Long Couldst Poems
Long Couldst Poems. Below are the most popular long Couldst by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Couldst poems by poem length and keyword.
Nervously I wonder if
I’m better than what’s passed–
Surely thou must think so now,
At least while thou shalt last.
And though my standards be quite high,
(Considering my art not vast),
The tests I’ve conjured–fast and strict–
Save but one–you’ve passed.
With strangers whom thou mingled be,
Doth thou reminisce?
And when thou art holding me,
Yet are they still missed?
Couldst thou be a honey bee,
Which passes with one sting,
Or rather likened shouldst thou be
To resilient wasps on wing?
And even if thou be’st that wasp,
As kindly as thou seem,
Thou sting’st as a naughty knave,
And made those two girls scream.
Passed around you sadly seem
To this girl who’s firm and chaste;
But if thou can prove’st to me
You’re wiser now–steadfast–
I’d look past your transgressions
And look not to the past.
Beneath this chest of winter’s keep,
Where silence folds her weary art,
No pulse may stir, no passion leap—
A frost hath bound my barren heart.
Once sang the lark of youth’s delight,
Once bloomed the rose in tender part;
But time hath quenched that golden light—
And stilled this stone-cold heart.
Yet thou, with eyes like twilight rain,
Whose sorrow softens where I start,
Couldst wake the long-forgotten pain,
And rend this frozen heart apart.
No sword, no flame, could pierce its shield,
No mortal warmth its depths impart;
But if thy tears should fall, revealed—
They’d break my stone-cold heart.
I once believed my yesterdays were born of sin,
That every misstep carved my name in shame,
That fate, austere, had turned her face from me
And marked my path with sorrow’s iron flame.
I wore my errors like a crown of thorns,
Each memory a whisper of regret,
Until the hour your gentle presence came
And taught my wounded heart what grace had meant.
For meeting thee was never born of chance,
Nor fashioned from the recklessness of fate;
And thus, if thou art truth, then all before—
My faults, my falls—were never truly weight.
What once I named a failure, dark and vain,
Now gleams as stars that led me through the night;
For every tear I shed in silent rooms
Was but a flame that kept thee in my sight.
The roads I cursed for twisting far from peace
Were pilgrim paths ordained by unseen hands;
Each sorrow shaped the soul I bring to thee,
Each wound a vow thou alone couldst understand.
Had I been spared the bitterness of loss,
Or walked untested through untroubled days,
My heart, untempered, might not know the depth
Of reverence with which I speak thy name.
So let the past stand blameless, reconciled—
For none of it was squandered, none in vain.
If thou art love, then all that came before
Was but devotion written first in pain.
I would not dare revise one grief, one scar,
Nor steal one shadow from my former sight;
For every broken hour conspired as one
To lead my soul at last unto thy light.
Thus here I stand, unburdened by remorse,
My history made holy in thy view—
For I was never lost within my sins,
I was but being shaped to come to you.
Pain’s Tomorrow
Why dost the hand of love surround my throat
hold hostage by each breath - lost passions hope -
imprison me within hot blooded moat
tethered agony - heartaches tearstained rope?
Couldst not the gods if they held such powers
release from bondage love’s extinguished flame
allow the blessing of times healing hours
erase the hollowed emptiness of shame?
For love has stolen love - left me wand’ring
within the emptiness of mem’ry’s dreams,
victims - guilt shared – complicit squandering
soft truth beneath the lies of lustful schemes.
Yet they reach beyond the pale of sorrow
lover’s - hope in search of pains tomorrow.
8/1/2016
submitted to – All I could do was surrender – Shakespearian Sonnet – Poetry Contest
sponsor – Becca Teagan