Best Sadlonging Poems


Liquor of Love

Gestures beckon gestures,
Speech caresses silence,
Laughter accompanies the seductive sways of smiles, 
The beautiful bliss of our starry eyes gone astray;
Then caught and locked in a stir of longing for each other.
None, but a tale of fantasy,
Re-enacting the dé·jà vu of a dream.
A dream; an all-discerning vision
Relentlessly unfolding a heart-stricken revelation.
An exposition of the future’s past.
Relishing; this past, indeed. In a one we go a-dancing;
Yet still, in exchange of smothering kisses, beneath the cover of darkness
With flames of a soaring passion burning; our bonded souls to sooth
Urging the sweet cravings of yearning desires, us to consume
In our intoxicating state of peaked pleasure,
In our hypnotizing exile of uncontrollable ecstasy.
How soon this liquor of love runs out
Pour me another glass, please……  
A toast, in honor of our non-existing love
Cheers!!

Premium Member Sand Creek

Chiefs Black Kettle, White Antelope and tribes of Cheyenne and Arapahoe,
In November of eighteen sixty-four camped nigh Sand Creek in Colorado,
Sending out hunting parties to harvest bison that were than so rife,
Provided by the Great Spirit to sustain the Native American's way of life!

Gold, that bane of the Indian, on the South Platte River was found,
Bringing hordes of prospectors to the heart of their sacred hunting ground.
Again, the long-suffering Indian was being pushed further west.
For peace and brotherhood Black Kettle tried to do his very best!

On a lodge pole by his tent, an American flag was flown by the Chief.
Surely that emblem from the Great White Father would cause no grief,
But on that fateful November dawn, cavalry advanced in a steady trot,
Some from the east, others from the west to fulfill a dastardly plot!

"Reverend" Chivington's men shamed themselves killing with gun and blade,
Slaying innocent natives who were assured they wouldn't be betrayed.
White Antelope died singing his death song with all he could muster.
Black Kettle eluded that brutal mob - four years later he was slain by Custer!

The Ghost Dance Movement expressed longing for a life of celebration,
A return to the free-roaming life, rid of hardship and subjugation.
Alas, the massacre at Wounded Knee brought such aspirations to an end.
Herded to squalid reservations, upon the "pale face" they had to depend!

Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(© All Rights Reserved)

Mystery and History

A terrible earthquake rocked
Bidding adieu left us shocked

Rescuers worked on the third day
Looking exhausted and in dismay

Suddenly mixed feelings filled the air
When they lifted two up the metal stair

Shielded from the falling fragments 
Embraced and protected within a mother’s garment

Wrapped in a carcass that offered comfort
A live six month-old baby girl put her effort

She moved having been suckled on that fateful day
By her mother who had entered the unknown gateway

Only this could have crammed her mind
Let me die so that they could find

My child alive; my child must live 
So, she breast-fed until alive

One could compare her love to a mystery
Her life after death is but history

Tears trickle from stony hearts
Also from those carrying debris in their carts

Like a mother longing to hug her child
Our Creator waits to embrace us His child

He can pick us up from any rubble
And in us can make joy bubble


The Joy of Sadness

The Joy of Sadness 

No sunshine
dark clouds have come
and hidden the sun

The sky is crying
rain drops come together
on glass
each has an amount of sorrow
a capacity for being sad

I have this capacity
so alive now
the sad music sound
melody of rain drops
clicking on glass

Maybe I wanna feel
the joy of sadness
and live the sad melody
in all my core

I don't wanna ask
who, when or why questions
remember all unnecessary memories
or cry

I'm longing to feel
the joy of sadness
bring me
all the dark clouds
I wanna be sad

Fide ERKEN
© Fide Erken  Create an image from this poem.

Where Do I Belong

How does one cope with the feeling
that no matter where you are in your life,
your everyday happenings come and go.
You just don't feel that you completely
belong anywhere or to anyone.

You sit and watch others with emptiness
in your heart and soul, with sadness
overflowing your thoughts and feelings.
You somehow manage to smile gracefully
knowing you don't belong in their world.

The longing that comes from deep within
stays hidden behind your smiling eyes.
For the feeling of envy is never an issue,
that feeling is named as a deadly sin.
All you have is a smoldering pain inside.

You strive to do well by others craving
their acceptance into their lovely lives.
Sometimes you are granted a small glimpse
of how you would want your life to be.
Knowing deep inside you just don't belong.

A ray of happiness shines down ever so 
rarely as to tease you with it's glow.
You reach out and grasp all that you can 
and still it slowly slips away and fades.
You wonder where you were meant to be.

Where did you go so wrong to be so alone?
A question that is pondered over and
over inside the depths of your mind.
You try and hide these feelings of silent
yearnings with smiles and actions of good.

When will you have that life you have
been craving for all these lonely years?
You struggle as the anticipation is
practically smothering your every breath.
Hope is all you are left with..so breathe deep.

Not Enough

Truth filtered through a screen of crystal blue eyes
Your soul engulfed by a prison of insecurity and rage
With hands of tenderness you embrace me and choke my spirit
The life that we once shared now is mysteriously hidden beneath the surface
Lost to the emotion and passions that once bound us
I am too afraid to walk away yet I am too tired to stay
Lacking faith in myself and longing to satisfy your desires, I pray…
Wanting to be free with you, uninhibited, yet I am afraid to be vulnerable
I cry in silence and throughout the night I am lonely for you
My trust shattered, feelings bruised, light dimmed, and heart broken, I continue...
Moving slowly, tiptoeing, careful to avoid the traps set before me
I search for answers only to come up empty
You say I am everything to you, all you could want or need
Yet somehow I am not enough 



Copyright © 2009   Lena “Lolita” Townsend


Haunting Past

Delicate and beautiful.
It slides down her face like a sparkling diamond laced with spirit
                                  A solitary tear.
Filled with so much pain and regret but still unable to admit
                                  Needing help.
Searching so desperately but even upon finding is left speechless
                                     Waiting alone.
An echoing ache and longing throughout her body wanting to confess
                                     Her crime. 
Hidden in dark and deep shadows of limbo with no chance of escaping
                                     Growing cold.
Secrets once loved now loathed with the wounds left sore and gaping

Wicked Little Monkey

The intensity of his chase had brought him his diamond,
A chance to maybe silence the monkey on his shoulder.
In feet first, thinking it would be like walking on the clouds,
He knew in his heart and at this time he should have told her.

Feeling all the lyrics of every song he’d heard, that ever moved him,
Desperate to make himself understood and maybe understand himself
Believing in something he felt would be the answer and maybe heal,
Reaching for that need, wanting it to be real and at best everything.

But the monkey whispers in his ear, and as always he is its puppet,
The strings are pulled by something that appears to command.
The chance of the merest glimpse of Shangri-La faded on his horizon,
Alone, he misses with more longing than a never ending need.

Playing over different scenario’s and stuck on a mountain of “why’s”,
Head hung with a feeling of defeat that simply staggers him.
In moments of rational, a thought for maybe “could have been”,
Then slams the door on yesterday, and listens to his monkey once more. 

©.L.Kelly

Sailing Alone

Others will tell you to stay,
but the voices beg you to leave this place.
Break the sorrowful tides against the shore,
In this place, you will not find what you've been longing for.

Drown your self pity, and move on.
Set Sail early, quietly you will be gone.
Fading into the depths of the sea.
Slipping away from everyone's memories.

Free of the desolate earth,
This is your oceanic rebirth.
Sail strong, and do not look back.
Only the weak hearted ponder in regrets.

"Do they remember me?"
"Do they miss me?"
Meaningless questions, that keep you anchored ashore.
Keep in mind to leave these questions ignored.

The friends, the loves, the abandoned; their tears fill the sea.
Salty waters that keep you company.
Waters that keep you afloat,
Waters that keep you moving further,
Waters that will one day help you remember.

The reason you left, is the reason you're alive.

Hurting

The flower of the soil, not curse but I
am same, not cutting ~ beings lie
The flower of my eye, seems only thy
contention only seeding in reply!

What grows in longing symbolizes try,
befit with wronging, nurtures less imply.
Some grace befits an answer, asking why
love seeds it's error firstly, but to die!

As all man contemplative risk deny
am I thus overstated, nay, but nay!
This truth congratulaltive feels no wry
the heart left but to ponder, finds it's sky ~

still deep inside its hurting . . . frees its cry!

Never Meant To Be

Forever longing for each other
sadly separated for eternity
in passing they always gently touch
knowing together they shall never be

His kingdom is mysterious
a place filled with dreams
immersed in illusions
where nothing is really as it seems

While she is vitality
awakening with sunrise
lifting the spirits 
on hopeful hearts she shines

In passing they will always gently touch
his darkness caressed by her light
but loneliness is their destiny
for she is day and he is night
© Ron Derby  Create an image from this poem.

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