Long Anticipation Poems

Long Anticipation Poems. Below are the most popular long Anticipation by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Anticipation poems by poem length and keyword.


Premium Member Silent Spaces Sacred

I'm noticing
you're not noticing
I'm starting to look for
what you've already heard
with anticipation
overpowering my internal anxious voice
with calm
and kind compassion

When Other disharmonious human voices
speak of win/win choices

Or sing
a right-handed dance
within my balanced EarthTribal range
of listening
for sacred silent choice.

I become
my still-maturing surprise,
replacing my "Other" anxiety,
awkwardness
disappointment

About unfocused AnthroVoice insecurities
in suffering Other's compassion,
insufferable curiosity,
predative empathic touching,
yet igniting mellow multicultural waves
of resonant pastel sound,
resilient brilliant sight

And these in-between times
silent solitude sacred rests
between transparent syncopations
of impatient human sounds,
inhumane frowns

Not interacting with same room
or screen-time voices,
thoughts
verb-tainted feelings,

These soulful un-nouned bests
have, until recently,
invited anxious boredom,
apathy,
depression,
aching loneliness,
emotional apartheid,

While now
in this human sound silence
of co-redemption
I absently reach out
for deeply exploring
sounds of Simon's silence.

Negative and positive felt voices
provoking newly found choices
liberty of equanimity,
good humored curiosity about anxiety
stress
trauma triggers

Cooperatively reaching
for anticipating
future eco/ego therapy
indigenous healing
wisdom securing
conserving liberating 
internal/external co-passions,

Smiles
and frowns,
ups
and downs,'
transcendent lights
and immanent powers,
remembered lives
projected loves
for capitalized risks
minimized by win/win nutritional opportunities
for nurturing silent
calm and kind
time outside/inside co-invested bliss.


Premium Member The Empty Room

The Empty Room

I sat alone in an empty room for an eternity,
the hands of the clock on the wall crawled like snails through sand,
on a white and patched face without numbers and without meaning,
the teeth of boredom ate from my right shoulder slowly.

Its saliva flowed on my chest like a cold poison,
and then I saw you appearing like a vision from another world,
in that moment as if the moon had descended into a closed room,
the doors themselves trembled with emotion and pure anticipation.

The windows painted themselves with new shades of silver and blue,
the air became light for the first time in my life,
as if each ray of light ran beneath your feet,
weaving a carpet of stars for your path to my heart.

When your lips moved speaking words of silk,
and this warm child in my chest danced without cease,
I finally felt that the dark days had ended,
when you smiled at me, my walls crumbled into dust.

If only I had seen the direction of your feet on that day,
perhaps I would have burned the sail of that ship too soon,
but my eyes were blinded by your light of sunset and sunrise,
and I didn't see that your steps led to other distant lands.

Now I sit alone again in the empty room like a statue of ice,
the clock still drags its hands on its expressionless face,
but boredom no longer bites me because I carry a greater wound,
the place where my walls fell now bears only the rust of pain.

If time could flow backward like a rebel river,
I would prefer to remain blind in my safe and old darkness,
than to see your light descending only to leave,
leaving me with the memory of a smile that destroyed what I built forever.
© Dan Enache  Create an image from this poem.

Premium Member A Time For Family

Christmas has always been for family;
it has always been more about them
than the season’s trappings and gifts.

A time for wide-eyed children,
for delight and giddy happiness,
for smiles that come easily to each and all.

A time when we can appreciate
our close-knit bonds; all of us wanting
to be right where we are, right then.

A time when jubilant hosts and exuberant guests
go off to midnight mass in the dark winter’s snow
while a grand feast awaits, before the tired children sleep.

Christmas morning, with laughter and late breakfast 
turns into laptop lunch amidst gift-wrapped presents.
And then, 'the visiting' when we travel to other festive gatherings.

Christmas has always been first anticipation and then joy; 
the joy of being together, reliving memories of our past
while making memories for our future.



Written in collaboration with T. Kirk Tierney

AP: 2nd place 2022, Honorable Mention 2022

Premium Member One Warm September

How many hearts so full of love 
                            are never given chances
They've lined the walls in silent hope 
                            at one too many dances

A lonely mirror once looked back
                               at me, as I remember
How devastating life could be
                         until one warm September

I’ll not forget the ups and downs
                                the great anticipation
To only then be squashed again
                             without accommodation  

But then one day when life had learned,
                               alone can be complete
I came upon the only one
                                   forever to be sweet

Just catch a moment, hold it still
                              be open to new fashion 
For one can never know when
                      fate and destiny find passion

And when September rolls around
                                 remember what i say 
For then it was my turn to dance
                             and dance until this day
Form: Rhyme

The Unfallen One

Yesterday's splendour couldn't suffice,
It wasn't perpetual, 
It couldn't be carried over,
The dawn of a new day 
sets off a new order,
A new chronicle of events, 
Atonement has to be made for the day, 
The glorious cycle of blood sprinkling,
The ritual of the killing of animals,
Bulls, goat and sheep,
Spotless for cleansing,
A tiring, trivial round,
A replacement was sought for,
The high priests were in anticipation,
The prophets foretold of the Chosen One, 
Who would bridge the gap 
between mankind and the Divine,
Who would be an eternal sacrifice,
A propitiation for man's erring ways,
Death by any other couldn't
break the vicious cycle,
Death by any other name 
couldn't bring life, 
It couldn't change the tide,
There's no sure anchor besides Him.


Premium Member Stay Hopeful

"Share the hopes within you still
And hold the dreams that in you reside
Invite a kiss from parted lips
And trace the paths where hearts abide."*

Soar above frustration despair
with God’s love keeping you steadfast
becoming a blessing to others
who are struggling from pains of the past.

Savour the Lord’s offered grace divine
trusting His Word, tastefully sweet
nurturing anticipation faith buds
for wondrous tomorrows to greet.

Seek always the Almighty’s wisdom
leading toward triumphant trail
warned against lurking allurement bait
valiantly smiting voices that derail.

Stay hopeful* midst prayer-filled days
reaching-out by Holy Spirit’s might
blissfully serene and grateful
looking forward for fruits of delight.

*Words from Joseph May
**Romans 5:5 And hope maketh not ashamed; because the love of God is shed abroad in our hearts by the Holy Ghost which is given unto us.

May 31, 2021
1st place, "Choose Your Form 2" Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Joseph May; judged on 6/4/2021.
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member Old Fashioned Romance

Love, love, the old fashioned way

With courtships that lasted more than a day

This new modern age of total free love

Has its appeal but missing the hugs

It's straight to the bedroom on the very first date

Never a thought of perhaps we should wait

Back in the day we wanted a virgin

To experience together the joys of flirting

The coy little love words that promised the moon

Wishing so badly it happens real soon

Anticipation built up in our throbbing veins

Imagining that moment when passion reigns

Now it's “pleased to meet you, let's go to bed!”

Oh for the days of mystery instead

Thinking of when your union's complete

That moment when both are swept off their feet

That moment sublime lasts forever and ever

To happen today, the chance would be never



© Jack Ellison 2015
Form: Narrative

Premium Member A Shout Into the Void

A Shout into the Void

A shout into the colorless void between Eden and exile,
Between exile and eternity,
By the eternal hero
Like faith leaping milestones from the lion’s head
In the conjugal joining of Heaven’s sighs
In Hosanna’s Glorias
In the midnight where my wandering spirit
Leaves no footprints in blank shadows
Now no room in this vacuum for nothing
But the triumphant yell of grace.

Mute words once swallowed 
A living exclamation point
To punctuate a tiny cry
From the jewel of the creator’s creation
Shattering emptiness
In a wink from the everlasting Genesis
Anticipation in waiting
Leaping into my fractal space
To catch my hurtling free fall
Into bottomless vast valleys of lost gravity.

Nativity spreads white wings
In expressions of prophetic prophecy
Between two distant edges
Devoid of destination and of definition,
Only silhouettes of fleeting emptiness,
Until 
Mercy’s advent 
Swaddles teardrops turned into crystal gems
Of everlasting joy
Echoing in the shattered void.

12-27-21
Contest:  Pick a Title
Theme chosen: A shout into the Void
Sponsor: Edward Ibeh

Secret Lover

Suffusion of sadness so tender,
What I yearn for lies inside.
In bed you await me,
Together we will hide

from those who think we have a choice 
Or that one day you'll be gone. 
Believe you to be transient
A bus I can hop off and on! 

I marvel at the swell of you
So familiar yet never the same
I know you'll never leave me
Nor your power ever wane. 

In bed I shiver with anticipation 
For you're my only truth 
All else is farce, and only in your arms 
Can I cry as I did in youth. 

Accepting life would mean losing you 
So that line will never be crossed. 
Pain, my faithful, constant lover, Pain:
 All that remains from what I've lost.
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member Anticipation

Ooh, how he loved
sliding his hands
over the long silkiness,
the youthful curves
of his new wife,
over the negligee
before it rode up…
anticipation like driving a new car -
not comparable,
I know,
and at odds,
depending on
whether you are for the wife
or the car.
Ooh, how he loved sliding his hands
over the hood,
the caps,
the hips,
the back.
He loved the mirrors -
those on
the side or over the bed.
He handled his new ride with care,
the caress with smiles to impress.
The leather new, the scent
of Mon Paris Eau de Parfum.
He’s not a poet, notices not
the moon, sun or stars,
but he can feel his way
in the dark.

Get a Premium Membership
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a Premium Membership.
Book: Diverse Voices: The Poetry of Human Rights and the Pursuit of Peace