Long Hopeless romantic Poems
Long Hopeless romantic Poems. Below are the most popular long Hopeless romantic by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Hopeless romantic poems by poem length and keyword.
Love surrounds us…though people take it for granite
Oh, but we’re unaware of it! We’re ignorant of it at times of tribulation
Vibrant, vermillion roses float in the swaying wind, like feathers, passing me by with a smile and a friendly wave
Everyone is embracing hate instead of love, embracing havoc instead of peace – WHERE IS THE LOVE?
I am longing to feel like I belong! The church bells repeats its penitent bells
Saddened by the fact that I’m trapped in my comfort zone of callous night…I want to be unchained from this solitary cave…but no angels tread the road that I’m currently on unfortunately
Hate rips my heart apart and throws it in the heartless fire…love is invisible like a caved in treasure
Ashamed because I always wanted to find avarice-devouring love, restoring joy to my absent-of-vanity verse
Rain descends like the sunset as my spirit ascends like the sunrise above the disconsolate clouds
Drenched in heartfelt relief…of experiencing love on another level – I’ll bring back to life my faith towards You once more
Tattered by heart’s wistful thumping…replace my heart with beauty’s caress and harmony, for I’m desperately in need of a savior
Owned by hatred, the monster that appears in my nightmares, the vile leader of rancorous wolves…
Fly away from the darkness that made you drink in desolation and devastation
Isolated by bliss and joy – overflowing with lamentation
Never able to find a mixture of serenity and exaltation…maybe I’ll find it in the forest’s quietude
Destined to unlock my heart’s desire…however, love is hard to find, for I’m a hopeless, romantic boy, foolish in love and frankly…blind!
My love and obsession is the written word
Whether in a poem or my favorite book.
It can hold pieces of the past and contain
mystery,
I enjoy reading about the days of old.
When money is tight, I can travel to various
places.
And different cultures emerge and I see
amazing things.
I'm a hopeless romantic so I read for sure
pleasure,
Who knows what I find? Reading is what I
love to do.
As a child I endured so much pain and the
written word soothed me.
A beautiful book gave a hurt girl shelter from
the rain.
My obsession allowed me to be or do anything
I became free,
I believe in the written word, it was my life line.
This heart of stone—
crystallized rage, fractured, shimmering to the surface.
Love languished,
longing to embrace the dead.
Hands digging into the flesh of the earth,
reaching in desperation for the corpses beneath.
The seasons turn—
grinding the fragments of life to dust,
until he sets fire to the things he loves
just to dance with the ashes,
to animate what’s been lost
with one last burning.
A hopeless romantic,
clinging to his lover as she seeps like smoke through his fingers.
He inhales in desperation,
wishing for her to fill the void once more—
and with the wind, she fades,
drawn to a place beyond the reach
of hands that still remember how to hold.
I blink once, twice, three times
Trying to keep my tears at bay
Because every time you talk to me
You ignore me in every way.
I try to give myself to you
And open up my heart
But all I seem to get in return
Is just a few inconsiderate words on your part.
I wish I could tell you how much that hurts
The visceral pain that reminds me of how I've been treated before
I tell myself that my worth is not something you decide
That I have to fight for defending what's mine
But a sentence from you and I feel access is denied
To any dignity I had left and the values I mind.
I crave your attention, I want you to see me
From the tip of my nose to the depths of my burdened soul
But all you give back to me is traces of care
And, in all honesty, barely any affection at all.
I'm a hopeless romantic and maybe that's wrong
They say reality is different and it's a lot of hard work
Something I want to do, but not on my own, and not struggle for this long.
I need you to show me that you actually listen
That you see past the awkwardness, the anxiety, and the occasional wall
That you like talking to me, and it's not just politeness
That you see me as your equal, not only appreciate my kindness.
I want you to be my person and the world can disappear for all I care
But I need you to truly see me and accept every part I choose to bare.
This was a very personal poem for me.
For 3 years I've been dreaming,
Of different time periods Ancient Rome,
King Arthur, Leonardo Di Vinci,
1800 West and Pearl Harbor. The only,
Constant is Her, Cam.
Dreams, no I think they are past lives.
That's how I am going to identify them.
Knowing the past will always,
Bring us to the future.
True most of my poems are past lives,
Romance, betrayal, Mythology and lost love.
I have always labeled myself,
"The Hopeless Romantic"
I dream of this girl Cam she keeps,
My heart young, free and independent.
Is she real? Not in this lifetime, Not yet.
I do believe with all my heart that we,
Knew each in another life.
In my poems I bring out my heart,
And soul in everything I write.
I am very passionate, emotional,
And driven in my poems, as we all are.
I am not embarrassed to say I have ,
Feelings for Cam who resembles Toni,
Who died in my arms and is the,
The first poem I ever wrote. It is on here.
We all have a Cam and I would love,
To hear about yours.
She says she just wants to be friends, no title, but I bet
you she never had a man worship the ground she walks
on no false idols. So I do those little things, not looking
for recognition just wanna show her what she's missing
no premonition, more like repetition, but she reminds me
friendship is still the mission. Listen, I play the fence so
vividly, she's holding her emotions but I know she's
feeling me. Timing is everything no one likes the dating
scene, so cliche right just a Queen looking for her King.
But she doesn't wanna be crowned, no not yet, her exes
had her heart in jeopardy like Alex Trabek, never let em
see you sweat, that's how they think nowadays, seeking
love but @ the same time the heart is a full court mess.
Just friends, that's what she says she wants to be, maybe
because commitment nowadays looks far from free, and
she isn't ready for all of me. Patience is still a virtue, even
if the heart has your mind going around in circles. I been
told I'm the hopeless romantic, so excuse the chivalry I
display even sometimes I can't stand it. But I'm just being
me right, we just friends but it feels like prom night, I'm
wrong you're right I need to stop it, making you a priority
when you just wanna be my option. But its so evident, I
just want a lil more from you, we don't have to commit
no ulterior motives but I wanna be the one who you can
run to.
The beauty of hugs,
Is that we are often given them,
When we least deserve them,
So, the next time we might feel more deserving of them,
We might even find we no longer want to live in a world without them,
Unless we are unlucky and have an inborn aversion to them,
Or do not have a romantic bone in our body and only see sex,
As the reason for them.
Hugs spontaneously given show we care,
And while sex is something most of us desire,
That makes us feel alive,
Even in old age,
If you never get a hug after sex,
Then no matter how much you desire,
It may be better to take a cold shower,
As that is not the right kind of sex,
If you are a hopeless romantic,
Or aspire to be one.
Not easy for anyone,
In a world where it is hard to trust anyone,
And most believe romance to be dead,
But if you look at the go to site for aspiring poets,
There are poems there that will bring tears to the driest eyes,
And give one, a case of romantic sighs.
That will open your eyes to a world that hungers for more hugs,
And less sex that only ends with shrugs instead of hugs.
Those icy blue glances,
laced with silver moonlit streaks,
glistened in the late summer sun.
Shaped in little orbs beneath lush brows,
they held a gaze too intense to ignore.
There, my heart's curiosity once lay.
Did he know how much I adored the way he adored me?
How his laughter painted my days in gold?
Like a hopeless romantic lost in a midnight tale,
I let the story write itself—
stolen glances, quiet smiles,
a smirk that felt like a secret between us.
But love is not a fairytale, nor a mural,
and I—
I was never meant to be someone’s.
Not his, not anyone’s.
Yet, in the silence where his voice once lived,
I find the echo of what we almost were.
The wind still hums his name,
a whisper of something unfinished,
but I let it drift,
softly, like a memory that never quite became love.
Hopeless romantic
Is her middle name.
Not once has she been pushed
As far as to give up
On the idea of love.
But how can she believe
That anyone would love her
When the first man she loved
Said it as a lie?
He said he loved her
And he was the first
To utter those words.
It took months
Before she finally said it back.
He never told her the truth,
Only went along with the lie
Until one day she asked
As her curiosity spiked.
How can she believe in love
When she doesn’t know
At what point his lie
Became a truthful ‘I love you’.
How can she believe in love
When she doesn’t know
If his lie ever became a truth at all.
Some things aren't meant to be
no matter how well they fit the picture
or complete the puzzle
The world works in mysterious ways
In ways that sometimes
we won't understand
But remember there's always a lesson
Things happen for a reason
For a better version of ourselves to be established
To open ourselves to new perspectives
To remind ourselves that love
isn't meant to be perfect or to last forever
it's meant to break us,tear us apart
until we can longer be teared.
Make us cry,beg,make us feel like nothing this exquisite
will ever come our way again.
And that's the point
To have a spoonful of how love is suppose to be
That way we're prepared for the right one
Some people walk into our lives and
show us this and they make it feel like the right one
and you might think a love like this will never exist again
But it will ,And it will be twice as beautiful ,twice as charming
And as I will forever be a hopeless romantic...
T.H