gay poems

this is a song from avenue Q, i think songs are poems too. you can find it on youtube

if you where gay
that would be o.k
i mean cause hey
i like you anyway
and if you see
if it where me,
i would feel free to say
that i was gay
but im not gay

if you where queer
id still be here
year after year
because you're dear to me
and i know that you
would accept me too
if i told you today that i was gay
but im not gay

im happy
just being with you
so what should it matter to me
what you do in bed with guys

if you where gay
id shout hooray
and here i'd stay
but i wouldn't get in your way
you can count on me
to always be
beside you every day
to tell you its o.k
you where just born that way
and as they say its in your dna
your gay!

 

im glad you like it. avenue Q is a fantastic musical

 

Shakespeare, if you want to look at it that way.

 

(!)(!)(!)(!)(!)
Yes.

 

2,4,6,8, being gay beats being straight! Ok,I'm just being silly!

 

Hm. Oscar Wilde was gay. So his poetry might have LGBT themes in it. Personally, I've never read any, I just know that he was gay

 

Do they have to be written by someone who isn't just a high school amateur?
I posted one on here a little while ago looking for some helpful suggestions.
http://www.emptyclosets.com/forum/showthread.php?t=19338
It's called Denied Scouts Honour because my best friends nickname is Scout... I have a very frustrating crush on her at the moment, that's basically the poem, lol...

 

If you go on youtube and search "Lost in Suburbia"- A Gay love poem....There is a audio version with lyrics. I used this one for a class assignment:icon_bigg

 

This is a poem called "Untitled" that was written by David Wojnarowicz, a gay artist and HIV/AIDS activist that passed away from the disease during the early 1990's.

 

ONE OF MY FAVOURITE POEMS ALERT:

You may not want to include the whole poem because it is rather long but I have bolded the part that may be of particular interest (this poem was written when homosexuality was illegal so it is hard to tell, from reading it, whether it is a gay poem or not - but it is):

I dreamed I stood upon a little hill,
And at my feet there lay a ground, that seemed
Like a waste garden, flowering at its will
With buds and blossoms. There were pools that dreamed
Black and unruffled; there were white lilies
A few, and crocuses, and violets
Purple or pale, snake-like fritillaries
Scarce seen for the rank grass, and through green nets
Blue eyes of shy peryenche winked in the sun.
And there were curious flowers, before unknown,
Flowers that were stained with moonlight, or with shades
Of Nature's willful moods; and here a one
That had drunk in the transitory tone
Of one brief moment in a sunset; blades
Of grass that in an hundred springs had been
Slowly but exquisitely nurtured by the stars,
And watered with the scented dew long cupped
In lilies, that for rays of sun had seen
Only God's glory, for never a sunrise mars
The luminous air of Heaven. Beyond, abrupt,
A grey stone wall. o'ergrown with velvet moss
Uprose; and gazing I stood long, all mazed
To see a place so strange, so sweet, so fair.
And as I stood and marvelled, lo! across
The garden came a youth; one hand he raised
To shield him from the sun, his wind-tossed hair
Was twined with flowers, and in his hand he bore
A purple bunch of bursting grapes, his eyes
Were clear as crystal, naked all was he,
White as the snow on pathless mountains frore,
Red were his lips as red wine-spilith that dyes
A marble floor, his brow chalcedony.
And he came near me, with his lips uncurled
And kind, and caught my hand and kissed my mouth,
And gave me grapes to eat, and said, 'Sweet friend,
Come I will show thee shadows of the world
And images of life. See from the South
Comes the pale pageant that hath never an end.'
And lo! within the garden of my dream
I saw two walking on a shining plain
Of golden light. The one did joyous seem
And fair and blooming, and a sweet refrain
Came from his lips; he sang of pretty maids
And joyous love of comely girl and boy,
His eyes were bright, and 'mid the dancing blades
Of golden grass his feet did trip for joy;
And in his hand he held an ivory lute
With strings of gold that were as maidens' hair,
And sang with voice as tuneful as a flute,
And round his neck three chains of roses were.
But he that was his comrade walked aside;
He was full sad and sweet, and his large eyes
Were strange with wondrous brightness, staring wide
With gazing; and he sighed with many sighs
That moved me, and his cheeks were wan and white
Like pallid lilies, and his lips were red
Like poppies, and his hands he clenched tight,
And yet again unclenched, and his head
Was wreathed with moon-flowers pale as lips of death.
A purple robe he wore, o'erwrought in gold
With the device of a great snake, whose breath
Was fiery flame: which when I did behold
I fell a-weeping, and I cried, 'Sweet youth,
Tell me why, sad and sighing, thou dost rove
These pleasent realms? I pray thee speak me sooth
What is thy name?' He said, 'My name is Love.'
Then straight the first did turn himself to me
And cried, 'He lieth, for his name is Shame,
But I am Love, and I was wont to be
Alone in this fair garden, till he came
Unasked by night; I am true Love, I fill
The hearts of boy and girl with mutual flame.'
Then sighing, said the other, 'Have thy will,
I am the love that dare not speak its name.'

 

And of course, there's always Sappho.