Letters to Juliet: Original Poetry for Valentine's Day!
By Annie Newcomer:
But soft, what light through yonder window breaks?
It is the east, and Juliet is the sun.
(Romeo, Act 2, Scene 2)
In response to our call for Love Letters and Love Poems to celebrate Valentine's Day, Flapper Press received beautifully written expressions of love in many unique and creative styles. We hope that you will enjoy reading them as much as we did. Our hope is to make this written celebration of Love an annual tradition for our readers.
Happy Valentine's Day!
From Evelyn Bowman
My dear Paul,
Without you, Valentine’s Day has lost its meaning. But even after thirteen years, I can still remember the ones we shared—the lunches, the necklace, the flowers, and more. It just seemed a good time to remind you of your importance to me.
I miss so many things about you, little and big, that enriched my life. The most important is your love, and with it your wonderful smile that seemed to transform your serious face into laughter and light and gave me great joy. I miss your strong arms around me and your encouraging words of endearment. I miss your wry sense of humor that endeared you to family and friends. I miss your easy ability to look at a problem and quietly help us come to a decision.
Yes, I wanted you to help make decisions in your final weeks. One day we were planning a ride, and I wanted your input. Your response was, “Oh, Evy, I don’t care where we go. Go wherever you would like to. I’ll go anywhere you want, as long as you are there.” Oh, and I miss your lunging at me after the elevator door was closed and we were alone, giving me a kiss and a bear hug and telling me that you loved me. Those were special moments.
The apartment is cold and lifeless without you. There’s no one to give a “yoo-hoo” to as I come in the door. Those sixty-six years were far too short, yet melded us in ways I’ll never understand. That you and I formed part of the deep meaning of each other’s lives is one of the greatest blessings that has ever come to me. I’m still in love with you as much as ever, and you are still with me every sing day, every single hour. The nights are long, and I miss your warmth. I awake in the middle of the night, search for your feet, but they are not there.
My feet are so-oo-oo cold!
I love you,
Evy
From John H.
Dear Julia,
I have always disliked Valentine Day. "Just a Hallmark day,” I’d say because if you only told someone once a year that you cared, how much could it mean? Well, this year I think I have it figured out.
As a little kid in Catholic school, the nuns would tell us about our guardian angels. I really never thought much about it, though. I am now. ou see, last year, I really saw my guardian angel and discovered that there was more than one. My guardian angels came in all different shapes and sizes. They all dressed differently, yet the same. They did different tasks, but yet the same. You see, my guardian angels came as hospice caregivers. Why do I call them my guardian angels? They helped me and pulled me through my darkest hour. When I didn’t know what the dosage was or how to administer it correctly to my partner, suddenly, my guardian angel appeared with the answer. When I was cleaning up diarrhea for the fourth or fifth time that day and my guardian angels came into the house, assessed the situation, dropped everything and said, "We will finish that for you, that is our job," I saw angels. At times I was totally stressed out and really needed to vent as I was ready to explode. I’d look up and there was a guardian angel telling me, "I understand.”
The best days of the week were the days my guardian angels were to come, and I really looked forward to the phone call or text saying they were on their way. When the situation demanded full PPE and I would tie the strings in the back for the girls, I could feel the grace of God flowing into me. The trips to the grocery store and looking around for that special treat to give to my angels made grocery shopping more fun. I had to find time to make cinnamon rolls, for sure, around Christmas, because my guardian angels might like some. Sure, I know caregivers work for a wage, but there is not enough money in the world for most people to do what caregivers do. So, I have found the real reason for St. Valentine's Day. It is a chance to tell all my guardians angels, "I love you.”
❤️ John H.
From John Tuohy
My wife Lynn wrote this to me many, many years ago. I treasure these words and have often sent them back to her.
"My love for you is what guides me through my life.”
From Diane Lobsiger
Dear girls,
I am your Mother, Grandmother and GG, Great Grandmother. I want all of you to know and believe what beautiful women you are becoming. All so strong, brave, God Loving, caring, thoughtful, artistic and creative. Most of all you make me so proud to know that whatever life throws at you, you will all stand strong together and become a force to be reckoned with. I Love all of you with all my heart, and know when I'm gone, you will carry on with God in your heart with love for all animals and those people around you who care for you. Be Happy in all things you do for yourselves but most especially for others. God Bless you all.
Hugs always, Gramma Di
From Sharon (Millenbruch) Senger
I decided to share with you a poem I had written to my fiancé a week before our marriage on June 4, 1969.
I was scheduled to graduate at the end of May from K-State in Manhattan, Kansas, and we planned to be married four days later. (My fiancé, Phil, was finishing his Master's Degree there as well.) During the weeks leading up to my graduation and wedding, I studied for finals, sewed my wedding dress, made my veil, sewed my "going-away" dress, as well as my niece's junior bridesmaid dress, and took final exams. One week before the wedding, I wrote this poem and gave it to Phil. Phil had laughingly told me we would have a trial marriage for 100 years, and if it worked out, we agreed to make it permanent!
I ran onto a copy of it shortly after Phil and I celebrated our 50th wedding anniversary. I was in the process of making up a scrapbook of pictures and notes from our 50th anniversary open house and added a few pictures from our Great Britain trip and Hawaiian trip as part of our anniversary year. I decided to add the poem near the back of the scrapbook and included with it a picture of the shadow of the two of us as we were walking in our neighborhood not long after our 50th anniversary.
My darling, remember:
When things are bad and you want to weep,
When promises are hard to keep,
When all goes wrong and debts are deep,
I am standing there beside you.
When we progress, but spirits are low,
When we work hard, but work is slow,
We try but nothing seems to go,
I am standing there beside you.
In the far distant night somewhere
Two people walk and stop and stare,
And oft reflect on past concerns and care,
I am standing there beside you.
And when our first century is past,
We shall regret that it’s the last
And not regret the shadows cast,
As I stood there beside you.
From Shane Bihani
I sleep in those
Dungeons dark.
Shadowed thoughts.
Forgotten dreams.
Skin paper thin.
Yet
When you touch me,
With your fingers of sand—
The musty mist
Of melancholy dies.
Darkness cowers
Under your effulgent shine.
My skin’s aglow
In your lilac light,
Intoxicating, my love,
I your amethyst eyes,
In your gentle kiss, is your lover’s rise.
From Renee Franklin
LOVE UNDERCOVER STYLE
Dear Modern Day Juliet,
Before I met you, I thought that for a romance to blossom, it had to be a boldly staged drama with a tragic ending. You opened my eyes. As my undercover partner, you often operate behind the curtain to make my life wonderful. Sorrow doesn’t stand a chance in our play.
Instead of scene-stealing confrontations, low-key advice is more your style. You display friendly backup support whenever public reviews let me down. You provide comforting props, such as warm dinners or sympathetic hugs, when the acts in my life don’t go quite the way I originally envision.
You also help set in motion my future success. One look from you and I already feel like a star. You find a thousand different ways to support my goals that are not in any script. Whether it is a reassuring word, running interference, or merely taking on more chores, you do whatever you can to keep my spirits up while the show is running.
Through our many years together, your faith in my performances never falters. Even when the theater goes dark. Despite life’s setbacks, I know hope will always rebound underneath covers. Our romance is blessed. So, Juliet, I promise to follow my cues and play the part of your undercover partner, too!
Your Leading Man,
Romeo
From Gerda Strobl
Dear FlapperPress,
I know you asked for love letters to Romeo and Juliet, but does the world wish to read me scolding the two selfish young fools or worse? Instead, I venture to send a letter to my first true love.
Dear English Language,
Permit me to confess that you have been my first love. Oh, yes, before you, I may have had a crush on music, but music and I just didn't click like I click with you. So the truth is, you were my first true love, and I never fell out of love since.
There, I've said it. Does that make you cringe?
If it does, do not feel bad about it, I cringe myself when I hear my accent at times. You, however, possess this remarkable rich beauty, every facet more enticing, which I so envy and adore! How could I possibly compare? How come I dare to worship you?
But your allure lies not only with your appearance and your fascinatingly varied voices, but also in your character. My own mother-tongue is such a snob, and by comparison your angelic openness to strangers shines all the brighter!
I dare not ask you to share with me all of your secrets, or intimate moments, but, dearest, please bear my presence as patiently as you have so far.
Forever yours,
Gerda Strobl
From Julie Findley
Dear Mom,
Did I ever tell you that you were my best bud?
My shopping, gardening, cooking companion.
We had fun, you and I, swapping stories.
But why did you keep your solitary secrets?
Were you happy in life? Yes, I think so, but…
Were you proud of us? Yes, I know so.
We shared our lovely lives near the end of yours.
I made mistakes, I blamed myself.
But I know that you were really ready.
You are with Dad now, and Kin.
I miss you all. After all,
You were my first, last, and best friend.
My dear Mom.
Love, Julie
From Anne Foley Rauth
What Love Is Now with You, Mr. Rauth
Love is now a 401K
That you managed to keep rising
Love is now doing consulting work
As you went through some downsizing.
Love is now our daily walk
With Abbie the Labbie by your side.
Love is now watching boys leave
Because they all have their own ride.
Love is now watching reruns
And learning about Hulu and Roku stations.
Love is now surviving a pandemic,
As we are in a never-ending staycation.
Love may look different this year,
It has changed over time.
Bu I am grateful for you,
Even if you are past your prime.
P.S., So am I
From Gail E.A. Donahue
Rendezvous After Hours
I don't say no
or make an excuse
to avoid what I want
to express
in a choreography
less nimble than it
once was in practice
yet more perfect in
vision and intention
with age.
From Bruce McClain
Heaven’s Witness
I will dip my quill in the inkwell of the evening sky
And write endless love notes on the hoary bed
Of clouds that slowly drift by.
The moon and stars are my witness. This love
I ferry, I cannot shake. For all my dreaming,
It has come to pass.
Now I stand before this wondrous hap, in awe I stare,
for this kind of love doth not come every day to me.
Who shall believe me? I am myself amused.
But I shall run and watch this dream unfold
before my eyes. I will follow to the end.
My heart will listen to the ding of chimes.
I pray this love breaks me not into pieces.
From Donna L. Knoell
My Love Poem to My Romeo!
So many endearing names mean “YOU,”
“Dear,” “Sweetie,” “Sweetheart,” and “Love”;
But it doesn’t really matter what the name is.
Because my love for you is very deep and strong!
When we met, you were so attentive,
Always paying attention! Almost protective.
Phone calls, dates, so many places to go and explore.
Such wonderful memories, ALL, and much more!
Now, with so many adventures taken and fulfilled,
The journey continues, so much more to delight in!
Travel, theater, music—so many fun times,
There is oh so much we mutually enjoy!
I appreciate your help, moral support, and encouragement
Whether professional, my adventurous dreams, or my many other pursuits,
I love you very much, and thank you,
For your continuing love—devotion, respect, encouragement, and patience.
You are very important in my life.
Oh, but I must remember to tell you that more often!
Please stay strong, healthy, and continue to dream!
Your vision, support, and your steady resolve
Are the bedrock and foundation for a great life fulfilled and enjoyed!
Our shared belief in God, the important beliefs we share,
These are SO important, embedded in our daily life together!
Our faith, our hopes, and our trust in our Maker
Keep us close, strong, grounded, and true.
You may not have realized my energy or determination at first,
But your constant support, respect, understanding, and appreciation
Keep me strong, energized, resolute, and secure,
Steadying our ‘boat’ in storms, as well as the sunny days!
All of this, and oh so much more
Describes my love for you.
And I hope you realize and recognize this love,
Every day, always, no matter what!
Caring, praying, supporting, forgiving;
Love endures—the CORE—resplendent, strong, and true forever!
From Patricia Miller (Romeo and Juliet poems) Letters Through the Veil My Darling, The beauty I see is beyond sunrise in the forest. Look for violets in the grass, thunderous waterfalls, mosaics in St. Louis Cathedral. Remember the sea gulls flying with our kites. When the porch windchimes sound, they say, “I love you.” Sit for a moment, listen to them. Enjoy Brahms’s symphony performed live. Know now I hear the angels sing. Tell me your writing class was fun, especially after you tried merlot. Twirl, show off the forty pounds you lost. Celebrate all you do. Tell me our grandson rolls over now, has outgrown the cradle I made his dad. Tell me he reaches for anything red, and he smiles my crooked smile. Tell him Grandpa climbed trees, threw baseballs, made grocery-bag kites. Keep whispering, “Grandpa loves you.” It’s your love that lets him know me. And when you wipe our grandson’s grimy smile or feel morning dew on your lips, or when you see our son kiss his wife, know I am kissing you. Love, George
My Beloved, When I see the snow-topped mountains, peer deeply into the heaven’s bluest blue, watch wheat sway in windswept prairie fields, I see you here with me. The tinkle of the porch windchime sings peace beneath a still and starry sky. Amid the storm thunder crashes, hail drums, but the chimes speak You are safe, I am here. Writing is your gift to me. You whispered, write beautiful words, share our love. Now, my pen cries and laughs, remembers and dreams when I cannot. Your grandson sleeps in a big-boy bed, his favorite color is green—just like you. He has a tool belt and hammer, asks for kisses when he smashes a finger—just like you. A month ago he climbed his first tree, up two branches. Today he went up six. At nap time I told him a story, we’d fly a kite made of kisses to you. He laughed. I feel your hand take mine when I get into bed. Hear you pray I’ll be happy. I still cry. The tears, soft on my cheeks— your finger tracing my face. know I feel your lips kissing mine. Love, Trish
FlapperPress launches the Flapper Press Poetry Café.
Presenting a wide range of poetry with a mission to promote a love and understanding of poetry for all.
We welcome submissions for compelling poetry and look forward to publishing and supporting your creative endeavors. Submissions may also be considered for the Pushcart Prize.
Submission Guidelines:
1. Share at least three (3) poems
2. Include a short bio of 50–100 words, written in the third person.
(Plus any website and links.)
3. Share a brief backstory on each submitted poem
4. Submit an Author's photo and any images you want to include with the poems
4. Send all submissions and questions to: info@flapperpress.com