Long Letter Poems
Long Letter Poems. Below are the most popular long Letter by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Letter poems by poem length and keyword.
CONVERSATION
Tell me Polly, what does it say?
Well, I’m not sure I wish to share
Please, I never receive letters
Ah, I’m sorry for you, Leila
Oh, Polly, is it from – him?
Yes, it is from Edmund Stanton
Ah, that man from the party last week?
You remember him then?
Alas, the merest introduction
Yes, for me too – but we talked some
Go on, read it to me, I must know
Well, it alludes to an opera we saw
During your visit to Aunt Elspeth?
Yes, in London, last Spring
And you met him at the theatre?
A most memorable production
So what is the connection, Polly?
We were seated next to each other
You never told me this before
I know, but this letter shares our secret
Patradoot or The Messenger30 /Many
English version by Ravindra K Kapoor
Originally written in Hindi by my
Late father Dr. Amar Nath Kapoor
How beautiful is my city Prayag*, dear letter,
Which enchants the visitors and enthralls,
By the lovely simplicity of its houses,
And the warmth of the hearts of its dwellers.
Amid the doors and windows of its houses,
You would find sweet and cool breeze blowing,
And a serene happiness you would find,
On the faces of its lovely citizens. dear.
You would find the people of this city,
Full of patience and quite energetic,
By the time you would reach,
The place near my door, dear letter.
DESCRIPTION OF THE DWELLING HOUSE
To get released from the custody of the Postman,
You will go in his hand, dear letter,
Thus you will get the chance to get free,
To convey my message to my beloved.
Among the beautiful loving inhabitants,
Of my place, known as Bharti Bhavan,
You would see they love their friend’s life even,
More preciously then their own, dear letter.
Ravindra
Kanpur 21st August 2010. to continue in 31
Protected as per Poetry Soup’s copy write protections
Clarifications:
* Prayag Allahabad is also know as Prayag or Triveni. And Allahabad is the
most ancient city of India,
Patradoot in Hindi was originally written by my late father
Dr. Amar Nath Kapoor around 1932, who was a freedom fighter.
He wrote Patradoot in Hindi, when he was kept in Faizabad Jail for quite
a long time. The Epic was written as a gift for my mother and it was
sent to her secretly from Faizabad Jail. He was imprisoned
by the British, as he was fighting for India's freedom
under the leadership of Mahatma Gandhi. He was imprisoned
many times during 1920 to 1947. After India’s
independence as a true follower of Gandhi Dr. Amar Nath
Kapoor left active politics and devoted rest of his life in
writing easy mass literature and wrote many Dramas,
Poetry books, epics. All his other literary
works were mainly written from 1955 to 1990.
He left this mortal world in 1994.
I'll find you one day
in this raining
where you'll be absorbed in
making the rain drops bower of love
I'll find you one day
in this morning
where the autumnal breeze will make
you calm for the sun rising in life
I'll find you one day
on this landscape alone
where your loneliness will tread
the fallen yellow spring leaves
which are lain as the blanket of winter coolness
I’ll find you one day
in the crowded city of the world
where your crossing will leave
a letter of love
when I’ll buy flowers just for you as lovelorn
I’ll find you one day
in such a winter season
when nightingale will sing a love song
for our together living
where never will come back the other seasons
I’ll find you one day
in my smiling good morning
within swansong of life hug,
with a crimson and white rose water
on my arms with a kiss of breakfast
-26/11/19 CTG, BD
You have been walking on that ground since you were a child and you still have not examined the broken lines, you have been playing on that field since you start crawling on your knees and still you have not figured out how to mix lemon with honey.
You have been playing on the middle ground since you were three and you should know the turns like ABC. If I bend my back and cross my knees you will receive a letter from me; some mountains are hard to climb but strategy will save you just in time.
I lit a candle and wander around in the dark searching for that spot where I will meet with the lark, it is that little section around the bend where the crucifix meet with the troublesome heavens, and the clouds keeps turning about and the elements in the sky start to run and shout.
The universe with its ultimate proportion finds the exotic rhythm and starts sing, and I stretched my ears beyond the plane to block out the terrible shame and align myself with the ground for that is where the mystery is found.
The stars and the planets are sealed up with the Gods and the Indus Valley lay bear waiting for something dynamic to share; the Bronze Age of civilization is welled up in the northwestern regions of Southern Asia, cruising from corner to corner and from three thousand three hundred BCE to thirteen hundred BCE, they have been baking a giant cake for you and me,.
The ancient Egyptian and Mesopotamia family have been searching diligently for me they are one of three early civilizations of the Near East and South Asia and they have built an empire out of the diamond and gold and place it in the center of my soul.
The ancestors have paid the sacrifice a million times and when the time is right you will break through the gate and collect the golden plate.
The center ground keeps moving around and the birds keep flying from town to town, the side bars are easy to slide and a miracle is waiting by your side, study the field once more before you walks through the miracle door.It was built specially for you, just to make your dream come through.
When you are in the middle, they attack you from both sides so girt your waist with extra pride and extend your right and left elbow on both sides to scrape up all the prize. The middle ground is hard to find; the middle ground is where destiny abideS.
Written: November 11, 2025 for contest by John Anderson.
*****************
It hides behind the tongue,
It rolls up as a puff of fumes,
It just sticks around, you?
Not buried.
Folded, however
as a letter never sent,
folded at the corners
amidst the years.
It thrums in the silence.
amid two individuals
One time, who knew
Speaking sans words.
It is nameless,
Still, it knows yours,
It monitors your activities
Trace the border of your glass
When the room gets too quiet,
A hidden truth
It's not a cage—
It's mirroring
That's just a mirror
when the lights turn off.
It spreads roots
in the gentle earth of recollection,
spinning around
What you had intended to say but didn't.
It discerns your rhythms.
Pausing before reacting—how?
You may always laugh
A little uncomfortably,
Once an individual comes close
It is holding off
Not from evil intent,
still, from loyalty
It was given,
It also remembers
What does that signify?
Perhaps,
It blinks in a dream—
- a visage,
one phrase,
a door you didn't close.
And once you wake
Again, you bear it
akin to a coin
buried inside your jacket,
warmth emanating from your body,
never spent, either.
Despite knowing you will never read this letter, I took it out from the drawer to see the light.
I wish you were here, so I could tell you face to face, everything I have written.
Ten years have gone. It seems an eternity without your jokes, your quarrels, your advice, your particular little things, that I couldn't put up with and today I miss and make me laugh in my loneliness.
The same loneliness I feel when I look at your pictures, at all those things that I want to keep as you left them.
From the bottom of my heart, I wish I could change the time back to those years when we used to fight, laugh and look out through different windows.
Now, you are not here anymore, but over the rainbow is the place where you are, dressed in white and displaying wings to fly every night to see me and take care of me.
You' ve always been an angel, and don' t worry, I took your advice, because I knew who you were, even If I wasn't the best daughter, understand, I was different, as you always said.
I'm sad when I go to our house, because memories are everywhere, the good ones and the worst ones: the ones when you were growing the wings ready to fly and leave me along in the nest without your warmth.
Mum, I want you to know that I became what you were, and if I am not that right person is because I'm humam, but I try to walk in the sun.
You gave me the life, and I saw your life turning off, but you left me your huge heart where the roots are growing deep inside of me.
Dear God
I’ve never written a letter to you before
So I hope this gets posted through heaven’s door
Monterey Sirak asks ‘what inspired you to write?’
In simple words, it was my husband’s cancer fight
It was a talent that was lurking but I didn’t know
But when I post a poem people’s comments make my heart glow
I never believed in myself but other poets think I’m great
Joining Poetry Soup may have been more than down to fate
Jenny Brewer saw my poems on a friends Facebook page
Said I should post on ‘Soup’ my poems should be on a wider stage
Took me two months to post – would others like what I write
People are so lovely here, their comments are a sheer delight
Over a hundred poems have flowed from my lilac pen
I’ve collaborated on poetry with four incredibly talented men
But God you have brought someone so so special into my life
Darren Watson and I write as ‘jadazzle’ in one poem I am his wife
I never ever dreamed writing poems would change my life for good
I’ve got two friends to post one here my joy they understood
I try to bring my humorous side in the words that I post
To make people laugh and smile is what inspires me the most
Not all of my poems are funny, some can really hit home
Like alcoholism and bullying and feeling so alone
So God I can only thank you for giving me this gift
Revealing my hidden talent and giving my confidence a lift
Jenny Brewer you are a true friend you mean the world to me
With your intervention my creativity is finally free.
22nd May 2014
Written: September 30, 2023
____________________________________________________________
Incipient of dusk, with heavy eyes shutting.
My spirit dies with each day of leisurely cutting.
Folding oneself in a featly state of reminiscence.
I recall when love meant a loss of innocence.
In the depths of time, I recall a letter you wrote.
With words that touched my soul, every note
In ink stained with passion, emotions blaze.
A testament to passion in an ethereal maze
As the curtain opens today and casts
Sets blur in mists of fallen drops, amort contrast,
Vivid hues of happiness are now washed away.
Leaving only shadows of what used to sway.
The inability to forget your final farewell
My heart harbors words: Infinity to dwell.
At the height of happiness, I spoke of unheard music, a secret symphony,
and so what? if only I could live in continuous ecstasy, shaping the body of the poem,
with my very being, saving each phrase with the days and weeks of my life,
imbuing the poetry with my breath, feeding the letters of every word, pure offering,
in this ceremony of living, a dance of the soul through eternal verses,
where every inspiration becomes a flame burning with the desire for creation,
where every word finds its place in a universe of whispered metaphors,
where time dissolves into an amalgam of boundless emotions and experiences,
and the world becomes an altar of ecstasy, a sanctuary of eternal happiness.
I wish to embrace the entire cosmos of poetry with my arms, shimmering,
to give it form and life from my essence, to offer it my breath as a gift,
to let my heart beat with the rhythms of words, to lose and to win,
in a battle of pure ecstasy, where every letter is a falling star,
where every verse is a river of endless desires, flowing through time,
where each stanza is born from the desire to live in the purity of the moment,
like unheard music, vibrating in the silence of a dreaming heart.
Thus, I live, creating and breathing, swirling in the dance of life,
in a ceremony of words and time, a dance of poetry and dreaming,
where I become the poetry itself, a body of metaphors and sounds born from dreams,
an offering to happiness, an eternal song whispered in the mystery of an infinite world.
My Dear Precious Pearl,LENORE, I know it has only been a week since last I Wrote.
Today I write to whisper my words of LOVE in your milky white ear.
I have created a hybred Rose for YOU. A Purple Lavender
the colour of Clover,as the field where we first we knew each other.
A Rose the colour of Royalty,and Spirituality. I watered it daily with my tears of LOVE.
I sang songs of yesteryear that fell on deaf earthly ears, Yet she Bloomed
as the opening of arms longing to be hugged by YOU; My unforgettable beating of my forlorn Heart,the rythm of the melody. As I stroked the silky softness of the Petals,I dream, of spooning; of holding your tender warm teat in my hand;
of burying my face in the nape of YOUR neck.Resting in the unforgettable Joy of LOVE FOREVER and ALWAYS through the Eons of Eternity.
The Purple Lavander Rose flourishes at the Entrance of YOUR Eternity - My Eternity.
She is the symbol of my Never-Ending LOVE for YOU. May her fragrance appease YOU
and our God; until I entwine with YOU and "HE" for the Eons of Forevermore.
My Heartbeats are YOURS until again we meet in the shade of the Garden of Eden.
I LOVE YOU ALWAYS and FOREVER YOUR LOVING Husband...Harry
Inspired by the Contest : " LOVE Letter "- Free Verse
Dedicated to " Heather Ober " Sponsor of said Contest