster bed for when we tire.
I see our kitchen which will be the heart of the home,
And a Victorian bath brimming with foam.
I see muddy wellies by the front door,
And the kids eating cookies and asking for more.
I see nights in the garden camping under the stars,
And shelves full of mismatching local jam jars.
I see family picnics outside with the dog,
And a little blue shed containing the logs.
I see us sat by the window watching the snow,
And reading the papers and learning to grow.
I see pictures of family in quirky frames,
And letters on the kids’ doors spelling out their names.
I see laughter, pain, kisses and tears,
And helping each other to confront our fears.
I see you as my friend and also my lover,
Your confidant and your children’s mother.
I see a wonderful future for you and I,
And it’s cloaked in love until we die. 

43. Four Weddings by Pauline Halliwell
How young we were, what dreams we had
On that bright September day;
As parents, family and friends
Cheered us on our wedded way.

The years passed by; a silver day
Outshone the toil and tears,
As children, family and friends
Rejoiced in happy, blessed years.

The years passed by; a golden day
Bright with love and expectation,
As grandchildren, family and friends
Joined the glorious celebration.

The years passed by; a diamond day
Dawns gently in old age;
So many jewels in our lives
As we travel life’s brief stage.

44. Echo by Carol Ann Duffy
I think I was searching for treasures or stones
in the clearest of pools
When your face . . .
when your face,
like the moon in a well
where I might wish…
Might well wish
for the iced fire of your kiss;
only on water my lips, where your face…
where your face was reflected, lovely,
not really there when I turned
to look behind at the emptying air…
the emptying air. 

45. There Will Come Soft Rains by Sara Teasdale 
There will come soft rains and the smell of the ground,
And swallows circling with their shimmering sound;
And frogs in the pools singing at night,
And wild plum trees in tremulous white,

Robins will wear their feathery fire
Whistling their whims on a low fence-wire;
And not one will know of the war, not one
Will care at last when it is done.

Not one would mind, neither bird nor tree
If mankind perished utterly;
And Spring herself, when she woke at dawn,
Would scarcely know that we were gone.

46.Extract from All About Love: New Visions by Bell Hooks
To love well is the task in all meaningful relationships, not just romantic bonds.
We must be willing to nurture the growth of ourselves and another person.
Love is as love does. Love is an act of will – namely, both an intention and an action.
Will also implies choice.
We do not have to love.
We choose to love.

47. Poem for My Love by June Jordan
How do we come to be here next to each other   
in the night
Where are the stars that show us to our love   
inevitable
Outside the leaves flame usual in darkness   
and the rain
falls cool and blessed on the holy flesh   
the black men waiting on the corner for   
a womanly mirage
I am amazed by peace
It is this possibility of you
asleep
and breathing in the quiet air 

48. One Girl by Sappho
I: Like the sweet apple which reddens upon the topmost bough,
Atop on the topmost twig, – which the pluckers forgot, somehow, –
Forget it not, nay; but got it not, for none could get it till now.

II: Like the wild hyacinth flower which on the hills is found,
Which the passing feet of the shepherds for ever tear and wound,
Until the purple blossom is trodden in the ground. 

49. Sunshine by by Pat Parker
If it were possible
to place you in my brain
to let you roam around
in and out
my thought waves
you would never 
have to ask
why do you love me?

This morning as you slept
I wanted to kiss you awake
say I love you till your brain
smiled and nodded yes
this woman does love me.

Each day the list grows
filled with the things that are you
things that make my heart jump
yet words would sound strange
become corny in utterance.

In the morning when I wake
I don’t look out my window
to see if the sun is shining.
I turn to you instead. 

50. Untitled by June Bates
The first time I really let myself
fall in love with a woman,
I didn’t feel butterflies.
I never felt nervous.

The moment I was in her arms,
I knew
I was home.

What Is a Love Poem for Her?

A love poem for her is an expression of your feelings, tailored to the person you adore. Words are used to reflect your emotions and feelings, and tell a story in a really loving way. There are many classic poems of love for her – from Shakespeare and other icons – that echo timeless romance, as well as to modern takes filled with personal anecdotes, from brilliant writers such as Margaret Atwood, Leon Sissay and Maya Angelou. 

A love poem for her from her carries a special meaning, showcasing love through a feminine lens. It highlights the tender, passionate, and sometimes playful sides of love in ways that feel deeply personal.

Whether it’s a simple yet touching short love poem for her, or a more elaborate expression of your devotion, a love poem is the perfect way to say I love you.

How to Write a Love Poem for Her?

Writing a love poem for her is an intimate and heartfelt way to express your feelings – and a wonderful thing to do for a surprise at your wedding or to mark a special occasion. There is not a more personal and thoughtful gift! A love poem for her doesn't need to follow any strict rules, it simply needs to come from the heart and be authentic. 

Start by reflecting on what makes her special to you, jot down those emotions. It could be their laugh or smile, something funny they do or their kind personality. If you’re unsure where to start, read some short love poems for her for inspiration. Keep your words sincere, and don’t overthink – in many cases, the simplest words are often the most powerful.