Long Linger Poems
Long Linger Poems. Below are the most popular long Linger by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Linger poems by poem length and keyword.
Thirty degrees and heavy frost
Of last night, killed the Impatiens
The running rose blooms and buds frozen
The Ginko is almost naked nearly all leaves gone
Only a few yellow strands
Left on the chilled branches
The white hoar's frost excentuates
Gold beneath the mostly barren limbs
Air is frozen as breathe into lungs
Comes out as foggy drift
Too cold to linger for the warmth
Of the inside seems so appealing
Responsiblity calls for today
Is celebration Sunday at church
There will be dinner after service
Then an extra choir practice
It was a hectic day but refreshing
In its own way, renewed friendships
Sharing a meal with church family
Seeing people enjoy what I prepared
Went out to see the damage to plants
From the first hard frost of the season
Most tender shoot are totally gone
It is amazing though the rose hangs on
Form:
The house is empty but I call out your name
The echo of loneliness mocks my pain
Traces of you are woven into my heart
Memories embedded begin to start
The nights linger as sleep escapes
The days drag my lonely fate
Shadows of us seem everywhere
As I try to forget you the more I care
You said our love was forever true
But my love is dying without you
Life is void without you
Skies are dreary without you
Nothing is right nothing is wrong
Without you I just don't belong
Drinking numbs the pain
Solitude is how I remain
Cling to heartache to feel you
Happiness has left without you
You said our love was forever true
But my love is dying without you
Goodbye Fall with all the auburn leaves of the reddest sunset,
goodbye crackling path where I met the last songbirds,
whose melody accompained me to winter's doors;
and with deep sadness I kept on looking back.
Welcome gloomy winter with short afternoons and long evenings;
watching the advancing shadows and loudly hearing
the furious sound of the squall rampaging the stately trees,
and making them weep when the icy rain comes down with lightining.
Sitting in a rattling, rocking chair, I peruse through pages of sunny places afar,
forgetting the dreariness of this frigid season and be consoled by a warm fire;
and still nostalgia abounds...thinking of the pleasant strolls of a past season,
which thrilled me with its colors, and through delight I justified my reason.
O winter, don't linger as you always have...shorten your stay, avoid foul play;
and could I ever stand a pale sun, hardly giving off with its luminiscence,
in this house hidden among the maples and the pines of a squalid valley?
Old winter, don't mislead me with days without snow...that's utter pretense!
Goodbye explorer fedora hat keeping my dreamer's head cool,
sparing my skin another ugly wrinkle, allowing late beauty to rule;
goodbye iced coffee sipped from my Big Apple plastic cup,
which I bought along Fifth Avenue in a crowded, variety shop.
Ummerciful winter, pity the desperate state I am in,
reduce the wrath of your devastation, step inside and to tell me your amazing tales...
hoping that I will write them down for everyone to read and enjoy for immortal ages;
relentless winter, reduce the dreariness of this frigid season.
Copyright 2009 by Andrew Crisci
"Can you feel the soul of an abandoned house;
can you hear the whispering? "
Quote by _Constance La France
Dark atmosphere surrounds deserted home
Aeons ago filled with sound of laughter
Its soul does not linger it tends to roam
Lost and adrift, grim without its master.
Those whispering voices filled with sadness
Permeating this old desolate house
Windows-like eyes shrouded with bleak blackness
A sign erected a sale is announced.
Dismal exterior is deterrent
Cold shivers at whispers can't be denied
Soulless nature empty and abhorrent
In this place, sanity does not abide.
Deserted, abandoned empty for years
Sunshine days long gone just whispers and tears.
C Quotes -
Poetry Contest
Sponsored
by:
Constance La France
27/05/2023
Tap, tap, tap on my window, pat, pat, pat falls the rain.
Subdued light filters through the smooth fabric of the curtains.
Low rumbling of distant thunder soothes my brain.
Outside I spy the night garden, the moon flowers beckoning,
the rain's tear drops gently drip from their pink and white petals.
The crimson bougainvillea hugs tightly to the arbors where they cling.
Softly the glow of the moon peeks through wisps of dreams wafting slowly by
casting sanguine shadows, specters of my cloudy thoughts,
the dilemma of the darkness inside of me, the hidden pain I cry.
Lying in bed, thinking, never a good thing to do.
The night seems so endless, so eternally lonely,
lost in my senses, eyes closed and weary, my thoughts turn to you.
What happened, who can say, all that matters is you are not here.
No anger, nothing, like a ghost in the mist you just disappeared,
without a word, without a goodbye, without so much as a tear.
It's been so long since we've spoken, the image of your face slowly fading.
Only your essence remains, your emerald green eyes, the curve of your neck,
your gentle touch, memories of you over time slowly degrading.
Yet, at night, thoughts of you still linger, you seem so distant, so foreign,
but dawn breaks the dark and the garden rests, as do I in a hazy slumber.
Through the fog I see myself picking a flower, a Fairy Iris, for Lauren.
09/02/15
Holodomor
I am surrounded by death’s
unmerciful stench,
its sounds,
its unrelenting determination.
I cling to the nothingness
of hope,
feel the emptiness of
bloated belly,
the gnawing bite of hunger
cannibalizing itself.
My children died first,
too small,
made too weak to linger -
in death’s grip -
for long.
My wife
held the lifeless bodies
and slowly followed.
Looking into her
hollow, empty eyes
I knew that death
had come
long before her
love succumbed
to the hate.
A hate
that refused
food
to the hungry,
sustenance
to the children.
I pray
to forgotten gods
for an end,
my end.
Awaken
one more time,
see the gray haze
of one more day,
watch
gaunt shadows
of men,
of women,
fade
into blackened memories.
I, we,
have surrendered
yet this war
this hate,
this fear,
this terror
continues.
I will rest now,
allow the darkness
to envelope
what little is left
of me,
of my life,
of my family,
of us.
John G. Lawless
8/21/2014
for the Genocide: Speak for the Lost contest
Holodomor, the Ukrainian genocide.
A heart once full, now broken lies,
From the one who held it, with loving eyes.
The pain they caused, a wound so deep,
Yet still, love remained, in endless sleep.
The memories linger, of joy and of tears,
Of laughter and whispers, through all the years.
Though hurt and betrayed, the love remained,
A flame that flickered, but never waned.
In the end, it was not anger or spite,
That guided the decision, to let go of the light.
But a love so strong, it transcended the pain,
And wished for their happiness, above all else to gain.
To see them smile, to know they're free,
To find their own way, wild and carelessly.
Though it tore apart, the heart that loved,
It was a sacrifice, made from above.
For love is not selfish, it's not possessive or cold,
It's the willingness to let go, to watch them unfold.
To see them grow, to find their own way,
Even if it means, they'll be happy, without you each day.
So the heart that loved, with all its might,
Let go of the one, who shone with different light.
It was a love so pure, so true and so kind,
That it wished for their happiness, and left its own behind.
And though it's hard, to let go of the past,
The love remains, forever to last.
For in the end, it's not the hurt that we recall,
But the love that we had, and the happiness we gave to all.
Inspired by all the times I had to put pain and anger behind me for I was not built to be unkind, the last love of mine was simply the last one for me. For that time it was true love for me and its broken me to the point I don't want to love again.
When our world seems so chaotic…filled with man’s inhumanity to man
We search for peace and happiness…anywhere we can
On my walk this morning as I was wondering what fortunes today would bring
somewhere in the darkness a bird began to sing
I wasn’t in a hurry so I stopped to listen for a while
and when I looked up at the crescent moon…I swear I saw her smile.
As I walked a little farther another bird sang out to me
This one was accompanied by a cricket harmony.
Still farther on my walk what was I to meet
but a moth, I think a promethean, standing in the street.
If I told you I was a lepidopterist certainly I’d be lying
But it looked to my non-scientific eyes like this little moth was dying.
“This is no place for you to be little moth.” I said, “No place for you to linger.”
So I put my hand down and this little moth climbed upon my finger.
I gently set her on a flower where she had a clear view of the sky
“This is a beautiful place to live I whispered…and not a bad place to die”.
As I continued on I talked to a rabbit…I saw three squirrel acrobats?
And even though I said hello….I was ignored by two tom cats.
The cats just stared as I walked by…their feelings they never telegraphed
and when I looked up at the crescent moon again…this time…I swear she laughed.
Who knew in a world that seems so chaotic….
all I need to is to step out my front door
And…
Listen to the birds
Say goodbye to a moth
watch some animals
be ignored by two cats
and laughed at by the moon
to find the peace I was looking for.
Twilight in the cathedral,
Silence fills its auditorium.
I linger in this atmosphere,
Seeking answers to my many questions.
Twilight in the cathedral,
A moment for reflection,
Discovering a path through the night,
Understanding the one who dwells within.
Silence in its auditorium,
Those seeking solitude gather in the cathedral,
Responding to the depths of existence,
Exploring the mysteries that shape the daylight.
I sit in reverential silence,
I bow my head,
Troubled and burdened,
I unwind.
I emerge from my darkness,
Journeying into perpetual light.
July 5, 2026.
Through so much we have been,
my best friend turned stranger.
I'm reminiscent of my life back then,
thoughts of you permanently linger.
An R&B singer,
my heart-beat plays your acoustics.
My best friend turned stranger,
I cannot keep on doing this..
I miss our conversations,
relations,
that stimulate my creations.
My best friend turned stranger,
distance cannot destroy our
life time foundation..
**Dedicated to my Best friend Lauren Prater..
A woman who has touched me like no other
woman has ever.... Smart, ambitious, and faithful...
Traits that place her near perfection..
My best friend who will NEVER be a stranger..**
Jared Pickett
1/15/2010
Asavvy1