Love poems have been ravaged by atrocious metaphors and shopworn clichés for centuries. And yet they continue to thrive—most probably because, when they’re done properly, they cut closer to the bone than any DM ever could. So the question remains, then, of how to pen a love poem that won’t embarrass your reader. It’s not about mimicking Shakespeare. It’s about determining the best way to bare your soul without sacrificing your edge.
Feel Before You Write a Single Word
I have seen too many people try to write love poems in the head instead of the heart. You cannot outthink feeling. If you aren’t truly feeling something—obsession, heartbreak, lust, or the feeling of thanks—it will show. I get all of my students to sit in silence before they pick up a pen. Let the person sit in your head for a while.
Some of my best lines were the result of hours spent merely remembering the sound of someone’s laugh. This kind of recollection becomes metaphor. Once that feeling has taken over, you’re then in the position to figure out a means of composing a love poem that won’t read like something from a Hallmark card.
And don’t overlook ambiance. Put your cell on silent mode. Light a candle. Set the mood like it’s a first date. If posting on the internet, recording it in a location where you feel creative might be great for Instagram visibility—romance sells, but just if it’s real.
Simplicity over Sophistication
“I prefer ‘I missed your voice this morning’ to ‘thy dulcet tones resound within my achy soul’ any day. If we’re working too hard to be poetic, we’re probably off the tracks. Simple of speech resounds with the heart more than clever.”
Shhh, tell it softly in my ear when you dare to speak the truth. One of the very first poems I wrote started off with the lines “I hated the way that you smiled at him.” It wasn’t lovely, but it was the truth. And the truth will be your guide.
When it comes to figuring out how to write a love poem that actually resonates, strip your language down. And then, when it’s naked, notice where the feeling wants to add color back in. That’s how you arrive at lines that land.
Question That Takes on Different Forms
This has absolutely nothing to do with academic style—it’s intuitive. Some feelings want to be rhymed, some don’t. Some need four lines, some need forty. But if you’re stumped, I usually suggest trying the piece in free verse to start with. It provides space for wandering, rearrangement and rediscovery.
Later, if it feels fragmented in flow, then arrange it into stanzas or add a dash of rhythm to it. First drafts don’t have to be restricted. The goal isn’t perfection but openness without collapsing.
I had a student who wrote all her poems in the format of diary entries—dated, stream-of-consciousness. It suited her style. If you’re discovering your own voice, taking a chance like that will improve your profile, whether it’s in a literature magazine, on the web, or in the presence of someone whom you truly love.
Kill the Clichés Before They Kill Your Poetry
The harsh truth is that if your poem includes something like “you’re my everything” or “my heart beats for you,” it’s dead. Love poems get to be parodies when they resort to lazy patterns.
Don’t be generic. Avoid the generic sunsets, the generic rose, and the generic hearts unless they come with something more specific. Such as: “The coffee tastes like your goodbye.” True. This sticks.
If you’re unsure if your line is a cliché, ask yourself: Have I ever read it on a mug or a pillow? If the answer is yes, eliminate it. Or—twist it. Make it bitter. Make it weird. Make it yours.
Cutting a Song
Love makes us ramble. Poetry cannot. Complete the first draft and then let it go. Wait for an hour or a day. Read it aloud. Eliminate every line that doesn’t move you. Be ruthless.
And the best in your mind at times is puffs. I discarded a stanza of mine that was fairly satisfactory to me when I saw that it didn’t make the final punch. This line? “Your name still bruises the back of my teeth.” I used it in another piece.
It’s in editing that the spell takes place. This is where a diary entry becomes poetry. This is where the skill of writing a successful love poem comes into play.
Your Last Statement Is Your Hook
Nobody recalls the middle. They recall how you conclude. A poor ending line is similar to trailing off on the last note of a musical composition rather than concluding. You would like your poem to leave some impact. Make the final moment sharp, soft, open-ended—whatever works best into your narrative—but make it intentional.
Think about what you want your character (or your reader) to experience. Pain? Hope? Resolution? Your last sentence needs to be your farewell kiss. Make it last.
Say It Like It Hurts
This section is optional, but I’m telling you: presentation counts. If you’re going to get serious with your words, provide a home for them. Handwrite it and tuck it into their book. Record yourself reading it. Print it out like a small zine and send it.
The very fact that it’s being read by you means it becomes something more than words. It becomes a gift. And that, Boss, is the essence of love poetry.
FAQs
What’s the easiest way to start a love poem?
Start with a moment. Something real that happened between you and the person. Build from that. Don’t worry about sounding poetic—just sound honest.
Should I rhyme in my love poem?
Only if it feels natural. Forced rhymes kill emotional flow. Free verse often works better for love poems that need space to breathe.
How do I know if my poem is any good?
If you feel something when you read it back, sadness, joy, ache—it’s working. If it feels flat or fake, rewrite it. The poem has to move you before it can move anyone else.
