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Best Poems Written by Ian Kilfoil

Below are the all-time best Ian Kilfoil poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

Details | Ian Kilfoil Poem

Taken Me Down - For You

When all the delicate words are gone,
and all the subtle innuendoes have been written,
and my polite stance is overcome by passion;
patience ended by passion,
all that's left for me to say,
is "I want you".
"I love you"
"I want to kiss you".
"I want to make love with you, now".
I just cannot continue
my lattice work of words.
Unrequitted love has finally taken me down,
end of story.

Details | Ian Kilfoil Poem

I Beg You

Somewhere within your silence,
I've become a nomad,
wandering helplessly around
the barren desert you've created,
hopelessly searching 
for the illusive mirage that you've become.
Yet all I see is the vast sunlit horizon,
that I'll never reach.
It's all in your hands now,
I am just a broken soul aimlessly wandering.
I beg you,
show me your mirage,
let me bask in it's beauty,
let me hear the tender sounds
of your poetic waterfall,
and let me be healed,
by your gentle, cool, calming breeze,
flowing within my soul once more.

Details | Ian Kilfoil Poem

Somewhere Between the Lines and Your Soul

So tired is my soul this eve,
and my heart hangs heavy within me,
I've finally purged to the paper,
the words I've needed to
for so long,
although a release,
a strange sort of relief,
I grieve too
for meanings lost
somewhere between the lines
and your soul.
My intentions so deep,
I drowned myself beneath them.
Yet finally,
after purging my angst,
I shall rise to the surface,
and live freely once again.

Details | Ian Kilfoil Poem

Fare Thee Well - An Irish Dirge

Sad war torn country
rolling hills spattered with blood,
lush green grass, to mud,
brothers marching off to war,
sons running off to their fate.

Fair thee well she said,
and kissed him upon the lips,
return to me love,
“Fair thee well my sweet Michael, 
Fair thee well, fair thee well now.”

High upon the banks,
is where she lost her lover,
a hero’s ending,
though no comfort does it bring,
years ago, she mourns him still.

Softly she sings there,
as she lays upon his grave,
softly she cries there,
“Fair the well my sweet Michael,
Fair thee well, fair thee well now.”

Details | Ian Kilfoil Poem

Ice Storm - Haiku

Crystal branches crack,
a sharp wintry orchestra,
flowing through the air.

Light cascades on snow,
diamonds falling from the sky,
meet the shining earth.

Icicles hanging,
precariously balanced,
show beauties danger.

The winter ice storm,
in all her harshness and rage, 
has shown her beauty.

Details | Ian Kilfoil Poem

Esopus Creek - Haiku

Crystalline colors
cascade over smooth, worn rocks,
sun skims the surface.

The ancient creek flows,
dancing upon waterfalls,
as the seasons change. 

Glorious to see,
as smooth liquid jewels may run,
melting in the sun.

Eternal beauty
this peaceful running wonder,
leaving me in awe.

Details | Ian Kilfoil Poem

My Tropical Paradise

Sea shell eyes shine like jewels
amidst the smooth white sands
of my love.
Ancient treasures buried there,
for only me to find.
The tropical sun
heats our bodies,
as we touch the warmth inside.
The breeze, her breath,
tantalizing upon my skin.
She is perfumed 
with the scent of the sea 
and salt air,
and I long to bury myself
in her aroma.
Deep within the ocean waves,
her whispered
“I love you’s”echo,
and as the waves peak 
and crash to the shore,
we come together
in one final natures rush,
as one.
She is,
my tropical paradise.

Details | Ian Kilfoil Poem

Cinquains For Her

Night dreams
bring you to me,
aglow with tenderness,
shining love beyond the borders
of time.

Your hands,
warmth covers me,
through the darkness of night,
your soul a soft blanket for mine,
I smile.

Your voice,
whispers to me
secret words to my ear,
promising what the night can bring
for us.

Your skin,
touches my own,
in a sweet heated bliss
we have fed on love and are full,
at last.

Details | Ian Kilfoil Poem

The Poet's Wall

He sits quietly at his desk,
staring at the blank page,
cigarettes and a cup of coffee
his only companions.
He’s lost in his own head,
needing to write,
yet, as if he were in a stupor 
nothing comes.
He knows his head is 
his own worst enemy,
for when he needs to write the most,
nothing comes at all,
except for a pattern of tears,
on the blank page,
I guess you could call that art.
so, he tapes that page to the wall,
and starts anew,
and the walls,
well the walls are papered,
with tear stained pages.

Details | Ian Kilfoil Poem

Maybe Tomorrow

I waitin silence,
the phone refuses to ring,
maybe tomorrow.

In disappointment 
Icall the phone company,
ringer is working.

I stare atthe phone,
as if willing it to ring,
clock says 2am.

Tears filling my eyes,
I finally drift to sleep,
maybe tomorrow

* I know Haiku's are supposed to be about nature, but this one just came to me in thisform.