A Heart So Big

by Ken Harnisch

Funny, isn’t it,

She used to hear him say

How they set aside one day

For me to tell you

That I love you

Where, oh where,

He chided her

Is the card for February 15th?
Or July the 27th?

Or any day

In chilled November?

And she just indulged him

Knowing how his eyes

Were full of mirth

And that

Behind his back

Was a fistful

Of brilliant scarlet roses

And inside, a heart so big

It never needed

A calendar or a card

To say

The lovely words



Posted on 02/14/2003
Copyright © 2024 Ken Harnisch

Member Comments on this Poem
Posted by Melissa Arel on 02/14/03 at 02:28 PM

:-) This is very sweet.. if words could come alive, I'd want it to be these.

Posted by Kate Demeree on 02/14/03 at 02:37 PM

*smiling* Somehow I can almost hear the opening words to this. Beautiful poetry Ken. I agree with Melissa on her comment.

Posted by Amy Niggel on 02/17/03 at 11:03 PM

awww this is the by far my favorite valentines day poem that I have ever read, and considering I hate the day that has to say something. Great sentiment here that is how it should be if you are in love express it 365 days a year not just one!

Posted by Rhodora M Fitzgerald on 03/17/03 at 05:06 PM

Ahh, beautiful words and soooo true!

Posted by Madeline Pestolesi on 06/19/03 at 05:25 AM

This is really sweet and pretty. Sorry about my "unpoetic" descriptive word choice, but that's how I feel. Sweet and pretty. Very nice.

Posted by Jeanne Marie Hoffman on 07/14/03 at 10:22 PM

Extremely, extremely sweet!

Posted by Maureen Glaude on 10/18/03 at 07:58 AM

well, you may not be able to sell it to Hallmark, but I'm definitely with you on the sentiment here! their love is obvious and rich beyond all commercialism. Beautiful spirit and expression, Ken.

Posted by Leslie Ann Eisenberg on 12/03/03 at 06:57 AM


Posted by Kathleen Wilson on 11/06/07 at 04:08 PM

There is an undertone of sadness here, in the "she used to hear him say"...why nop more, we wonder. Behind his back in this poem the poet (like magician) holds the "fistful of scarlet roses"--not red or pink but the color of his deepest heart that his may hide therein. These are serious roses. So the lightness is artfully mixed with passion and, mystery and a lament, it feels to me.

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