Best With Longing Poems
Two statues of stone
On pedestals in the park
One male
One female
White objects of a perfections beauty
Yet they stood erect and alone
When the rain fell
This was their tears
The stared at each other with longing
The trees grew tall
Season by season the flowers bloomed
Two statues standing erect in the prison of life's hold
A poet walked in the park
Glancing at lovers, kisses at dusk
He stared at the statues above his head
He knew, with dread, the loneliness of stone maidens
He waited for the park to become enclosed in the twilight
With toil and sweat he did succeed on his lark
Pushing the statues close rather than apart
As one statue danced and the other one sang
They kissed the sweetness of night and felt the tears of joy
All because a poet
Wished them a lovers embrace
He knew them like they were his children
For here he was as well
A statue
In love
Decades of mystic dreamers have worn the path
trod across the leys, coupling pairs within Stonehenge.
Beneath the Wiltshire skies cornflower blue; they lust,
lotus-eaters, loose-limbed, seeking a blessed outcome.
With longing strides-- they reach, climbing earthen berms
to add their lovers song to move with the cycles.
Some take the blessed day, others wait the pearly moon.
See her so fairy fair dressed in naught but moonlight?
Watch his black-haired beast rise once encircled by her arms.
Back pressed against the dolmens, her heels wreath his waist
as virgin blood runs red like the holly berries
to feed the holy earth, she'll bear his child; she trusts.
The dancing flames lit up her hair
In shades of dark and light
She looked at me with longing eyes
That sparkled in the night.
I know, she said, what you desire
The fruit that longing seeks
She looked me straight into the eyes
I watched her burning cheeks.
I will give all and be your slave
As long as you are mine
We shall make love ‘til dawn is here
And drink the sweetest wine.
She threw herself into my arms
And kissed my waiting lips
I held her tight; could not resist
Her undulating hips.
Our passion’s fire burnt all night long
Each movement – tenderness
I wished this bliss we could prolong
Profound togetherness.
When morn’s first rays peered through the pane
Lace curtains etched our skin
A tapestry of silk domain
She was my Anne Boleyn.
But fantasies evaporate
When light is shed on them
Forbidden love seemed to berate
How tarnished was our gem.
One night we shared, but ne’er again
Could we pursue our lust
Her husband, he was my best friend
We’d violated trust.
-------------------------------------------------------------
Co-write: Paul Callus & Carolyn Devonshire ~ Oct 2014
The cooling evening breeze lifted and moved the laggard clouds
filtering the burnished moon through the sheer curtains on either side,
makes nature shiver.
Moon holds its gaze with longing over the Scottish Highlands
watching Nessie swim in the dark of the silver facets mirror lake.
She’s grandiose and magnificent in size,
with a towering neck and hump protruding from the shimmering water.
She belongs in the vast bottomless depths
of blue with her magic of immortality kept hidden.
She's welcomed to come to life to cast shadows upon the lake,
one to openness that stretch endlessly before her.
Mountains rise like giants beautiful and imposing
meeting the stark gray sky on the horizon.
Light flickers in the distant as the sky begins to darken.
Lighting erupts with rumbling growls.
Streaks zigzag and fork across the sky
in a majestic display shooting from seemingly out of nowhere
to hit the ground one after another impressive exhibition of power.
With not a soul in sight
she feeds while the moon shines.
Nature keeps an invisible secret.
12/17/2017
Poetry Contest: Loch Ness
Sponsored by: Thvia Shetley
The fall has me remembering
days I couldn’t get enough of.
With longing I think back to spring
when hope was glowing! New was love!
Days I couldn’t get enough of -
breezes warm and the cool of night
when hope was glowing! New was love -
that time when all was fresh and bright!
Breezes warm and the cool of night,
the grass so green and sky so blue
that time when all was fresh and bright -
before spring's end; before years flew.
The grass so green and sky so blue;
pink blossoms on the trees in bloom -
before spring's end; before years flew. . .
how sweet the face of my young groom!
Pink blossoms on the trees in bloom!
With longing I think back to spring.
How sweet the face of my young groom!
The fall has me. . . remembering.
Oct. 13, 2017
for Brian Strand's the 'COMPLETELY YOUR CHOICE (21)any form any theme' Poetry Contest
Written: August 06, 2025
*********
The traffic roars as wounded gulls.
metal beats skated over the asphalt waves,
each honk a fractured prayer,
fleeing the city, restless breath.
I sit beneath a twisted jacaranda tree.
Its lavender flowers unfurl as the sun dips low
Parrots squabble in the canopy—
boisterous, unrepentant, and singing,
stirring the dawn with their raucous cries,
a beauty entwined with longing.
Their melody exists beyond,
concrete and clocks,
I sip coffee—malnourished warmth—
Its bitter essence wedged between my ribs,
where comfort once thrived.
The chipped cup, a reflection of lost trust.
Each face that passes me
is a silent question,
I have forgotten how to answer.
Once I skated these streets
hungry for names,
for the echo of someone to cram my void,
But identity remains a fog
caught between chain-link fences
and fragrant jasmine vines.
Yet still,
I listen for that singular voice
amid the clamorous parrots,
the one that might beckon me back
into the wholeness of myself.
POTD : 12.2.26
First Placing: Standard Contest
Sponsor : JCB Brul
Daisies could not bloom bound by debt of Time
we tried to unknot ropes tied across dimes
by deeds proceeding of their own accord
songs not written by either of us unfree
as white petals fell dropping one by one
Hours of tasting, smelling, touching lost
on battlefields, in barracks when away
you had to haste with epaulettes torn
I rooted a chasing escape, sweat dripping
tied to wheat fields watching babes chaste
Bald eagles soared above winelands stolen
gulls and albatross escorted galleon laden with longing ~ South to North, winds gushing
your wishes driven by wrenching penalties
seals then oceans carried lips and knees
Your breastbone turned from an unborn world
too pregnant in fluid womb of clocks chiming
fled you from aching loss of Love’s caged raging
stoic in withholding fist of sacrifice, away you got
drowning throbbing Heart in my own bleeding
_________________________________
Music echoes through the halls,
climbing stairs, and gilded walls.
Our lovely lass discreetly swoons.
With longing eyes, she scans the room.
Young ladies dressed, in gowns, divine,
are coifed, and rouged and powdered fine.
Their dancing partners, starched, refined,
drink them in like precious wine.
A rhythm, now, she can't define,
has moved her toes in quarter time.
With her laced up shoes, she taps the floor
to violins, plucked strings, and chords
This debutant, is a lonely child
who spent her days by the river side.
Ann is a budding rose among the wild.
in a ballroom filled with bright bouquets
of hopeful, blooms, in vast array.
There is giggled laughter, beguiling grins,
and we hear the Danube waltz, play again.
Politely, polished, bright young men
gather flowers, twirling them
until their skirts sail with the wind.
She blushes, rouged, with charm, beguiling,
and hopes for partners, dashing, smiling.
She flutters a fan to cool her face
and closes eyes, a song embraced.
She sits awhile, with private dreams
She keeps her secret dream alive
Abides her time, and thinks it seems
a fantasy, she has contrived.
But then, she feels his gentle tap
He stands before her very eyes
and takes her hand, now from her lap
Deep in her magic dreamer's trance
Ann wakes, to look upon the prince
Who glides away with her upon
The ballroom floor, ......where they are one,
until the strike of midnight comes
_____________________________________________________
Fairytale Contest: Sponsor Alexis Y
Hometown: Riverside
Middle name: Ann
Summer sunshine gently fading
Casting shadows on the lawn
Weeping willow , Branches cascading
My quiet corner now adorns.
The last rays of sunshine seeming
To inspire the butterflies to dance
In that moment I am dreaming
Of true love and romance .
Kisses in the twilight
Soon the moon will rise
The romantic air of midnight
Stars shimmering in the skies.
Tender kisses become demanding
As we feel our passion soar
Two lovers understanding
We can wait no more .
Touches soft and tender
Ignite feelings of desire
Soon we must surrender
To the flames of passions fire.
Kisses that burn with longing
Hearts beat as if they'll burst
Feelings of warmth and belonging
Passionate quenching of our thirst.
I know you are out there somewhere
I'm searching desperately for you
I've spoken of the moments we'll share
and the things that we will do.
My quiet corner of reflection
Has once more worked for me
I have felt true loves affection
and seen the things as yet to be.
For the any poem goes #15 contest
Sponsor . Poet destroyer A
My bathroom mirror amplifies
tired eyes and lines of discontent
a harsh reminder of the unfairness of life
and forces me to stare in the face
the cards I have been dealt but cannot change
I am not vain, but the bathroom mirror
believes that I am, prodding my esteem
with it's taunting illusion of superficial
desires and making me sick with longing
for all the things I do not have
Frowns furrow into my brow
and once carefree features twist
with violent acknowledgement
that I cannot go back and undo the undone
the bathroom mirror plays tricks on us all
waiting for those quiet moments
when we doubt ourselves and resolve
to change who we are entirely
But we would not have got this far
in life without being ourselves
and the bathroom mirror is a terror
that reflects back regret
and long lost dreams
failures and good times lost
the bathroom mirror amplifies
tired eyes and lines of discontent
a harsh reminder of the unfairness of life
and that's why I rarely look at it.
An angel, he appeared one afternoon -
amazing, amorous, and alluring.
Beguiling her with beautiful ballads,
how splendidly he bewitched her!
Long languorous summer days they lazed
in a field of daffodils
as she lay blissfully in his brawny bronzed arms
looking lovingly into his eyes -
those baby blues with long lush lashes.
Seventeen were they. Their first love it was -
a lovely flirtatious and fabulous first love.
Suddenly, it all just stopped.
Sent away to serve in war,
her sweetheart sadly disappeared with barely a Sayonara.
Several seasons swept away
like brown leaves in September’s breezes.
Studying at school, sometimes she recalled
with longing - the love of her young life
and the boyish glee in his bright blue long-lashed eyes.
Unbeknownst to her, her lost boyfriend
was back from his lonesome barracks
and the bloody battlefields of an awful World War.
Back was he, though limping from a bullet to his leg
and looking for the love of HIS young life.
Seventy-seven years later,
see them sauntering together
in a field of daffodils
situated by a house he built for her -
two lone centenarians
with grown twin sons and seven grand-kids.
Their lasting love was lost but only for a blink
of their long lifetime -
a lifetime of lovely marital bliss
that envelopes them still with bountiful blessings.
March 31, 2022
for My Lost And Found Love Poetry Contest
Sponsor: JCB Brul
You win again, my angel heart
I count the days when we're apart;
I trail alone once you're away
No sense in saying I wish you'd stay
Your angel lips, etched in the sand
A thrill etched in the sand, let’s fly
I’m drawn, drawn by your command
Restless am I, another goodbye?
You’re a runaway,dressed to fly
Like a blink on ivory sky...
No, I bow like a night owl's wing
Come to me, thirsty with longing.
Your searching heart will never find
Any arms as cuddly as mine;
Don't come and go just like the rain
This time, babe, never leave again.
Craig Cornish's Lyrics Again
nette onclaud
Fated to Love
Best to simply weigh the heart with a poppy seed
Counter balance on granite
All its rhythmical surging
Its expeditious life
Amounts to nothing
Better then, not to believe in its enchantment
For it is fated to love
And do little else but lead
To ruin
Well-worn to stop up your ears
Lest you hear its background murmurings
Brooding upon devotion
Lacking the power to change anything
But weeps constantly for dreams
Do not then, be deceived
For all the hearts will to achieve
It cannot
But burst inside your veins
Only half remembering what once you never held
Though its truth persists
It lays persecutory back against a lie
The heart would try
But cannot defy the world
Beware then my friends
For that muscular aorta pump and valve
Will lay you stark
And rend open beneath your ribs
And grant you no solace
Or escape
For all in the life of steady beats
It knows nothing of fact
And through your nights survival
Will stab at you with yearning
Brooking no compromise
It shall continue
Craving
Damnable heart I say
To leave me no place to rest
If I could but tear it out
For it taints my eyes with longing
Converting my hours for its keeping
Playing poker faced with deliverance
Trying to cheat destiny
With the price it paid to see me
Counting the cost in when’s
And when
When all the loneliness
Will end
Beware of when; then my friends
For that muscular ventricle pump and valve
Will lay you star-dream-gathering
And break open daily beneath your ribs
And yield to you no solace
But only escapism
Damnable heart I say
To leave me no place to rest
If I could but tear it out
~
There are legends I've heard, old songs in the dark
of the old folklore tales, and the old gypsy trails,
where traveling caravans of rugged old wagons
still echo, with longing, in valleys below...
Where each treasured belonging,
was packed in a hurry
all the stories, all the worry, all the heartache would travel
all the sunshine, and the sorrow, celebrations to marvel
and dreams of tomorrow, were kept on the road....
The trail was a friend, and the loam was their home
Their needs were quite small,
They didn't expect, to be wealthy or rich.
All the riches they had, were scarce and so few...but they knew
that happiness could be the sun on your back, or a sky, wide and blue...
Not much to expect, and not even respect...
would be theirs to be owned.
As the twilight would come, under a red setting sun,
with the fragrance of loam, and the tired walk done...
they would bed under trees where the heather was strewn
they would burn a small fire, and prepare a warm meal,
with smoke in the breeze, while the whippoorwill's song
and accordion tunes, would drift by the face of the moon
On their heels was the dust, in the noontime sun
They rose with the dawn, and the gold of the past,
wearing the colorful hope of tomorrow's new task
Working wherever a meal, and dollar would come
Then moving again with their band until dusk
over, and over and over again...
Some called them tramps, or small petty thieves
But the heart of the matter, was the love of the sun,
the love of the life that came from the moon,
from the stars, and the grass, and the rust of the leaves
For those who encountered, and who gave them a chance
could learn many things by watching them dance,
and learn many things by hearing them sing,
and pay close attention to how much they knew
that fortune is something that comes from inside
It comes with the pride, of knowing what matters
The tattered, lost life of the old gypsy tribes ....
might be the saddest of stories, or loneliest song...
a song that has faded,
that has dwindled and died....
_______________________________________
5/18/12
101 in a ROW contest - 12
Sponsored by PD
When often thinking of times past
In accordance to her own place
She recalled a heart broken young woman
With longing her pain to erase
Guys grow fond of her demeanor
Going so far as to follow her around
Yet without a doubt she controls her heart
And departs them safe and sound
She never strays from her values and ways
From actions she continues to refrain
And when boys spend time in her company
For her, it is merely to entertain
Childish ways once embedded naturally
Inside her innocent mind
Have soon dissipated into the land of dreams
And reality she’s come to find
So many times she’s feared the day
When one young soul she shall meet
He’ll speak foreign truth she’s never heard
And sweep her off her feet
Hesitant to become transparent
She often hid her anticipation
And did so well for the initial encounters
Although with great frustration
No one seemed to understand her like this one
For in such a short amount of time
She questioned what her motives were
As her affection seemed to climb
Attempts to stray from him failed miserably
And in fact seemed to attract her more so
Each departure she vowed was the last
Yet her endearment continued to grow
Left in a quandary
She allows him to speak his peace
She soon understands his wishes for them
Are from each other to release
Now, rational a thinker she may be
She desires his wishes as well
But something leads her to believe
They both know this attempt will fail
She’s scared to read too much into this
In fear that feelings are unrequited
For only God can deem what’s to be true
And who shall be united
So, idly she and her soul await
For sign of returned desire
Yet, until that day she will attempt no more
And to her chambers simply retire