The Love Thread

rgambs

This is a thread that I hope will stick around.
A place for love. Stories of love, love poems, things you love about life.
A place to discuss the very nature of love, what it is, who can attain it, and how it gets lost.
All things love, you get it!

rgambs

I love my wife above all else. I love my dogs. IFL Pearl Jam!

How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.
I love thee to the depth and breadth and height
My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight
For the ends of being and ideal grace.
I love thee to the level of every day’s
Most quiet need, by sun and candle-light.
I love thee freely, as men strive for right.
I love thee purely, as they turn from praise.
I love thee with the passion put to use
In my old griefs, and with my childhood’s faith.
I love thee with a love I seemed to lose
With my lost saints. I love thee with the breath,
Smiles, tears, of all my life; and, if God choose,
I shall but love thee better after death

hedonist

I love this

Looking forward to seeing where this goes - and I know I'll be adding to it this evening/weekend, when I can properly gather my thoughts and words.

badbrains

Love, it sure beats hate

JWPearl

badbrains said:

Love, it sure beats hate

You know hate you can have as the bible says , hate what is bad and love what is good,
But yes love beats hate..

badbrains

JWPearl said:

badbrains said:

Love, it sure beats hate

You know hate you can have as the bible says , hate what is bad and love what is good,
But yes love beats hate..

Or how about I LOVE to HATE! )

JWPearl

badbrains said:

JWPearl said:

badbrains said:

Love, it sure beats hate

You know hate you can have as the bible says , hate what is bad and love what is good,
But yes love beats hate..

Or how about I LOVE to HATE! )

I love to hate what is bad

hedonist

But "good" and "bad" can be so subjective and personal.

Anyway, it's been a longass week and on this Friday morning, will focus on the love aspect (and not the Van Halen song. haha).

JWPearl

badbrains said:

JWPearl said:

badbrains said:

Love, it sure beats hate

You know hate you can have as the bible says , hate what is bad and love what is good,
But yes love beats hate..

Or how about I LOVE to HATE! )

You can't say it the other way around

badbrains

JWPearl said:

badbrains said:

JWPearl said:

badbrains said:

Love, it sure beats hate

You know hate you can have as the bible says , hate what is bad and love what is good,
But yes love beats hate..

Or how about I LOVE to HATE! )

You can't say it the other way around

I HATE to LOVE! )

rgambs

I've heard it said you can't truly hate that which you haven't loved.

Annafalk

Some people come into your life and you just know you will never be able to replace them if they left.

Annafalk

Meeting you was fate, becoming your friend was a choice, but falling in love with you was beyond my control.

I just wanted to share some sayings I've found on the net

benjs

Annafalk said:

Meeting you was fate, becoming your friend was a choice, but falling in love with you was beyond my control.

I just wanted to share some sayings I've found on the net

This one resonates with me. These days I'd like to fall out of love which, unfortunately, is also beyond my control.

brianlux

Love, hate, how can you deny either.

Here's a short little a capella ditty from the late Larry Norman that always struck me as right on:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wvRk7j2HRY8

josevolution

There is no end to love ! that is a fact

rgambs

Do you believe in love at first sight? I do.

Time's sea hath been five years at it's slow ebb,
Long hours have to and fro let creep the sand,
Since I was tangled in thy beauty's web,
And snared by the ungloving of thine hand.
And yet I never look on midnight sky,
But I behold thine eyes' well memory'd light;
I cannot look upon the rose's dye,
But to thy cheek my soul doth take it's flight.
I cannot look on any budding flower,
But my fond ear, in fancy at thy lips
And hearkening for a love sound, doth devour
It's sweets in the wrong sense: -Thou dost eclipse
Every delight with sweet remembering,
And grief unto my darling joys dost bring.

hedonist

I've never fallen instantly in love (at first sight) except with the animals adopted over the years. It's such a strange love too, the give-and-take, the dependence (on both sides) - perhaps not so different than human love in those senses - but what gets me is going into it with the knowledge they'll likely go before us. It's not so much a choice to love, but a choice to act on it and with it. I've read recently in a couple of threads about some of our members losing their dogs and cats, or their being sick. Been there too, and it's a unique kind of hurting. Yet we love them...no - thankfully, we love them.

I'm truly sorry for all of your losses.

(hope this is making sense)

Then the for better or worse, till death kind of love...not necessarily vowed aloud but demonstrated.

It's funny because I just happened upon the Breakfast Club on and was thinking, man - I was only 20 when this came out. Then I thought, my husband was 14 Sure it's important to have the hefty issues in common...helps to sustain the relationship...but so too do the differences, whether they be age, politics, art, even food. See another side, learn compromise, be surprised! And know some of those differences don't mean shit in the end.

I know of others here who, like I (hiya Leeze and happy birthday to your husband!), have met their love through this forum, or elsewhere online. Across distance, got to know, came to like, grew to love, someone known at least initially through words. Just words.

In that sense, it's somewhat gradual and at least for me, was a choice - given the circumstances, I think. It almost forces a type of courting from both but in a good sense. Handwritten letters, mixed-CD's (how he introduced me to Blind Melon, Tool, Alice and a shitload of others), books, and on.

This is an interesting subject, gambs.

Makes me also think of love for parents, siblings, friends, even strangers too. The different forms and sentiments of it.

(ps - looking at the tv screen just now, reminded me that my husband and I BOTH have a crush on Ally Sheedy )

rgambs

hedonist said:

I've never fallen instantly in love (at first sight) except with the animals adopted over the years. It's such a strange love too, the give-and-take, the dependence (on both sides) - perhaps not so different than human love in those senses - but what gets me is going into it with the knowledge they'll likely go before us. It's not so much a choice to love, but a choice to act on it and with it. I've read recently in a couple of threads about some of our members losing their dogs and cats, or their being sick. Been there too, and it's a unique kind of hurting. Yet we love them...no - thankfully, we love them.

I'm truly sorry for all of your losses.

(hope this is making sense)

Then the for better or worse, till death kind of love...not necessarily vowed aloud but demonstrated.

It's funny because I just happened upon the Breakfast Club on and was thinking, man - I was only 20 when this came out. Then I thought, my husband was 14 Sure it's important to have the hefty issues in common...helps to sustain the relationship...but so too do the differences, whether they be age, politics, art, even food. See another side, learn compromise, be surprised! And know some of those differences don't mean shit in the end.

I know of others here who, like I (hiya Leeze and happy birthday to your husband!), have met their love through this forum, or elsewhere online. Across distance, got to know, came to like, grew to love, someone known at least initially through words. Just words.

In that sense, it's somewhat gradual and at least for me, was a choice - given the circumstances, I think. It almost forces a type of courting from both but in a good sense. Handwritten letters, mixed-CD's (how he introduced me to Blind Melon, Tool, Alice and a shitload of others), books, and on.

This is an interesting subject, gambs.

Makes me also think of love for parents, siblings, friends, even strangers too. The different forms and sentiments of it.

(ps - looking at the tv screen just now, reminded me that my husband and I BOTH have a crush on Ally Sheedy )

That love for animals is special isn't it? I love my dogs in a way I can't love even my wife ( of course it goes the other way as well). They are my first REAL pets that are loved members of the family and I can already feel the ache, the longing that I will endure for the rest of my life when they are gone...and they are only 3 lol
Double that for the people we lose along the way..my brother and cousin who left life before 33 years they had lived..I have many years yet to love them and long for their presence.
I am truly sorry for all of your losses as well. We all feel the sting at some point.
I totally relate to the "internet connection" and also "love" at first sight. My wife is my highschool sweetheart, my first girlfriend. She is a year older than me (my brothers grade) and somehow I didn't even know she existed until my freshman year. (To big city folks that's no biggie, but in a school our size, that is almost unbelievable!). We were introduced on ICQ, the predecessor to AIM and came to be very close friends over a few month period of daily chatting. I introduced her to...BLIND FUCKING MELON!! How about that Hedobot? Finally, someone pointed her out from a safe distance and I thought, damn! she's way too hot for me it will never happen....but the magic of correspondence is that it already had happened and we just didn't know it yet.
Love is wonderful, who needs anything more than love? God and heaven, ghosts in the mist, money in the bank, fame, fortune, respect, power...you can keep it all, just let me daily drink my fill till I am teeming with love and it brims over and splashes happily those who are near to me.

hedonist

Ha! I love it - not just the Blind Melon intro, but fucking ICQ. That was such a treat for us in those days.

Your path with your wife sounds sweet, and...purposeful, I think is the word I'm looking for.

And your pets are only three?! Don't worry, be happy you got 'em, sir gambot

whispering hands

Love is is never quite attainable for me. Twice now I've thought I was blessed by the presence of this ever Lying promise of being loved. Each held my heart, tentatively handed over, it's beating pulse in their control; for to love is to give wholly of one's self. So I did.
The first promised his heart, but always found some reason to never give it up, as he held mine in his hands. He promised we'd grow old together, share life's dreams together, and then stabbed my heart, and laughed as it lie bleeding in his palm. I snatched it back and rushed it to be healed.
Though it was stitched back together, the healing of it took years. Scary issue developed over the wound, and my poor heart learned to beat a little quieter.
The second promised he'd never repeat what the first had done. He held me, and made me believe he cherished me. But I was not what he'd hoped, so I was never go adorn his arm in public, nor speak his name aloud. But alone together I was his world. Then I grew ill, and I went to heal, only to come home to having no home at all. My poor heart wretched and coughed, and the puss of hatred seeped from newly infected wounds. I left.. A
Again I sought to heal my heart, again it has taken years to heal, and while the wounds have healed, and the scar tissue is thick, I now am terrified of this lie they call Love. It is not great, it holds no merit. All it has ever been to me is a weapon of mass destruction.

rgambs

whispering hands said:

Love is is never quite attainable for me. Twice now I've thought I was blessed by the presence of this ever Lying promise of being loved. Each held my heart, tentatively handed over, it's beating pulse in their control; for to love is to give wholly of one's self. So I did.
The first promised his heart, but always found some reason to never give it up, as he held mine in his hands. He promised we'd grow old together, share life's dreams together, and then stabbed my heart, and laughed as it lie bleeding in his palm. I snatched it back and rushed it to be healed.
Though it was stitched back together, the healing of it took years. Scary issue developed over the wound, and my poor heart learned to beat a little quieter.
The second promised he'd never repeat what the first had done. He held me, and made me believe he cherished me. But I was not what he'd hoped, so I was never go adorn his arm in public, nor speak his name aloud. But alone together I was his world. Then I grew ill, and I went to heal, only to come home to having no home at all. My poor heart wretched and coughed, and the puss of hatred seeped from newly infected wounds. I left.. A
Again I sought to heal my heart, again it has taken years to heal, and while the wounds have healed, and the scar tissue is thick, I now am terrified of this lie they call Love. It is not great, it holds no merit. All it has ever been to me is a weapon of mass destruction.

To love is to open the door for pain's ingress.
Though it provide but little succor, lend your thoughts to the love you have given when the love returned should fail you. Surely, there must be those you have touched, who's lives are richer, fuller, and dearer for your presence. Did your mother not feel the greatness, the fullness, the true merit of love when first she held you in her arms? Have there been no doggies who lay their head upon your lap and sigh with the full contentedness and trust that is doggie love? Always, always remember that love is just around the corner. My great grandfather found love again in his 80's, after his wife had passed in his 70's, and was open still to love when he passed himself in his 90's!

oftenreading

rgambs said:

Do you believe in love at first sight? I do.

Time's sea hath been five years at it's slow ebb,
Long hours have to and fro let creep the sand,
Since I was tangled in thy beauty's web,
And snared by the ungloving of thine hand.
And yet I never look on midnight sky,
But I behold thine eyes' well memory'd light;
I cannot look upon the rose's dye,
But to thy cheek my soul doth take it's flight.
I cannot look on any budding flower,
But my fond ear, in fancy at thy lips
And hearkening for a love sound, doth devour
It's sweets in the wrong sense: -Thou dost eclipse
Every delight with sweet remembering,
And grief unto my darling joys dost bring.

I'll see your Romantic poet and raise you one Metaphysical. One of my favourites, by Andrew Marvell; too long to quote in its entirety so I'll just leave the last few lines, which are my favourite.

Let us roll all our strength and all
Our sweetness up into one ball,
And tear our pleasures with rough strife
Thorough the iron gates of life:
Thus, though we cannot make our sun
Stand still, yet we will make him run.

rgambs

oftenreading said:

rgambs said:

Do you believe in love at first sight? I do.

Time's sea hath been five years at it's slow ebb,
Long hours have to and fro let creep the sand,
Since I was tangled in thy beauty's web,
And snared by the ungloving of thine hand.
And yet I never look on midnight sky,
But I behold thine eyes' well memory'd light;
I cannot look upon the rose's dye,
But to thy cheek my soul doth take it's flight.
I cannot look on any budding flower,
But my fond ear, in fancy at thy lips
And hearkening for a love sound, doth devour
It's sweets in the wrong sense: -Thou dost eclipse
Every delight with sweet remembering,
And grief unto my darling joys dost bring.

I'll see your Romantic poet and raise you one Metaphysical. One of my favourites, by Andrew Marvell; too long to quote in its entirety so I'll just leave the last few lines, which are my favourite.

Let us roll all our strength and all
Our sweetness up into one ball,
And tear our pleasures with rough strife
Thorough the iron gates of life:
Thus, though we cannot make our sun
Stand still, yet we will make him run.

Had we but world enough, and time,
This coyness lady, were no crime.
We would sit down, and think which way
To walk, and pass our long love's day.

Very nice! I don't think Marvell was a match for Milton, but I will take him over Donne any day!
If I wind it back to Shakespeare does that make me pedantic? Don't care lol because Billy Badass was the master of the sonnet!

116
Let me not to the marriage of true minds
Admit impediments. Love is not love
Which alters when it alteration finds,
Or bends with the remover to remove:
Oh, no! it is an ever fix`ed mark,
That looks on tempests and is never shaken;
It is the star to ever wandering bark
Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken.
Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks
Within His bending sickle's compass come;
Love alters not with His brief hours and weeks,
But bears it out even to the edge of doom.
If this be error and upon me proved,
I never writ, nor no man ever loved.

oftenreading

rgambs said:

oftenreading said:

rgambs said:

Do you believe in love at first sight? I do.

Time's sea hath been five years at it's slow ebb,
Long hours have to and fro let creep the sand,
Since I was tangled in thy beauty's web,
And snared by the ungloving of thine hand.
And yet I never look on midnight sky,
But I behold thine eyes' well memory'd light;
I cannot look upon the rose's dye,
But to thy cheek my soul doth take it's flight.
I cannot look on any budding flower,
But my fond ear, in fancy at thy lips
And hearkening for a love sound, doth devour
It's sweets in the wrong sense: -Thou dost eclipse
Every delight with sweet remembering,
And grief unto my darling joys dost bring.

I'll see your Romantic poet and raise you one Metaphysical. One of my favourites, by Andrew Marvell; too long to quote in its entirety so I'll just leave the last few lines, which are my favourite.

Let us roll all our strength and all
Our sweetness up into one ball,
And tear our pleasures with rough strife
Thorough the iron gates of life:
Thus, though we cannot make our sun
Stand still, yet we will make him run.

Had we but world enough, and time,
This coyness lady, were no crime.
We would sit down, and think which way
To walk, and pass our long love's day.

Very nice! I don't think Marvell was a match for Milton, but I will take him over Donne any day!
If I wind it back to Shakespeare does that make me pedantic? Don't care lol because Billy Badass was the master of the sonnet!

116
Let me not to the marriage of true minds
Admit impediments. Love is not love
Which alters when it alteration finds,
Or bends with the remover to remove:
Oh, no! it is an ever fix`ed mark,
That looks on tempests and is never shaken;
It is the star to ever wandering bark
Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken.
Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks
Within His bending sickle's compass come;
Love alters not with His brief hours and weeks,
But bears it out even to the edge of doom.
If this be error and upon me proved,
I never writ, nor no man ever loved.

Don't you be slagging off Donne, rgambs - that's grounds for getting banned right there! But I won't argue with you about Shakespeare.

A little Donne for you, the last stanza of The Sun Rising. I seem to be in a sunny mood.

She's all states, and all princes I,
Nothing else is.
Princes do but play us; compar'd to this,
All honour's mimic, all wealth alchemy.
Thou, sun, art half as happy as we,
In that the world's contracted thus;
Thine age asks ease, and since thy duties be
To warm the world, that's done in warming us.
Shine here to us, and thou art everywhere;
This bed thy centre is, these walls, thy sphere

Annafalk

rgambs

oftenreading said:

rgambs said:

oftenreading said:

rgambs said:

Do you believe in love at first sight? I do.

Time's sea hath been five years at it's slow ebb,
Long hours have to and fro let creep the sand,
Since I was tangled in thy beauty's web,
And snared by the ungloving of thine hand.
And yet I never look on midnight sky,
But I behold thine eyes' well memory'd light;
I cannot look upon the rose's dye,
But to thy cheek my soul doth take it's flight.
I cannot look on any budding flower,
But my fond ear, in fancy at thy lips
And hearkening for a love sound, doth devour
It's sweets in the wrong sense: -Thou dost eclipse
Every delight with sweet remembering,
And grief unto my darling joys dost bring.

I'll see your Romantic poet and raise you one Metaphysical. One of my favourites, by Andrew Marvell; too long to quote in its entirety so I'll just leave the last few lines, which are my favourite.

Let us roll all our strength and all
Our sweetness up into one ball,
And tear our pleasures with rough strife
Thorough the iron gates of life:
Thus, though we cannot make our sun
Stand still, yet we will make him run.

Had we but world enough, and time,
This coyness lady, were no crime.
We would sit down, and think which way
To walk, and pass our long love's day.

Very nice! I don't think Marvell was a match for Milton, but I will take him over Donne any day!
If I wind it back to Shakespeare does that make me pedantic? Don't care lol because Billy Badass was the master of the sonnet!

116
Let me not to the marriage of true minds
Admit impediments. Love is not love
Which alters when it alteration finds,
Or bends with the remover to remove:
Oh, no! it is an ever fix`ed mark,
That looks on tempests and is never shaken;
It is the star to ever wandering bark
Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken.
Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks
Within His bending sickle's compass come;
Love alters not with His brief hours and weeks,
But bears it out even to the edge of doom.
If this be error and upon me proved,
I never writ, nor no man ever loved.

Don't you be slagging off Donne, rgambs - that's grounds for getting banned right there! But I won't argue with you about Shakespeare.

A little Donne for you, the last stanza of The Sun Rising. I seem to be in a sunny mood.

She's all states, and all princes I,
Nothing else is.
Princes do but play us; compar'd to this,
All honour's mimic, all wealth alchemy.
Thou, sun, art half as happy as we,
In that the world's contracted thus;
Thine age asks ease, and since thy duties be
To warm the world, that's done in warming us.
Shine here to us, and thou art everywhere;
This bed thy centre is, these walls, thy sphere

The sun is a great metaphor for love, it shines on regardless of what is happening without, which ought to be the very purest aspect of love.

I will freely admit I have slagged off on Donne. His blank verse just doesn't do it for me and I find his religious allegories a bit rich for my taste. I am not a big William Blake guy either, but while I have skimmed in Donne, Tennyson, and Blake I have delved deep into Keats, Shelley, and Shakespeare! Poetry is good food.

hedonist

I have to say I'm not a fan of the flowery (though I think much of it also has to do with how it's written, ala Shakespeare - almost like a foreign language), though I do like what I've read of Neruda.

rgambs

hedonist said:

I have to say I'm not a fan of the flowery (though I think much of it also has to do with how it's written, ala Shakespeare - almost like a foreign language), though I do like what I've read of Neruda.

Yeah only literature dweebs care about the upper end of poetry lol. We are a different breed!
Neruda I have to read both the Spanish and the translation, to get the rhythm and then the meaning. For instance:

Te recuerdo como eras in el ultimo otono.
Eras la boina gris y el corazon en calma.
En tus ojos peleaban las llamas del crepusculo.
Y las hojas caian an el agua de tu alma.
I remember you as you were in the last autumn.
You were the grey beret and the still heart.
In your eyes the flames of the twilight fought on.
And the leaves fell in the water of your soul.

rgambs

Wendell Berry :
Whatever happens,
Those who have learned
To love one another
Have made their way
To the lasting world
And will not leave,
Whatever happens.

hedonist

Thank you for translating - the grey beret line hit me.

When my husband introduced me to Tool on the mixed-cd, his request was to listen to H first. It took me a bit to get what he meant, but when I got it, I got it huge.

"considerately killing me" and the gorgeously-screamed "I DON'T MIND".

Yes, it's one of our songs

Lyrics below but I couldn't be arsed to separate the lines based on the cut & paste from their website. Worth the read if anyone has the inclination. It too is poetry; hell, fucking Maynard is a poet.


What's coming through is alive. What's holding up is a mirror. But what's singing songs is a snake looking to turn this piss to wine. They're both totally void of hate, but killing me just the same. The snake behind me hisses what my damage could have been. My blood before me begs meopen up my heart again. And I feel this coming over like a storm again. considerately. Venomous voice, tempts me, drains me, bleeds me, leaves me cracked and empty. Drags me down like some sweet gravity. The snake behind me hisses what my damage could have been. My blood before me begs me open up my heart again. And I feel this coming over like a storm again. I am too connected to you to slip away, to fade away. Days away I still feel you touching me, changing me, and considerately killing me. Without the skin, beneath the storm, under these tears the walls came down. And the snake is drowned and as I look in his eyes, my fear begins to fade recalling all of those times. I could have cried then. I should have cried then. And as the walls come down and as I look in your eyes my fear begins to fade recalling all of the times I have died and will die. It's all right. I don't mind. I am too connected to you to slip away, to fade away. Days away I still feel you touching me, changing me, and considerately killing me