Best Aching Poems
She sits alone in quiet of the night
as thoughts of him wrap ‘round her yearning heart,
and whispers ‘cross her skin; her flesh excites
while longing for his touch when they’re apart.
She yearns to gaze into his eyes of blue
while feeling his caress engulf her soul,
and have their hearts eclipse as love renews;
she longs for his return to make her whole.
She reaches for her parchment and her quill
to iterate her feelings and her doubts;
for him to know her longing thoughts instill,
and from this poet's pen, a poem pours out,
“My lonely spirit aches while you’re away,
and longs to feel your love as hearts replay.”
August 30, 2018
"May, queen of blossoms, and fulfilling flowers, what pretty music shall we charm the hours?" - Lord Edward Thurlow
Love me like an aching rose of May.
Undress the music beneath petals,
while my soul sips musky dews
of lilac dreams and velvet breeze,
sensing your scent upon my skin;
for I taste the unspoken want
in the hieroglyphics of your heart
as I turn to the lyrics of spring.
O moonlight, stay with me, I crave you,
like breathless flowers thirsting for rain...
In a far-off land, by the moonlit sea,
Two lovers once stood, as young as could be,
Hand in hand, they pledged their love,
A promise to keep, on wings of a dove.
But fate had other plans in store,
And soon the lovers were forced to part,
Torn from each other's arms, their hearts sore,
With aching, longing, and broken heart.
The boy went west, to seek his fortune,
To make a life, to build a home,
While the girl stayed back, in her old town,
To tend the land, to be alone.
Years went by, and the boy did well,
He built a castle, tall and grand,
But his heart remained an empty shell,
For he was far from his true love's land.
The girl, too, had her share of pain,
Her heart aching, her soul in vain,
For though she smiled, and worked each day,
Her love for him refused to wane.
And then one day, as if by fate,
Their paths crossed, and they met again,
And all the years of pain and wait,
Melted away, like summer rain.
They held each other, tight and long,
And felt the warmth of love so strong,
For though they had been worlds apart,
Their love had never truly gone.
And so they lived, till the end of time,
Together, in love, and in rhyme,
Their story, a ballad of love so true,
Of two separated lovers, who found their way anew.
I am like a cascading willow over a flowing river
and a victim of the wind-
and my heart is aching with bleeding tears
that float away . . .
for I am embarking on an unknown journey
and must make this journey alone, my dears
I languish weeping afraid of the first step
weary- although I have not even begun
my heart is full of suffering and anguish
I am afraid . . .
oh, somewhere deep inside me is a strength
and I must put the aching aside and find it
but, I am cold Lord-
I thirst for my mother to hold me close to her
but she is long gone to her eternal rest
and I moan my grief . . .
this journey will be all uphill, sigh
there will be storms and pits of agony
I will fall . . . . I know that I will
for cancer is a guest that comes unbidden
leaving a life weather-stained
and r a v a g e d . . .
______________________________
January 14, 2020
Poetry/Free Verse/Aching
Copyright Protected, ID 20-1216-617-03
All Rights Reserved, 2020, Constance La France
Submitted to Your Best Free Verse 2020
sponsor, John Hamilton
Fourth Place
_____________________
Written for the contest, Free Verse Fever A
sponsor, Lu Loo, Theme chosen #4 Aching
First Place
You need to listen to me when I say
I simply cannot do this anymore
I understand why you turned away
In my eyes, there was something that told you
I was no longer the youth I once was.
I used to harness the wind
Not even your arms could hold me
I have tried in my own way to love you
I want nothing more than to kiss you
through the braids of Orion's constellation but now stars are dying at my feet
They twinkle then fade away like aching dust.
Part II
My heart is a furnace — it warms to others warmth.
those who aren't you aren't of any interest to me.
But yet I sit and watch the embers dissolve.
Written: June 23, 2023
______________________________________________________________
Bonds packed with zeros—harmony, grief, regrets,
In this endless cycle, memory no longer begets.
Your poetry is a symphony that stirs my soul.
But also a river of nausea in which I swim, whole.
Lonesome, dispossessed, my being in unrest,
A fetish for the departed, my electrons protest,
Darkened with heat and sound, aching for release,
Delicate slights, hunger, I cannot appease.
Bear me safe, classy, an echo of frustration
A decadent counter-revolution, my salvation.
Invention, force, and calculation may fade away.
But the lessons from failure forever stay.
The struggle mistake, the clarity we seek,
Caesar black vision is bold and unique.
Metaphors communicate wonders untold,
As a monkey and a cowrie shell, a story unfolds.
The absolute, shallow, and devoid of depth.
All surface, a worry that leaves us bereft.
To be zealous, and lewd as we bleed at sunrise,
That is the contract, the ultimate prize.
The journey of life, filled with harmony and strife,
Grief and regret are intertwined in this mortal life.
Memory fades as we seek a fresh start.
And your poetry is an art that ignites my heart.
Despite the beauty, a nauseating river flows.
A discomfort that lingers, a feeling that grows.
I swim in its depths, bare and exposed.
Deprived of control, my vulnerability imposed
Within me, a fetish for those who have passed.
Their presence lingers, casting shadows that last.
My electrons, once vibrant, are blackened by pain,
Absorbing the heat and sound of their refrain.
The aching rain beats down on me
I shield myself as best can be
Its piercing slants like stinging bees
The cold damp wind goes right through me
My teeth do chatter up and down
My body's shaking all around
No warmth retained, I'm 'bout to freeze
Right through me howls the cold wet breeze
I spot whitecaps way out at sea
The aching rain beats down on me
I shield myself as best can be
Then shiver in the chill damp breeze
It's not the first time
her heart is breaking
She swallows tears as
her heart is aching
Who'll explain the ache
her heart is facing?
Every time she hopes
her heart is racing
For that one true love
her heart is waiting
When will he be found?
Her heart's debating
Through dark wrenching ache
her heart is wading
Will that love come soon?
Her heart's evading
Agonised, she cries
her heart is stinging
To harrowing hope
her heart is clinging
04.24.2021
Quatrain rhyme scheme: abcb
5 syllables per line
I remember the gazebo
When I felt it was floating
The two of us sitting on the wooden floor
While the kids were doing nothing unusual
Or very interesting
But our eyes kept reconnecting
And I felt the moment would burst...
We talk only of work-related things
Only gestures in response to the kids
Our eyes in constant movement towards each other
Mine to yours at least...
And now I want all the inappropriate things
A long smile, a hug, a kiss
Extended eye-contact
I want to sit with you in the park
Kissing your ear, the one with two earrings
Moving my lips to the warm side of your neck
Deep back where the hair is,
Then retreat
And look into the big brown eyes
The one's that crushed God himself
And tell you with a fearful warmth
That I can barely stand my love for you
And that your very eyes upon me
Is proof that God survived the crush
And in fact uses them now
To guide light into my world...
And the catch of your eyes
Rekindles that aching want.
The only thing worth fighting for.
Mi amore, mi amore, mi amore.
A letter from Bristol arrived on my doorstep
I knew its contents would cause me such pain
An invitation for a routine mammogram –
My Goodness …two years have flown past again
I arrived at the breast-screening center
And sat down on a bright lime green chair
The x ray room I soon would enter
I’d have to strip off my pink underwear
The radiologist asked me some questions -
Did I have any worries about my breasts…
I replied they were droopy and sagging
And no longer pert on my chest!
The radiologist laughed at my answer
My humour really did break the ice
We discussed the detection of breast cancer
She listened and was so very nice
It was time for the dreaded deed to be done
Each breast squashed as flat as a pancake
Two images were taken of each compressed one
Good grief my boobies don’t half ache!
A few moments discomfort can detect cancer
Soon the pain was gone from my Bristol Cities
Early detection is really the answer
And in two years they will re squash my titties!
09~23~16
(Bristol Cities is cockney rhyming slang for titties)
Aching Nights And Hopelessly Sad Morn
Aching nights and hopelessly sad morn
my life torn, ripped and nailed;
each day dark hours sliced and dice,
misery applauding as I failed
not once nor even twice but thrice!
Each day, worries eat into this fate
watered soup- soul needs more;
so lost, lost as three blind mice,
this aching heart dares score
as if my deep pain does not suffice!
Dare I question my dark lot in life
In ashes pray a blessing sweet;
nay, such a supplication reflects,
forlorn spirit admits defeat
epic moaning that never connects!
Tomorrow hints at miracles to come
fine ship, vast oceans to sail;
winds blowing, waters calm and blue,
relief given from a dark hell
a destined pilgrimage seeking you!
Robert J. Lindley , 10-03-2015
Note--" Thrice" | Define Thrice at Dictionary.com
three times, as in succession; on three
occasions or in three ways. 2. in threefold
quantity or degree. 3. very; extremely.
Origin of thrice. Expand. Middle English
"See: A Marriage Worthy, Letters Offered to an Aching Bride"
See
The blood of man
drips from his fingers
note the true
Son of Man
No loud crimson
cardinal feathers
gently caressing
psalming minds
No White Hat
nor flag in hand, yet
Purple hearted
when War came
carrying in his
arms crucifixion
nails for bullets
in palms holy human
outstretched
lobbying armies
and splitting sides
dripping red, and
blue bruised, the once
good book holders
debating defense
four seraphim and
their regiments
glistening oily black
misunderstood magi
with their presents
now fierce and hell bent
whirling dervish
baptising all those
heaven sent
dripping their fire
burning gold,
myrrh and frankincense
transfusing the just
the bled out pacifists
now all undressed
Holy Sees truth
for what it means
now all unblessed
the stripping of brides
standing firm
in their pure virginal beliefs
they come hymn singing
riding astride
the four horsemen
caught up in
a marriage
worthy
of an honour guard
attention arching
Apocalypse
The 3 unsealed
slow letters offered
to an aching bride
to freely choose
her husband’s
best side
(LadyLabyrinth / 2020)
"If you close your eyes
and you pick a side
Will you follow blindly
into the darkness?
If you close your eyes
and you pick a side
Will you find yourself
broken and heartless?
In a world on fire,
in a world on fire"
"If in some smothering dreams,
you too could pace
Behind the wagon
that we flung him in,
And watch the white eyes
writhing in his face,
His hanging face,
like a devil’s sick of sin;
If you could hear,
at every jolt, the blood
Come gargling from
the froth-corrupted lungs,
Obscene as cancer,
bitter as the cud
Of vile, incurable sores
on innocent tongues,—
My friend, you would not tell
with such high zest
To children ardent
for some desperate glory,
The old Lie:
Dulce et decorum est
Pro patria mori."
(excerpt Wilfren Owens -
"Dulce et Decorum Est")
A constant ache
A raging churn
Within my heart
The pulse of it
Throws me under
One… Two… Three… Four
One… Two… Three… Four
One… Two… Three… Four
Then the silence
It boils inside
Pointing fingers
Not good manners
The aching stops
Silence is dread
Seconds, minutes
Hours, days, weeks... soon
The day will come
My soul will ache
Deep sublime aching of my soul,
The fount of all perfection,
My source of life and memory,
The cause of my direction-
Why must one suffer so much pain?
What person gained so great a goal,
And found in their loving true perfection,
Yet nothing of their life is stole?
I am unworthy of this distinction,
Deep sublime aching of my soul.
Your recent reveal was a sad steal
of all I knew.
My memory now bleeds severely
making days blue.
My world shattered and scattered
across the floor.
Something dying is out loud crying
aching and sore.
Your truth so grilling it is piercing
the past I saw.
Now that I am bruised by your news
I am plain raw.
Feeling a fragile head from words said
I’m torn apart.
No light to lend so darkness will bend
and ease my heart.
I will long mourn this unwanted thorn
that makes me cry.
I must ride the storm then wake some morn
with my eyes dry.
I need healing so I am willing
to see tears gone.
Accepting plight to put thoughts aright
I must play strong.
I accept what I cannot reject
for I love you.
Not knowing truth would alter my youth
your story flew.
Nothing to gain by showing my pain
so I hushed true.
Explanation of revelation
will not ease me.
You had a need to stop your own bleed
to set hurt free.
Never will you meet the strain of pain
for me, not thee.