Best Wistful Poems
Age gracefully…that’s what I’ll do
Going to ignore the lines, how about you?
Inner beauty is what really counts
I happen to love my drooping mounts
Absolutely no Botox or fillers for me
Another varicose vein, Yipee
I’ll learn to love myself, no matter what
I will forever have my untucked gut
Graceful and elegant, that’s what I am
I will tell those cosmetic companies to scram
Lip plumping or lipo…no darn way!
And as for my hair…I will let it go gray
Facelifts are for the weak, you know
I happen to adore the feet of the crow
I’ll snub my reflection, chuckling a little at me…
For shunning pricey moisturizers provides me with glee
I don’t need any convertible or flashy car
My beauty shines really brightly, from afar
Who cares about the rolls, seeming to multiply each day?
No staples for me, I don’t care what I weigh
Dark circles make my eyes look cute
And those saddlebags are really a hoot
Juvederm and Radiance ….what a waste
On this mug, parentheses DO have a place
Lasik-I sincerely think not
That bifocal look is certainly hot
A new boytoy-There will be none of that
Though I’m sure he’d dig my charming back fat
The bell, oh no, I don’t mean to be crass
I guess I dozed off in Algebra Class
I must have been close to 40 in that frightful dream
And I was just about to let off a really loud scream
Nevertheless, my dear friends, I do so solemnly vow
To go off and age gracefully…at least for now
That's right...no need for the third degree
I promise to not get my first brow lift…until I’m at least 23
'...the wind plays andantes
of lost hopes and regrets.'
Hart Crane
It is your soul and constant sorrow that concern me,
you seem pale and unprotected; I want so much
to be your lover and your shield, to keep your miseries
at bay, by your side for ever for the glowing recognition
of your smile. But the opportunity was never really there,
so your lovely face lives only in my reveries.
"The pain is deep when the heart is spent"...Poet
Your face floats through my mind
in vaporous wistful dreams of illusion
that drape over my soul
in an invisible cloak of yearning
the footprints you left on the soft ground
as you vanished in the shadows
when the rain poured
the last cold kiss devoid of feeling
frozen by the heart's emotional collapse
these are visions of melancholy
that dance with me
on a floor of vacuous emptiness I found
where nostalgia is a hard shattered shard of lament
that lay scattered across my mind
in sobs of burning torment
that form a wistful smile to cover my forlorn face
whenever you appear so present
Passionate nostalgia of our last embrace,
the way we fervently shaped to each other -
is as bittersweet
as the wildflower pressed between a love story’s pages.
Susan Ashley
May 26, 2019
~ First Place ~
Contest: Brevity Poetry Contest No More Than Six Lines
Sponsor: Caren Krutsinger
He whispered softly
against every inch of her skin
She could sense his yang
Still in need of her yin
His sweet wistful breath
lingered once again
beyond borders within
His presence held authority
of what once belonged to him
She knew the time to leave
before She would give in
This would be the first time
She wouldn't let him win
Her drumming heart was beating fast
as She closed the open door
Her vision blurred,She walked away
and strolled along the shore
She brushed sand-wishes off her feet
and wiped dew mist from her cheek
She lilted up her hazel eyes
into the starry sky
She watched the distant stars
glisten up so high
Lunar limbs wrapped her small waist
Poured moondust 'pon her face
Made her dream of dreams anew
where She' d sail over the blue
Where She'd let emotions flow
to the one who makes her whole.
A wistful breeze blows through the trees
as summer nears its end
September beckons to the fall
Its old and brooding friend
The blue of sky, the butterfly,
birds that sing on high,
will flutter with my doleful sighs
as summer bids goodbye
The somber sound of autumn bells
with falling leaves they ring
until they cast a gloomy spell
with the cheerless winds they bring
----
8-16- 2015
Wishes are never horses, making beggars be less cheerful
Increased interest to the unreachable despite being careful
Subjects, condemns and stimulates one to be less grateful
The moment shortens the stretched hands and makes nothing wonderful
Feelings fiercely negative, make the coveted powerful
Unidirectional is the attempt which feels unlawful
Loving someone who will never love back, shows life is half full
May reading and reflecting remain ever in style
The length of our days to whittle and while
Drifting through the quietly gleaming forest,
Snowflakes falling, silently glinting, melting,
Gracing wings of chickadees chirping gladly...
Wistfully dreaming
I dreamt of a home of my own as a child
where the air is always pure and mild,
Where birds and animals did freely roam
and frolic in the soap bubbles and foam.
A house on a tree by the rolling stream,
Atop a vanilla cake or cherry ice cream,
At the foot of a soaring crystal mountain
with a dazzling musical water fountain.
A house of candies, cookies and chocolate
studded with pearls, diamonds and agate,
Amidst a lollipops field or on the moon,
Hugging the ocean or next to a lagoon.
But I live in a hovel by the train tracks
It rattles my bones and almost cracks,
Ha, my sugar and honey dream goodbye
I have the whistling wind for my lullaby.
forlorn
woebegone
in
pensive
musing
this
yearning
this
longing
melancholy
becomes
a
rueful
pining
almost
nostalgic
contemplation
“some winters will never melt
some summers
will never freeze
and some things will only
... live in poems.” - Sanober Khan, Turquoise Silence
Wishful yearnings, regrets for things wanted, or
In the past are things you look back on which made you glad.
Sometimes you recall those times and then you feel so sad
To know they must remain in your days of yore.
Forlorn you may feel, perhaps pensive, or simply pining for
Unforgettable good times you once had!
Like a boat, you float your longings to an empty shore.
WISTFUL WISTERIA
wistful wisteria,
lavender-hued and laden
with grapelike produce.
wistful like a willow.
I’m hanging about the fence
where buzzing bees
remind me
of life and death.
amidst the ivy,
the hum of hives,
the lavender fruit
of the eyes.
wishful for paradise.
4/3/2022
I have withdrawn from grim and gloomy feelings.
I have no time for wistful faces that plague the day
with melancholy conversation and life-sucking sadness.
The drama too much to digest and too trivial to express.
The shroud of depression envelopes the soul
spiraling it toward the depths of psychosis.
Discard delusions of undignified and unfounded discontent.
Instead, I seek cheerful gladness and joyful vibes.
I invest my time with gregarious and social aspects
of amiable discourse and exuberant life-serving happiness.
The manzai of life situations is peculiar funniness.
The revealing mirthful banter opens the psyche
whirling it toward heights of responsible normalcy.
Embrace each moment as though it is the last – it could be.
Micro Poem - 4/29/25 Seventeen Words
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Wistful
Winter flees on
Pensive wings
Leaving behind ephemeral ice
Longs to taste warm sunlight -
Inhale lilac’s perfume.