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Long Romance Poems | Long Romance Poetry

Long Romance Poems. Below are the most popular long Romance by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Romance poems by poem length and keyword.

See also: Famous Long Poems

Long Poems
Long poem by norman russell | Details |

Forever in my heart

FOREVER IN  MY   HEART



My love for you is deep within my heart,
And in my being and my mind I know we two will never part.
I have held others as I hold you, but somehow it’s not the same,
And together we can show the world, a love that will remain.
Your touch sets me all aglow, it fills me with desire,
Then when, oh, so gently our lips meet, this Love becomes a ‘FIRE’.
One day my love we’ll be as one, never more to part.
And you will know you’ll always be.

FOREVER  IN  MY  HEART. 


N.J.R.

FOREVER IN  MY   HEART



My love for you is deep within my heart,
And in my being and my mind I know we two will never part.
I have held others as I hold you, but somehow it’s not the same,
And together we can show the world, a love that will remain.
Your touch sets me all aglow, it fills me with desire,
Then when, oh, so gently our lips meet, this Love becomes a ‘FIRE’.
One day my love we’ll be as one, never more to part.
And you will know you’ll always be.

FOREVER  IN  MY  HEART. 


N.J.R.

FOREVER IN  MY   HEART



My love for you is deep within my heart,
And in my being and my mind I know we two will never part.
I have held others as I hold you, but somehow it’s not the same,
And together we can show the world, a love that will remain.
Your touch sets me all aglow, it fills me with desire,
Then when, oh, so gently our lips meet, this Love becomes a ‘FIRE’.
One day my love we’ll be as one, never more to part.
And you will know you’ll always be.

FOREVER  IN  MY  HEART. 


N.J.R.

FOREVER IN  MY   HEART



My love for you is deep within my heart,
And in my being and my mind I know we two will never part.
I have held others as I hold you, but somehow it’s not the same,
And together we can show the world, a love that will remain.
Your touch sets me all aglow, it fills me with desire,
Then when, oh, so gently our lips meet, this Love becomes a ‘FIRE’.
One day my love we’ll be as one, never more to part.
And you will know you’ll always be.

FOREVER  IN  MY  HEART. 


N.J.R.

FOREVER IN  MY   HEART



My love for you is deep within my heart,
And in my being and my mind I know we two will never part.
I have held others as I hold you, but somehow it’s not the same,
And together we can show the world, a love that will remain.
Your touch sets me all aglow, it fills me with desire,
Then when, oh, so gently our lips meet, this Love becomes a ‘FIRE’.
One day my love we’ll be as one, never more to part.
And you will know you’ll always be.

FOREVER  IN  MY  HEART. 


N.J.R.

FOREVER IN  MY   HEART



My love for you is deep within my heart,
And in my being and my mind I know we two will never part.
I have held others as I hold you, but somehow it’s not the same,
And together we can show the world, a love that will remain.
Your touch sets me all aglow, it fills me with desire,
Then when, oh, so gently our lips meet, this Love becomes a ‘FIRE’.
One day my love we’ll be as one, never more to part.
And you will know you’ll always be.

FOREVER  IN  MY  HEART. 


N.J.R.

FOREVER IN  MY   HEART



My love for you is deep within my heart,
And in my being and my mind I know we two will never part.
I have held others as I hold you, but somehow it’s not the same,
And together we can show the world, a love that will remain.
Your touch sets me all aglow, it fills me with desire,
Then when, oh, so gently our lips meet, this Love becomes a ‘FIRE’.
One day my love we’ll be as one, never more to part.
And you will know you’ll always be.

FOREVER  IN  MY  HEART. 


N.J.R.

FOREVER IN  MY   HEART



My love for you is deep within my heart,
And in my being and my mind I know we two will never part.
I have held others as I hold you, but somehow it’s not the same,
And together we can show the world, a love that will remain.
Your touch sets me all aglow, it fills me with desire,
Then when, oh, so gently our lips meet, this Love becomes a ‘FIRE’.
One day my love we’ll be as one, never more to part.
And you will know you’ll always be.

FOREVER  IN  MY  HEART. 


N.J.R.

FOREVER IN  MY   HEART



My love for you is deep within my heart,
And in my being and my mind I know we two will never part.
I have held others as I hold you, but somehow it’s not the same,
And together we can show the world, a love that will remain.
Your touch sets me all aglow, it fills me with desire,
Then when, oh, so gently our lips meet, this Love becomes a ‘FIRE’.
One day my love we’ll be as one, never more to part.
And you will know you’ll always be.

FOREVER  IN  MY  HEART. 


N.J.R.

FOREVER IN  MY   HEART



My love for you is deep within my heart,
And in my being and my mind I know we two will never part.
I have held others as I hold you, but somehow it’s not the same,
And together we can show the world, a love that will remain.
Your touch sets me all aglow, it fills me with desire,
Then when, oh, so gently our lips meet, this Love becomes a ‘FIRE’.
One day my love we’ll be as one, never more to part.
And you will know you’ll always be.

FOREVER  IN  MY  HEART. 


N.J.R.

FOREVER IN  MY   HEART



My love for you is deep within my heart,
And in my being and my mind I know we two will never part.
I have held others as I hold you, but somehow it’s not the same,
And together we can show the world, a love that will remain.
Your touch sets me all aglow, it fills me with desire,
Then when, oh, so gently our lips meet, this Love becomes a ‘FIRE’.
One day my love we’ll be as one, never more to part.
And you will know you’ll always be.

FOREVER  IN  MY  HEART. 


N.J.R.

Copyright © norman russell


Long poem by Maurice Yvonne | Details |

Hot And Cold Comes The Night


LIST POETRY - A FUTURISTIC INTERPRETATION You must know I cried yesterday and I think I broke the world so I braided some words into twine planted some sweet and sour coated seeds I grew free standing expressions and then I joined them with left over thread to present these interlocking pieces in their proper order regardless of the number they wear in an attempt to confuse and deceive. I offer this humble list for your reading enjoyment It is an honour to have you visit my page. The pleasure I assure you is all mine WORDS ON PAPER - THE LIST FIVE I loved you centuries before we were born. You lived in my dreams before I ever slept. When others wasted time picking flowers I waited for when it was time to pick you. Love calls you in the natural scent of your partner. You'd feel their touch in the vacuum of outer space. Your desire for them would melt away the ice age. I want to find a door in the brightest part of the sky I could open to erase what was, to shine a light so bright it, like a book of golden words, would write ideas so vital as to eradicate even a suggestion of our mournful past. I want to be that magician who does not bother with illusion but rather heals wounds and shatters burden. TWO We were at the fair, joviality in the air. A memory filed, I was a young child holding balloons floating round like full moons in vivid colours bright. Fixed on this joyous sight I was on Cloud Nine proud these were mine. If I had not let go of them. If I hadn't watched them as they flew higher and higher as my heart sunk lower and lower I might of never learnt what it felt like - hurt. Hope gloats, hope floats. either your way or just away. THREE sometimes the afternoon sun is.....too hot to walk barefoot........on the concrete path still even then.......I refuse to wear my hat I guess I'll never change, I'm just like that. sometimes when I jump in the lake in late summer... with all of my clothes on...I do it in the evening......as I go down...way down to the bottom...there's a gentle peace overtakes me..I want to stay down like a rock... revel in the ecstasy...not swim back up..........not ever SEVEN ours was a paper mâché love living in a cut out cardboard home with a macaroni art painted lawn and nothing real to call our own nothing solid that we could hold. we tried stacking lego bricks but you have to be able to pop your cheek to qualify as a kid - to get a license to build. the castle we assembled didn't pass the test. so much for fairy tales - hello reality check. we rolled the dice but our thimble went straight to jail and our mouse ended up trapped. can you hear that buzzing the operation failed. where are you going? your tricycle is still in the shop and I might as well tell you..............I have no eights................."go fish!" we fell through the bunny hole where i - jack fell ddddownnn nnnnnnn and broke my crown and you - jill came tumbling aaaaaaaaaaafterrrrrrrrrrrrrrr EIGHT it is a choreographed ballet our love stands strong legs at the base digging deep build roots delicate hands branched out reach high long slim fingers define twigs draw space the body of our trunk thick sweet filled music fills our human needs one sound wind pixies dance meticulously the air sunlight leaks effectively through dark spots lifts carries holds and shapes our smiles it is a choreographed ballet our love in sync our bodies their senses once immersed in I now us ONE I know the last thing I want to feel as I leave this world, it is your lips on mine. When I take my last breath I want to feel yours with its loving touch. NINE Always, no matter the roar or intensity of the storm how severe the attack even out of the norm Always, i offer my hand with sincerity aim to deal with it peacefully. Always! SIX then suddenly it hits like a swarm of locus. a deep dark manifestation that greases my mind my very existence in its unforgiving sense of doom. every bone stiffens, when I move, a sound of dead dried out forest twigs breaking against the boots of hikers echoes in the confined space of my skull. i reach for a pill slowly it dissolves under my tongue i wait and i wait and i wait ... my body is soaked in a sweat with its own cold and hot tap. i assume the position, lying on an unstable floor. the creature depression is now in full control of my faculties. this too i will survive ...that is what i do...what i do...this is what i do.......somehow i survive. FOUR there is a deafening hush... silently raging through the core of my existence...still...I am humbled by the light and the love I have witnessed in my brief appearance...........here on Earth there is a river...that walks at my side... walks with me........at the same stride... April 14 2015 Armand

Copyright © Maurice Yvonne


Long poem by Laura Breidenthal | Details | . You can read it on PoetrySoup.com' st_url='http://www.poetrysoup.com/poem/light_on_the_devils_chord___day_8_686936' st_title='Light on the Devil's Chord - Day 8'>

Light on the Devil's Chord - Day 8

Contemplating on a previous conversation with Job and his wife,
I drew a breath of relief, remembering my humbling purpose
Sin was imminent on my brow, though I was beyond its impetuosity
Suffering dines with long-lived perspective, sharpening what would be—
In the wrong claws—feeble, bittersweet and opaque….

“You wish to humble me, woman,
Though only ride upon the uproar of time-ticking eruption
Breathing as if your own endurance will salvage your soul
You are in MY prison… MY pain . . . MY pride
No word from your conscientious lips changes who I am
Who I was, and who I always will be…
Humble me, woman, I dare you to cross that line,
Happily I will drink your sadness of futility like freshly squeezed wine
In time, babe, in sweet high-fly time…
I will sing with you like ever I did before,
Remember those duets?
Those dances we both know you floored and wanted more…” 

My eyes opened to his mind and I crept to his side…
“Job spoke to me about the death of his wife and children, 
How he sobbed and pounded the earth with his fists, 
Fumbling in the thoughts of “tell-me-what-have-I-done-to-deserve-THIS?”
He suffered because of you, as I do too,
And as all demons will agree, 
His self-absorbed mind recalled all of his right doings
He examined and uprooted all of his blooming flowers,
So that all his once good deeds began to rot in God’s eyes
For his self-righteousness gutted the wounds like hungry growing flies…”

He laughed, his voice deep, ravenous and dissonant in the tunes surrounding…
“Speak of good Job, as he suffered for me, 
Too good for the boils and scrapes of death surrounding so free,
The claws crushing his useless frame,
Mortality was his challenged artifice for stupidity,
Crying for silly things long gone…
Long taken for my amusement… he sung a sadder tune than you, dear daughter of dawn
He cursed his life once filled with blessings, 
Never resting his mouth….never resting…
Just as you hold on the sudden gift of immortality,
Just as you wrestle with your  ever-flawed will,
The same human qualities of foolishness reside in you still…”

He turned to me, looking in my eyes with accusing glee,
Masking his pain for my pain…..
So in stronger melody, I again sang,
“The sufferings prolonged his existence to prove his endurance was not in vain,
To prove he could see beyond his self-indulgence—beyond material things…
His human ways humbled you to shame…
For he sustained himself in all of your inflictions to gain….
No longer was he clinging to his glorification
No longer did he feel the need to proclaim his righteous endeavors,
For the true leader can use the worst intent as a tool,
As useful trial and test, 
Not only to humble the fool, but to fatigue the evil pest.” 

This infuriated our Prince so that he clawed the ground near my feet,
Seething in the words that kept running from my mouth, 
Words that intended to speak of Job’s heroism,
And not to illuminate a weaker spot in his most hardened plate of armor

“I bargained for the amusement, not the outcome
I was never a tool for your God,
But a tool to my own pleasure and divide
I will never tire…I swear I will never tire…”

This was his only musical argument…

“We must look beyond ourselves in the face of horror and helplessness,
For in Job’s suffering, many others soon to come witnessed his miracle of atonement, 
As a human I once was, treasures I sought from above, 
And not in the achievements…the monuments of words etched in stone…
No man of faith needed a clear stand of history…
His suffering was rightfully recorded to let rise the glory of better things…”

Demons from all sides laughed, and The Devil stood still,
Livid with my swaying presence

“The longer you detain your humanistic frame,
The rise of your sure desire,
 The longer you fight in your trial you have created…
The more futile you will become,
The more fulsome in this prison I will be….” 

His claws carved a circled in the muck around us,
Zeroing in and demanding my interest…

“The more you dwell on such sufferings of the past,
And I mean not Job’s………
The more you will enjoy the pain I inflict upon you…
This I vow, woman, for you have crossed the line…
And you are in my circle now….” 

Copyright © Laura Breidenthal


Long poem by Roy Jerden | Details |

La Bejarena

La Béjareña

Oh sweet Angel of Jesus, wherefore lies your grave?
Your blood that is of Navarro, that Corsican so brave
She was a proud Tejana, such a beauty once they say
That enchanted Santa Anna, so far back in the day

On fairy feet she floated in Béjar’s promenade
Like radiating moonbeams her beauty was conveyed
Mantilla and peineta in the latest Spanish style
Caballeros peacocked near her, each hoping for a smile

But for noble Béjar maidens, any glancing was taboo
Except for caballeros that her family nodded to
A curtsey and a flourished bow were the courtly ways
Of greeting one another back in those golden days

Such a fine tradition was the Béjar promenade 
To the Veramendi Palace, perhaps a masquerade
Or to dance a light fandango by the river’s perfumed air
All seemed much more beautiful when close to one so fair

Those were the days of wonder, when Béjar was so sweet
Before the revolution, and the Alamo’s defeat
Before some Anglos came to take with gun and Negro slave
The land that brave Tejanos had bled and died to save

Béjar was filled with drunkards, and rogues of every kind
No promenade was possible in streets so unrefined
And over near the Alamo, where freedom’s price was dear
The price was now determined by the slavery auctioneer

And yet one Anglo gentleman, a major in the war
Touched with noble chivalry, and the ways of a señor
The captured despot’s life did save, upon that victory day
From those who would have hanged the knave, down San Jacinto way

The moment that she met him, in the formal Spanish style
And looked into his honest eyes without a trace of guile
And read his soul so brave and pure, it seemed that time stood still
As nature linked their hearts as one, according to its will

A thousand days of happiness, a thousand days of bliss
Were all that God would grant them both before their final kiss
She laid her hero in his grave, and took their son in hand
And thought of how to speak to him and make him understand

Her gentle eyes had lost their shine; her hair was touched with gray
They wed her to the Dunker man, who took her far away
He never knew her sorrow, he never knew her soul
Inside her lonely citadel of iron self-control

He left her for another wife, and cast them all aside
But a mother’s duty to her sons would never be denied
And at the age of fifty-six, the time at last arrived
When she could welcome willingly the deadly reaper’s scythe

Oh sweet Angel of Jesus, wherefore lies your grave?
Your blood that is of Navarro, that Corsican so brave
By the village of Las Moras, down Rio Bravo way?
No one seems to know for sure, unto this very day

Oh, sons of Navarro!  Let not that Béjar rose
Lie with the dust of strangers, where no one ever goes
Join her with her heart's true love, on acres gently blessed
With shady hills below pecans, where heroes go to rest

Notes:
This historical poem is about one of my HS classmate's Tejano (in the original 
sense) ancestors from the time of the Texas Revolution and the story is told 
from that perspective.

The main characters are not named in the poem intentionally, and place names 
are the old Spanish ones, but I will share with you the names of the 
protagonist and her true love, in case you are interested in reading about 
them. Her name was Angela de Jesus Maria Blasa Navarro. She was the niece of 
Juan Antonio Navarro, one of the signers of the Texas Declaration of 
Independence and a member of the important Navarro family of Bejar, present 
day San Antonio. She married William Gordon Cooke, one of the heroes of the 
Texas revolution, who is buried on Republic Hill at the Texas State cemetery 
along with other notables. Angela was buried near Brackettville, originally called 
Las Moras.


The Dunker man was Angela's 2nd husband, Abraham Geiger Martin. He was a 
member of the German Baptist Brethren church, nicknamed Dunkers because 
they practiced full body baptism, but required three full immersions before you 
were properly baptized. Apparently the marriage was a total failure and he 
divorced her, leaving her to raise his son and William Cooke's son alone.

Copyright © Roy Jerden


Long poem by James Kelley | Details |

As the Castle Fell

For every step I take toward the sun,
the spark that lit the fire inside me dwindles.
History slated on unforgiving stone erodes;
A weakly chiseled dream.
But I will remember it all,
and tongues shall breed these words
and hold them with intent.
Oh, how we have fallen!
Mighty and meek alike.
We were once just, and strong.
But greatness has cast down it's
poisoned banquet and corrupted hearts
that once bled for glory.
It is with a bitter tongue I speak these words!
Remember the reason we set foot outside
of our city gates.
Remember the certainty in your hearts;
that we men would give people hope!
Hope for life without malice.
Hope for a life of freedom!
A chance for prosperity!
                   ...but what prosperity have we given?
Short of the bountiful throng of arrows that have captured
the eyes of this land and left it's people in fear?
Does a just King rule with the might of fear?!
Or does a King rule with compassion?
I ask you men,
you loyal few.
What would you have me do?
Would you have me slaughter this woman;
this beautiful princess of her people and take her
home as a prize for conquest merely because her
husband was the one that stood in the way?
Is her beauty the cost of her life?
She has wronged not one of us,
and yet you Brakkdus scoff at the thought of
her surviving her King. Why?
Here I thought men of honor followed me,
I thought men of courage swung my blades!
And, yet you fear this woman who could no
sooner do you harm than your own from the
bed that you left her in!
No, Princess Xavia shall survive her King
and remain here with her people.
I refuse to conquer the land of a tyrant,
only to settle for it's fallen ruler's morality!
If that does not befit you, then surely I am not your King.
-James Kelley 2013, All rights reserved
 
 
Princess Xavia's Response
 
 
I stand with humility before such valor
My people have borne
the burden of swords and arrows,
they are silent with fear and trembling before you
Which would be yours
to burden them with once again
yet you offer them freedom
and me my life...when you could shame not only me
but those who are entrusted to me
I would prefer to fall upon the blades of your men
than to become flesh passed amongst them
the destiny of a woman
who has became the chattel of a lost victory
My blood be shed before such shame
be cast upon me
Yet you.... you have offered me back my Kingdom
and restored my name
 
Gallant your soul in the shadow of such a night
beneath the dark stars
where only the flames of a burnt, ashen city
provide any warmth for my grieving people
You have offered them hope
through a frail vessel such as myself,
such honor is seldom written upon the hearts of men
in days such as these
Your compassion is a light in this darkness
these times inscribed with blood
such is this age,
when the voice of stones speak more gently
than the hearts of men
 
Dark are these days and black is the moon
of these nights,
in these lost reveries we journey through
dreams that have become nightmares
Yet strength has arisen in one man,
a leader who throws light back
at the fallen stars
granting the nights a moment of solace
for your honor has returned hope
a light stronger than blaze of the midday sun
 
And as I take back my broken people
we shall take refuge in your kindness and in that light of lights
shall we rebuild this Kingdom,
our sanguine ties shall bind us
and we will rise.
 
 
I gratefully accept my life
returned to me through your kind hands
And secretly, within a whisper
it is my prayer
that when I look upon your countenance
and the time comes
that I shall gaze into your eyes again
it shall be as the queen you have restored
to her throne and to her people
and who keeps quietly within the space between her heartbeats
gratitude...
and the hope that she will share her throne
beside yous
should you find her efforts and her heart
worthy.
 
 
 
(c)  Katherine Wyatt 2013

Copyright © James Kelley


Long poem by curtis johnson | Details |

If I A Star

   The Lone Star
By Curtis Johnson

As usual, the stars, way out there in the distant sky,                                                   will probably be out tonight.
If it should become cloudy or foggy,                                                                               they might become hidden from sight
Otherwise, they will appear and fulfill                                                                                 their God given purpose, by sparkling                                                                        beautifully and bright.

If I were a star,                                                                                                                                                I would shine and light up the night, just for you.

If I were a star,                                                                                                                                  I would come from afar,                                                                                                                                    from way yonder in the vast galaxy,                                                                                            and not burn out, or even delay.

If I were a star,                                                                                                                          I would beg of you to look carefully,                                                                                    
so you don’t lose sight                                                                                                                      as I make my personal flight

If I were a star,                                                                                                                                 I would be a lone star hard to miss,                                                                                          but if you are not attentive,                                                                                                      you just might.

This lone star                                                                                                                           would appear just for a while,                                                                                                    to shine its brightest on its given date.                                                                                                       

This lone star                                                                                                                            would be programmed just for you,                                                                                  and guaranteed to not be late.

This lone star                                                                                                                         would arrive right on the scheduled  time,                                                                          just to smile and shine for the dearest friend of mine.

No, I am not a star, but if I were,                                                                                               I would make history                                                                                                              I would arrive special delivery,                                                                                                      and shine just for you                                                                                                                  

Cj050608

Copyright © curtis johnson


Long poem by Richard Lamoureux | Details |

A Man and the Moon Prose Version

Sebastian looked at the moon, the source of his inspiration. When the Moon appeared in its silvery glory, he was profoundly moved to write. Sadly he could only write during a full moon. This was a problem which perplexed him. He had waited many days for the full Moon to appear so that he could put his plan into action.

When Sebastian would write a poem during the full Moon his readers would be moved to tears. His prose had wooed many a young heart, his songs had been sung to princesses. Countless women had named their children in honor of him. His words were distilled romance with power beyond the comprehension of ordinary men. The problem however was that Sebastian was unable to meet the demand. Strong men would beg for but a few lines to capture their true loves heart. Without the Moon, when Sebastian would try to write it felt like his tongue was wrapped around his hand. Nothing flowed little made sense, he was like an inexperienced teen unfamiliar with the ways of love. How Sebastian longed for the Moon during those long nights.

So here he was with his enchanted pen in hand, at the end of the pen was a golden strand. Sebastian went out to capture the Moon. He swung the pen in large loops over his head releasing it with tremendous force. The pen hurtled towards its target the tip of the fountain pen struck the centre of the Moon sinking deep into its surface. Sebastian pulled with all his might each movement of his hand brought his prize closer and closer. As the moon came closer there was no evidence it was increasing in size. Once the moon was in hand it fit perfectly in his pocket. Sebastian felt gleeful as he carried the Moon into his home, everything was going according to his plan.

Once inside he removed the Moon from his pocket and bathed in it's other worldly light. As Sebastian dislodged his pen from the surface it began to drip with the Moon's tears. Magnificent lines beyond anything he had ever hoped. Songs, poems, prose, the mysteries of the ages flowing onto his pages day after day year after year. His home overflowed with his treasures, the realization of his poetic dreams.

Still he had no joy, no one knocked on his door. Lovers could not walk in the Moonlight, wolves couldn't bay at the Moon. Romance was no longer in the air. The night was a thing to be feared. Sailors could not find their ways home, if they did their lovers no longer waited for their return. Some refer to this as the Dark Ages. Art creativity had all but dissapeared. The Oceans stood still with no Moon to guide the tides. Meanwhile Sebastian continued to write.

The Moon asked to see the Ocean so Sebastian took it for a walk. As they walked along a lonely secluded beach the Moon began to increase in size. The Moon summoned the Ocean to it's rescue. A huge wave came up on shore plucking the moon from Sebastian's hand. As the Moon was floating out to Sea Sebastian swam out to reclaim his treasure. Sebastian jumped on the Moon as a gigantic hand like wave tossed the Moon back into space. As the moon traveled back to its home it became larger and larger brightening the nights sky. Lovers came out to kiss captivated by the silvery glow.  If they look close they can see a man with a fountain pen held in his hand. Wolves cry for him as they bay at the moon.

On the Moon Sebastian sits all alone with his fountain pen in hand, he fills the pen with his tears. He longs to write the words trapped in his heart yet there is not a page in site. Even if there was there is no one to read his words or to sing his songs. The Moon was once his Muse and then his greatest prize. Now it is his prison for the rest of time.

Copyright © Richard Lamoureux


Long poem by bahram sediqi | Details |

tell my blond dream

i dont know who is she i dont know where is she from i dont know what is she doing i dont know where is she leaving but if you saw her please tell her:
youre hair remind me of sunshine*you are perfect but its just fine                                      you are the shimmer of coldest night*date palms feel jealous of your height
the ocean of your eyes is so deep*the color of red roses is a lone from your lips
if being with you is not fair*hang me with a peace of your hair                                             hoping to reach you make me smile*the best wishes for you and your regrets are mine
hoping to reach you make me over come my fears* tell her that her holy voice is like music to my ears
just imagining that you are here*makes my eyes the river of tears                                  tell her that her love is like flood*without her love i prefer to get sink in my blood
tell her that her love had filled my vessels*without her i prefer to cut this vessels                          tell her that i dream about her every night*tell her that her love makes me fly on night
the heat of her breath is burning my soul*her love wont let me sleep like a night owl                 
what if getting sink the ocean of her eyes is crime?i will burn in fire till the end of time                if reaching her is so cruel*i will dream about her like a fool
her eyes are like ocean not like a pool*i will try to reach her till my lifes glass become full           if one day i reach her oasis*i will over come my crisis
this world has always made me screw*theres lots of problems i cant pass through                i dont want to know that is my dream is false or true*just tell me will my tall blond dream come true
the reason i dont speak is not shiness*if i approach her i will break my silence           if she reach my heart walls*the walls of my castle falls
tell her that her love had destroyed my resistance* tell her that without her i dont want this existance           
how can i make my self satisfied with some drink*when her love made my heart to shrink             without her i cant sing i cant dance i cant think*if you know her please tell me some thing
shes the only flower of the spring*tell her that my tears are like a spring                   im asking her from fortune to bring*these rose gardens are her foot print
i can hear her name from canary that sings*im asking fortune to bring her to my ring                my only dream has blue eyes*with my dream even hell is nice
oceans feel jealous of her eyes*if sun see her hair it wont rise               words are not enough to explain her so they lies*shes price less but treasures have price
shes greater than black holes and hawkings explanation*she had destroyed the borders of my imagination
tell her that my heart is empty of temptation*its filled with best dreams and sensation             
 you are not lovely you are the meaning of love the perfection*if this whole world is ugly you are the only exception
you are the perfectness you are the heat of the fire*the ocean of your eyes had filled my heart with desire
my heart is burnt with your fire*so the ocean of your eyes should be admired           if i said your the highest it can be im a lier*cause you are a million time higher
tell her that me and the night are both lonely*cause shes the best shes the one shes the only    tell her that the beauty of her eye brow*is a million time more than rainbow  
the wind in her hair has perfect smell*the smell that is alot more than i can tell

Copyright © bahram sediqi


Long poem by Maurice Yvonne | Details |

A Tulip Grows Under An Evergreen - Inspired By The Poets At PoetrySoup


A
fine
Parrot Tulip
in vibrant intensities 
with unique undertones
of green acquirable only in a 
few forests. A ruby red swirls within 
its petals beckons awareness of those very 
strokes that live in the lustre of your shapely lips 
like fantasy realized. Mirthful yellows in all those lacquers 
barely ever seen as one would scorch their eyes to gaze lastingly 
directly at the Sun - though I have been fortunate to witness identical 
iridescence in strands of your hair you unintentionally flip and like dainty 
fingers wave me on to move closer to your flawless frame - memorized easily.
A 
special 
fuchsia sparingly 
paints the flower they
say exists only in certain 
singular gemstones yet l know
this tincture for I have seen it in your 
cheeks when we play and laugh. Oh your 
laugh how it fills me - replacing noise surfing
the waves of sound in the surrounding atmosphere.
How enchanting when your laughter there - dwells to
tickle molecules invisible to the eyes but felt by the human
heart. Parrot tulips with their soft myriad shades become stunning 
against a deep black backdrop which shimmers bright like your ebony eyes. 
Sparkle like your smile and I grin happily just thinking of you, just thinking of us.
A 
pearl
white that also 
adorns the flower a 
special light effect I have
found in your complexion - dazzles
my mind each and every time I see you.
Parrot tulips a miracle of nature, a special
breed I admit are as remarkable as any offering 
that grows in our gardens but rarer still - you the flower 
I share my life with. No one, no thing, no life compares to you,
your approach - for every time I even think of you, the joy it brings
completes the meaning of my existence full. If not for you no other delight 
would have that extra zest I feel from the sharing of your love and light always.
A
Parrot
tulip oh 
what joy it
brings. How the flower
draws these words from
me. Ironic how true allure felt
fills our glass so I thought I'd share
with you how it uplifts my days - knowing
confident in our love as one - you'd never resent
me speaking of an elegance other than yours. So you may 
know - understand what the fibres of ones constitution compels 
them to write. Now - about a mystique other than the one you sport with
humility. Finally I have written a poem on aesthetics that does not mention you.
A
closing
monologue.
Just above and 
beneath the dirt grows 
riches unimaginable. Made to 
be absorbed by senses recognizable 
only by a few. They are free for the taking.
An appreciation, a love of a natural essence.
A flower, a person, romance you breathe incomparable
to anything real or imagined.  It alone are the wings we humans 
seek...as real and as precious as all else consumable. How lucky I 
am the magic handed out daily on these pages. The people I could never
find anywhere else then here. I am in love with their words in love with them.


the   re    frain       
is a  par    r               a 
ot  tu lip                m
hid   d                a
en u                j
   n             e
   d           s
   e         t
   r      i 
   c    
   e
    v
     e
     r
    g
   r
 e
 e
n
earthearthearthearthearthearthearthearthearthearthearthearthearthearth
r  r r  r
 o   o   oo
o      o o   o
    t      tt     t 
  s      s   s      s
r r        r   r
o  o    o        o
o  o        o   o
t      t          t     t
s   s        s       s




April 27 2015
The Gardener



Copyright © Maurice Yvonne


Long poem by Vee Bdosa | Details | . You can read it on PoetrySoup.com' st_url='http://www.poetrysoup.com/poem/monsieur_lvampyre_meets_the_werewolf_565977' st_title='Monsieur L'Vampyre Meets the Werewolf'>

Monsieur L'Vampyre Meets the Werewolf

 "Monsieur L'Vampyre Meets the Werewolf"
While walking on the path sublime
accustomed to at times, when I'm
just going neither here nor there--
   but be content to only passing time;
from my Chateau near Poitiers,
I happened to a fine display
of cutlery, so very fine,
   from sellers merely passing my own way.
Says I, I hadn't time to spare,
and no time then to see his ware,
but could at my chateau tonight--
   the man replied, he had a problem there!
He then explains his eyes grow tired--
by dark, his sleep cannot be mired,
so he will send his daughter fair,
   o! joy within my days, my heart was fired!
Anticipation all aglow,
I went to where I meant to go, 
and purchased I, the finest wine;   
   then quick I got me back to my chateau!
O! How we laughed the night away!
My choice of wine, she never say,
And then I viewed her cutlery,
   and told her I would buy the case this day!
The offer swept her off her feet,
I asked her, "if we be descrete..."
the proposition you must know,
   is sharing this cool night, some body heat!
And so led I right up the stair,
as heard I music, ev'rywhere,
or maybe just the mood I be,
   and in my private light, such beauty there!
Loved we, then well into the night,
I thought we'd rise with morning light,
and when she feigned into a trance,
  I quick set in to make our loving right;
and as I moved a lock of hair,
revealing such of beauty there,
set I my teeth, to make the mark
  for not a mark did I see anywhere!
Closed I my eyes, as she concede,
my teeth about to fill my need;
when on my shoulder were a pain--
  so sharp--like I have never known indeed! 
And in a moment, suddenly
so terrible, a cry there be,
a howling I'd not heard before
   so harsh it chilled the very soul of me!
Her skin, once smooth unto my own,
was wrinkled and some hair had grown!
and my own blood be on her chin!
   And in this dark we be there all alone!
And as I kept myself afar,
one hand held to my bleeding scar,
another howl of death there be
   by someone else, who pushed the door ajar!
Just hairy, vile and in decay
was how they looked to me, the way
a rabid dog, I'd seen before;
   and needing blood--as I need ev'ry day!
And carried he, just then I see
a blade from my own cutlery--
I'd just now paid my money down,
   now they would use that very knife on me!
Such foaming of the mouths! I knew
there not a thing that I could do
unless I make it cross the room
   where waits my derringer with bullets two!
She, groaning as if then she would
but leap on me and make it good!
But stepped I to the other side,
   then runned I just as fearful as I could!
Then quickly grabbed it to my hand,
from off the chest, how I had planned,
just as her father camed my way
   but steady then I grow, and made my stand!
I volleyed then with no adeau
a silver tip, the first of two;
deep in the heart attacking me,
   and how he cried! But fell he as I knew! 
But love hath pity if it start,
and love unfinished will not part,
so sank me there, the teeth of me
   into her neck and to her very heart.  
She fell, and back the same old way,
I'd loved so well that very day,
the fairest of the fair I knew,
   and that is just how I would have her stay;
so fired I while she lying weak
into her heart just dark and bleak,
and how I cried the night away--
   there are no words I know--to ever speak.
© ron wilson aka vee bdosa the doylestown poet

Copyright © Vee Bdosa


Long Poems