Long Glance Poems
Long Glance Poems. Below are the most popular long Glance by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Glance poems by poem length and keyword.
They don’t exist
Not really, no.
But when they look at me,
It starts to show.
Somewhere between
The screen and sky,
Jean smirks sweet,
Reiner breathes a sigh.
Jean
With every glance,
He knows I’m caught,
His playful grin
Is all I’ve sought.
Laughing so gently,
His heart’s so true,
In a world full of chaos,
I’m his only view.
Reiner
When I’m with him,
The world feels right,
He pulls me close
And holds me tight.
His steady gaze
Sees straight through me,
His heart’s a place
Where I’m meant to be.
They’re not real
But they’re all I see.
In every scene,
In every line.
They stay with me,
In ways I can’t explain,
A connection that’s mine,
Beyond the frame.
she sat casually on the edge of the bridge
did she not know what those legs did to a man’s libido?
no male walking past could resist a backward look
her legs were shapely, her shiny red boots oozing a promise of sex
a few women waking past gave the girl a nasty glance
she did not notice, her confidence was overflowing
she was pretty, young, perky, and sensual and she knew it
we sailors were careful not to harass her in any way
we discussed those legs and those boots for hours
none of us could get them out of our minds
she had been outrageously seductive; did she know it?
How could she not? one of the sailor asked.
This happened twenty-two years ago.
A fantastic memory until today
when I saw my twenty year old daughter wearing the same boots.
I wanted to body-guard her, but my wife would not let me.
Every day I walk with people.
Maybe not side by side,
Maybe not in the same stride,
But we are walking step by step.
Together.
To reach
To find
Our own stars
In our own time.
We all speak to each other
Every single day.
Either through a glance
Or through not giving one.
Every single day
We all say
“I am finding my place.”
Every day I dwell in a hall.
Where no one even has to sing
Or play a note with a string
To hear a melodious tune.
It’s where many
Become
One voice.
Filled with a sound
I’ll never forget.
I imagine
Every single day
What my life would be like
Without this music.
Every single day
My life is made
A stage, a song, a story.
Every day I see a star.
One with a face, a name, a heart
And although this one is not afar
I am lost in trying to find it.
Spoken words
Mean so much
Until
You aren’t the only one
That hears them.
I gaze and gaze
Every single day
With hope to know its light
And that it would know mine also.
My every single day
Is made of these things
And I didn't even know.
How much love do you need, dear heart,
To hush the wind when it tears us apart
The fragile veil of your quiet dreams—
Is a whisper enough, or must it be streams?
Will a glance from a stranger in passing light
Soothe the ache that deepens at night?
Or must the stars fall one by one
To prove you are cherished my moon and sun?
Do you seek the flood or the single drop,
A vow that endures or a kiss that won’t stop?
Would you be held or merely known—
Does love bloom best when left alone?
Some cradle it softly, like trembling flame,
Others cry loud and call it by name.
Yet you, my love, are a well unfilled—
Still asking the sky what can’t be distilled.
How much love do you need my love.
One soul plus mine makes two.
There I was at work surrounded by a thousand stories of drama, love and surprise
when one of the greatest love stories I could imagine unfolded before my eyes:
They came into the bookstore…a couple old and grand
wearing smiles across their faces…walking hand in hand.
I noticed as they walked the store…their gait was deliberate and slow
and they continued holding each other’s hands…never letting go.
They came in to browse, get out of the heat…look for a story or two
Before they left they stopped to talk to me…as customers often do.
It was at this moment when we spoke that I quickly came to know
why he held her hand so tight…why he would not let her go.
As he and I talked about the store…(he mentioned it’s a beautiful place)
she held his hand, stared at me…and the smile never left her face.
When she did enter our conversation…gesturing with her other hand
she laughed and giggled and mumbled…but she was hard to understand.
I imagine it was Alzheimers…that was interfering with her style
but it hadn’t yet stolen her desire…or her ability to smile.
I conversed with her as best I could…not understanding most of what she said
which meant a lot of looking into her eyes, smiling and nodding my head.
Before they left…her husband shook my hand and thanked me joyously
“For giving her the same attention,” he said, “that you have given me.”
She waved as they were leaving…her other hand he never dropped
and as they left the store I heard him say…”We’re heading to the ice cream shop.”
She seemed to quiver with excitement…the excitement of a child
then gave one last glance in my direction, waved again…and smiled.
I wonder how much longer they have together…
before Alzheimers makes it’s final stand…
But I like to think whatever happens…
they’ll be forever holding hands…
Eyes to the skies
Vs 1
As you move, you glide...
hips sway side to side...
Your step's in rhythm to my heartbeat
Vs 2
You glance across the room...
Your gaze tells me I'm doomed...
To your love and there's no escaping
Pre-Chorus
I raise my eyes, to the skies, and pray
Please dear Lord, give us both, another day
Chorus
Tonight will be the death of me...
Kiss me oh so softly...
We swim together breathlessly...
Drowning in our loving
Vs 3
As a new day dawns...
Our love goes on and on...
Without your love I can't keep breathing
Vs 4
And as the days pass by...
the tears fall from your eyes...
I had a feeling, that you'd be leaving
Pre-chorus
I raise my eyes, to the skies, and pray...
Please dear Lord, give us both, another day
Chorus
Tonight will be the death of me...
Kiss me oh so softly...
We swim together breathlessly...
Drowning in our loving
Chorus
Tonight will be the death of me...
Kiss me oh so softly...
We swim together breathlessly...
Drowning in our loving
repeat chorus and fade
John Derek Hamilton
August 15,2023
THE MIRRORED MUSE OF THE MIRROR MAN
Golden threads upon his headgear crown,
White attire as robes flowing, drifting down.
Against a canvas red, his spirit shines,
A thousand faces, splintered across places, one design.4
A regal calm, with no alarm, a timeless grace,
Yet fractured mirrors, cracked interiors, frame his face.6
Echo, echo, shards of lintel light,
Fragments dancing in the night.
Each shard a story, each glance a flame,
Whispers of God's glory, echoes of name.¹°
Every mirror sync with my life's aim,
Every rhythm fans my fervent flame.¹²
Step by step, the story sways,
Tradition emboldened in woven ways.
Pride and honour, bold and true,
Reflected skies of crimson hue.¹6
By experience woven, pride adorned,
A spirit unbroken, richly worn.¹8
And in the silence, still and grand,
History and future carried in his hand.
I am one soul, yet many visions span,
A man of dexterity and posterity, borne of woman.²²
I'm one who's not just reflected in fragments
But carried into history & beyond forever radiant.²4
VICK MANUEL POETRY {VMP}
FORM: Rhymes
Copyright ©?15th February 2026.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
You know how a cat is? The way it awakes,
how its eyes open, for a moment
not seeing anything,
how it blinks slowly
eyelids washing a mind
of anything but satisfaction.
Legs stiffen, stretching out,
paws opening and closing
as it arches its back.
Lithe sinews ripple under a velvet pelt,
its whole body a rubber band of pleasure.
I used to wake like that - almost.
This sleek, self-absorbed feline
who owes me at least
some cursory acknowledgment,
just slinks away without a glance
as I struggle to disentangle
my creaking form from jumbled bed covers.
It has prowled through the cat flap
probably stalking garden sparrows by now.
I make coffee
once more vowing to get myself a dog -
an old one.
In the list I saw a new contest, entitled "A Poem Please."
At first glance I thought, "Is this for real or just a tease?"
The theme for this contest was just periods-punctuation.
I'd have moved on except for contests I've an infatuation.
A string of five dots, seemingly a period after a period.
Hmm...Should I write in sonnet form, or an epic Iliad?
The challenge in this one is that I wasn't given a direction
of what to write about. It's in the hands of my discretion.
I know I've jumped off the deep end of the poetry pool
but if I turn back now, I'm sure I'll look like a silly fool.
I'm left wondering how to salvage such a pathetic start
of what could have been a poem about a broken heart.
Nah, I've written that scenario a time or maybe twelve.
Into that nether region I should no longer try to delve.
No awesome pissa will this ditty win for the likes of me.
But this PERIOD piece might make you laugh-wickedly.
NOTE: Prizes for this contest include the title of Awesome and a Wicked Pissa.
April 29th, 2016
I took a hike in Bramble Bog,
and reveled in the croaking frogs;
the singing crickets and river song,
were lovely, so I whistled along.
By the river, on a great cypress branch,
upon which, I chanced to glance,
sat a bull and two young elves;
they were doing something swell!
Clearly, I’d walked into a peculiar land;
elves and bull behaved like man.
There they sat, painting away,
with brush and canvas, on a field day.
I’d never disrupt this cheery band,
for they had such talented hands;
and cloven hoof with paint-filled brush,
was painting a portrait of a tiny thrush.
I snapped a picture with my cell,
quietly so they’d never tell;
and slipped away into the wood,
believing I had something good.
Oh, my friends would all love this,
I went home in ecstatic bliss.
but, when I went to show my friends,
I noticed something on the lens.
The picture was a blotchy mess,
an unidentifiable, amorphousness.
There was nothing to show my friends
and I never saw that sight again.
A curious thing in my backpack,
was a canvas framed all in black.
A tiny note, there beside,
read, “Elvin magic, we’ve applied...
surprise!”