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Spring Lonely Poems | Spring Poems About Lonely

These Spring Lonely poems are examples of Spring poems about Lonely. These are the best examples of Spring Lonely poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

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Details | Romanticism | |

A Flower's Funeral

A sweet flower's funeral
displayed in the cold months
of snowy weather and bone chilling shivers.
A sweet flower burned away, dried up;
buried six feet under.

Oh, my sweet flower,
how you once bloomed with no remorse,
like a madman blooming with beauty
and a glorious halo over your head
shinned with such power and blinding glory.

Oh my sweet flower how you have gone now,
resting in peace in the land of paradise.
Oh, my heart it is weak when I see your face,
of once beautiful smiles and warm embraces.
I can hear your crying out to be free.

Snowing and bone chilling cold ripes at my soul
and feelings of sorrow rage through my blood,
boiling my hatred to the world, for losing your
sweet and ever glorious beauty.

What I would give away, if I could be with you
one last night, one last night together
to hold you in my arms, to smell your sweet perfume
that brings back sweet memories of you and I.
What I would do to be with you,
such romance travels through my heart in the highways
of my veins in my body, love is all throughout me,
and my heart breaks when pictures of you start to collect dust.

My love for you, my sweet flower,
is still ingering through the air,
as I travel and look upon a tombstone
which shows your beautiful name.

Come to me my dear flower,
when spring comes,
come to me my dear, sweet flower.
And bloom once again,
twice as large as last year,
and ten times more beautiful then last year.
Come to me in the first months of spring
in my dreams, so I could sit and talk with you.
I miss you already,
and my heart crys,
my eyes flood with tears of sorrow.
I miss our love we shared.
Long walks,
cosy talks,
warm cuddling embraces
and beautiful displayed in a picture frame.
Now I hear the tapping of raindrops on my window pane.
That is all that keeps me company,
that and the rose you gave to me
and a picture of you and me.
Love is endless, even when blue eyed Death comes to visit
and play a game of chess with us,
we all play our game, my love.
I shall go tonight
in my sleepy slumber
and dream of you in the times of our height in our love for each other.
My lost love, you are gone, resting in paradise,
but never forgotten my sweet flower.

-10/6/2013-


Details | Romanticism | |

Am I Crazy, to Love You

Am I crazy, or am I just talking to myself?
Look at yourself,
Crazy maniac
dacing through twilight suns
in sunshine colored dresses.
And you say I'm the crazy one.
Please, don't make me laugh,
I am too much annyoid with taught lessons,
of life and death and love is a magical thing
but I am not impressed till my Gypsy Queen
comes up from the shoreline of the Middle East
and comes and lays next to me, as we watch the ships sail
through the Golden horn of Old Istanbul
into the bay of Asia Minor.
You say I am crazy, Am I or am I just talking to myself.
I believe I am having a conversation that has no end about your beauty,
I talk to whomever has an open ear, and even if people listened,
Who would care about what I have to say?

Since I first laid eyes upon your beauty,
I melted and you took my sanity away from me,
you took my innocence away and turned me into a worried monster.
I love you, and you take me home with you
to meet your father and mother,
both poets who made love and created a beautiful poem called you.
I am in love with you, your songs you sing,
sounding better than a nightingale in the midst of the twilight.
Walking the seashores with your mother as I talk to your father.
He isn't listening, all though he is a good actor,
for he acts if he knows what I say to him.
I talk of you and marriage,
throwing of the rice, exchanging of the golden crowns,
the tolling of church bells, and a happy reception afterwards.
The honeymoon, meant for the first born to carry on the family crest.

As we grow old, I want to grow old with you
Nothing now, a few thousand miles of ocean and sea
seperates us from each other.
Do not worry, for I shall come one day
in the month of May, your mother's favorite month
and I shall bring along a golden ring, a pearl necklace and two roses.
We shall walk the streets together hand and hand,
and wait for the wedding guests to arrive and see us on our way
to new beginnings in holy mantrimony.
Care for me,
I ask you one question, Am I crazy, or am I just talking to myself?
Talking to white walls that don't responed with life.
I need you, too give me a straight answer, to love me
embrace me with your beauty and let me drink from your knowledge.
For my sweet Persian Bride, I shall love you for eternity.
Now, come off the beach and cross the crossing paths
of mortality and morality and join hands with me,
as we sing the nights away, along with the sweet nightingales.
As we look into each other's eyes
I ask you, am I crazy to love you?


Details | Lyric | |

Nature's Sigh

The Black butterfly waves away her adorations
All she seeks is seclusion, subsuming slave to mortification
The Dear Air is all she can breath, captive of imaginary dreams
The Beacon resonates, but the hope isolates
The Wasteland's silky fingers caressing the virgin's face

So she is now, the covet of the damned
Programmed to every victim's pain
Carrying the weight of every sorrow
Drowning in wrongs she does not know
But paradise is at loss; she must go

Nature sighs after the bite
All my hopes fading
Don't look at me with those sorrowful eyes
How do you know exactly what I'm feeling?
I'm just the ghost flower passing by
And you can hear nature's sigh


Details | Free verse | |

September Weather

Ah, the september weather is here,
the trees turn firery red and orange,
and the leaves gently fall to the surface.

Fall is here,
and the grass turns from green to yellow,
the souls of many change their ways.

From going on beaches in sun
to walking on wet streets,
with jackets on.

September weather is here,
too most it is depressing to see,
such change in the world.

But I love it.
The girlfriends and boyfriends go away,
and that makes me happy.
Then I go apple picking.

I pick red apples,
from low, hanging apple trees.
and I eat one, while walking down the trail.

Fall is here,
the time of death,
the last of sunshine.

I don't argue,
I love fall,
it is so cosy and it gives me hope.

Hope that a day will come again,
when the sun pops its head out
and the warmth returns.

September weather is the best,
when summer is gone, but not quite,
and the cool breeze sweaps through your open windowpane.

I love fall,
it gives me hope,
that with death comes life.


Details | Free verse | |

Last Sonnet



Hither I stand, at crossroads,
And then I gaze, at the yonder end-
The vague horizon from where I began;
And all that I may ever deem
Is that- my days
Have been a waken dream.

Hither I stand, at the edge of my dream;
Then I wonder, at the depth of my trance-
An adventurous journey through the wondrous woods;
An idyllic stroll through the vicissitudinous meadow;
And from the final station as I depart,
All that I can ever say, is that
Perpetuation has been a rouge
Of fleeting phases of my life.


Suyash Saxena 
St. Stephen’s College.


Details | Free verse | |

Soy Sauce Spills

Soy sauce drains 
Into the white, clustered rice
Stepped on…
spills . . . 
Soy sauce taints
The whiteness of the grain
 It slips out of my hands
No use...no point in crying out in rage
Though I was starving, 
I'll just eat another thing and start on a new page

I'm hungry like a swine
I wish I can earn back my snack!
I'm as angry as a bull
I'm about ready to attack! Attack!
Soy sauce packages
Fall unto the dirty school ground
Stepped on
By bratty, conceited teens
They really need to eat their greens
Instead of junkfood and pizza
They should drink some water
Instead of drinking sugary drinks or
 Sucking on popsicles obnoxiously
Why did the soy sauce spill? Seriously....


Details | Verse | |

A SPRING AFTERNOON ON THE FARM-Tritina

An empty barn was the home of a dog;
outside buzzing bees attacked a tiny cat...
joyful was the song of a parched bird.


An hour ago, happy was the warbling bird;
no rascals bothered the skinny, smelly cat...
they didn't get close to the hungry dog.


Rain came and it worried the shivering cat;
spring showers were the joy of the bird...
he could have been the prey of the dog.


Sunshine returned: the dog barked, the cat ran and the bird fled.


Details | Haiku | |

The Old Man in the Small Square

                          The Old Man in the Small Square

                                  

                                       city dirt as mask
                                    eternal season abode
                                    old temples his friends


                                       cloudy shelter sky
                                shuffles to collect dry leaves
                                     rusty hinge calls night


                                     passers-by eyes down
                                 loud crunching, act as pillow
                                     vulnerably wrapped



                                                                          © Shane Cogan, 2013


Details | I do not know? | |

My Madness, Me

My Madness, Me...


Confined by this straight-jacket,
strapped in, numb and dumbed,
a washed-out, has-been, also-ran,

body, eyes, the equilibrium of mind,
rattling like stones in an old tin-can.


Still, I am, 

I am,

and I am unchained,

my dreams taking flight, soaring,
above these claustrophobic walls,
of synapses, and dungeons of stone,

swooping through green valleys,
taking a detour to savour the joys,

soaked in torrential, evergreen memories,
of a younger man, with passion in his bone.

I am.

My wings unclipped, unshackled, free,

I am, and though I am unable to see,

I am.

At long last,

me...



Details | I do not know? | |

Distant African Nights

Those Distant African Nights...


1.


The shadows swayed in your candlelit room,

a cool breeze teasing your bare back,


streaks of lightning forked in the Johannesburg night,

as my hands stroked your hair,

kissing your soft mouth,

holding you,

ever so tight.



2.


You whispered that you loved me,

and I kept silent,


the rain fell, 
shadows danced,
thunder rolled,

the breeze teased your naked back,

you whispered that you loved me,
as my lips found yours,

the rain washed over our tender nights,


lightning and candlelight,

etching poems on your burnished skin,


yet,

a fear gnawed at me,

deep within.



3.


We parted ways,
and you could never forgive me, you said,


now, after numberless thunderstorms,

the rain that falls,


echo the countless tears that I have shed.



4.


You are long gone,

far away,

happy, I pray,


yet the memories persist,

those precious moments shall never, 
ever,

like the Jo'burg rains,
trickle away,

and I wish you well,
for loving me as you did,

for it was I who was not worthy,


then,


and it is I who is not worthy,


now...



5.


You were always true,


it was I who always,

always,

refused to,


to give myself,


completely to you.






Details | I do not know? | |

Your Whisper

You whispered in my ear,
a breathy secret, hushed.

“I love you”, you murmured.

I said nothing,
lost, in your arms,
I found a home. At last.

“I love you”, you said,
I said nothing,
lost in my thoughts,
I found peace. At last.

“I love you”, you said,
words failed me then.

They still do.


Details | I do not know? | |

The Swaying of the Grass

1.

 

A path leads,

to where wild grass grows,

 

sashaying in the summer breeze.

 

2.

 

Along the path,
lightness settles within,

 

feeling the grass,
swooning,
tickling ankles,

 

swaying to the lilting bird-song,

in a dance of intimate abandon,

 

brushing the remnants of pain away.

 

3.

 

Melodies float across fields of green,

delicately caressing my heart,

 

teasing emptiness to flee,

comforting the mind,

 

to silently be.

 

4.

 

Walking on,
savouring the peace,

 

a momentary respite,
from the burdens of the now,

 

all is quiet,

 

a stillness cradling fractured emotions,

 

the grass in the fields sway,

 

dusk descends,

 

shadows lengthen,

 

nudging dimming light to take leave,

 

of the day


Details | Free verse | |

Of Loving You

In winter I miss spring time rains,
In sunmmer I miss the coldness of snow,
When the sun beams down I miss the 
Clandestine moon, cool and aloof,
And
When you're not here with me,
I miss your warm embrace.
I miss the moments we share, so precious,
So treasured,
Yet
The depth of my missing you cannot be measured
In tears
Or fears
When lonliness overwhelms me.

I love you!
Missing you is but an extension of this love.
I'll be loving you, missing you, be lonely for you,
Until I am no more, and somehow, I know,
Even after.
I tell you I miss you, get lonely for you,
Not to make your spirits sag or to erase
The smile from your face.
I am only sharing a feeling of caring, of wanting and
Needing - 
As constant as the midnite hour,
As natural as winter's snow and
Summer's warmth,
Spring time flowers,
As that clandestine moon...
The stars
The trees
The grass...
I love you!
Miss you when we are not together!
I get lonely for you!

In winter I miss spring time rains,
In summer, I miss the coldness of snow!

Cynthia



Details | Free verse | |

The Fallow Plough

There are those of us, as one,
who feel greatly the indescribable
feeling
as if to probe the caverns of our non-existence--
the us which cannot be and is not
except in the small hours, the infinity of moments,
stretching beyond our belittled sense with shut, weary eyes
and the inconstant shaping of faces behind the world.
The momentous certainty of one's own death,
we know,
tolls me back, not from sleep, or fugue, or transcendence,
but by sloping box springs. Where no transient rivers lay their beds,
no eglantine or honeysuckle dapple the wild thicket groves,
no fluorescent bulbs lead to the exhaustible sun,
no tender sprigs will spring in Spring or fall in Fall, but
here, where places do not exist as we do not,
we know.
I feel no thing, and here is where I love--
a most disembodied love that cannot die
for death like we is not--
and leaden-eyed among the alien corn each sordid day, I yearn
most deeply to feel you there
as I do not feel you, my love.


Details | I do not know? | |

Red Spring Cherry Blossoms

Finally came upon such beautiful scene where the eyes cannot resist.
With such pure fragrances taking away the sadness and the purpose of life,
Lies under these red cherry blooming trees, the sadness and painful endurance of each falling blossoms.
Each leaves and flowers reminisced of my past.
As the spring passes by, nothing is left behind. 
I pick up the red blossom flower and smile, as the spring vanished,
I faded with the season, shedding the last drop of tear surrounding by red blossoms. 


Details | Rhyme | |

The promise of Spring

Summer ended too soon
Autumn leaves falls under the moon
Snowflakes chills the winter air
As spring  flourishes with care

Raindrops will slowly pour and give the seeds
A new hope after the cold and lonely season
The sun will shine as if it has never been deprived
Of rising during the cold and lonely season

The bitterness of seeing the leaves
Cut-off from its mother branches
The sorrowful  sight of trees
Uprooted from Mother Earth

Even if the flowers are already withered
For now it’s leaves are sleeping
A new branch  will soon come out
And the tree will be soon alive again

Snow will soon vanish from your way
The leaves of hope won’t fall soon
Neither shall the trees be uprooted
That’s the promise of spring God will keep forever.