Love poems of Frederick Douglas Harper

WILL YOU LOVE ME IF…? 
ill you love me if I’m not, 
Or will you just love me if I am; 
Will you love me if I should have, 
Or will you just love me if I do? 
Will you love me if I fail or if 
I diminish size in your eyes, 
Or will you just love me as I was; 
Will you love me if I’m paralyzed, 
Damaged, lessened, or embarrassing; 
Or will you just love me no more? 
Will you love me if I change; 
Will you love me if I am changed— 
Changed from your ideal of the lovable; 
Will you love me if…? 
Reprinted: Harper’s Poems on Love and Life, 1985. 
W

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Frederick Douglas Harper 
 
62 
LIVE AGAIN 
Don’t die with another’s death; 
Don’t die with the loss of love 
Or a dream gone sour; 
Don’t grieve, or complain, or look 
Back in regret; 
Look to the future, act in the 
Present, plan for you, and 
Live again; 
Live again for yourself and for those 
Who must depend upon you; 
Live now or you will not live well; 
Live now or you will not live long. 
Reprinted: Harper’s Romantica: On Peace and Romance, 1988. 

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LOVE POEMS of Frederick Douglas Harper 
 
63 
DIVORCE 
ain from love’s death, unlike that from the 
Death of a love one; pain from love’s death, 
A prolonged pain that goes not away with buried 
Tears of time; images recalled from the candles’ 
Glow of a wedding cake’s reflection and the warmth 
Of a child’s eye from a shared creation; love astray 
In smithereens of shattered glass; a crushed crystal 
Of life’s love’s image blown off course by time’s 
Changes. 
Loss of affection, physical separation, and divorce; 
A cruel turn of events of lost love and loyalty; 
A rare admixture of compassion, care, indifference 
And hatred; a cauldron of a million reflective 
Thoughts, driven by repeated pain that sucks the 
Blood of past investments in contributions of time 
And energy; sacrifices of sleep and eat and conscious 
Hopes for sweet revenge in defense of hurt feelings 
For the sake of nothing but self-content. 
Loss of affection, physical separation, and divorce; 
Smiles turned to frowns, promises to naught, and 
Pleasures to pain; yesterday’s toast of wine glasses 
Broken and cut and wet all over, and love’s honey 
P

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Frederick Douglas Harper 
 
64 
Turned vinegar sour to wine’s wasted mess among 
Hopes scribbled on a white table cloth. 
Loss of affection, physical separation, and divorce; 
Doubts about identity, trust, and self-pride; 
Love still, love nil—confused thoughts and hopes of 
Minds now vetoed by twisted hearts. 
Reprinted: Harper’s Romantica: On Peace and Romance, 1988. 

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