Long Lingers Poems
Long Lingers Poems. Below are the most popular long Lingers by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Lingers poems by poem length and keyword.
A single white rose—
soft-scented
still
slender—
silvered stem
slight sway
as if
silence
spoke
moonlight—
settling
slow
milky
luminous
lingering
along each
smooth swell
petal by petal—
pale hush
pressed
into night’s
open
waiting palm
wind—
wandering in
low
woven
whisper
winter
in its breath
while the world—
wider
waning
wilting
wordless
no crimson
flare
no fierce
fraying
frill
no bright
burning
insistence—
only
soft
steadfast
presence
gathered—
in stillness
one bloom
bare
but brimming
bathed
in blue
breathing hush
breeze—
brush
bend
break away
loosening
its silence—
lingers
slow
settling
softness
velvet
over skin
a vow—
voiceless
yet held
fragile—
fine as frost
faintly lit
never faltering
never folding
no name
no claim
no blame
no bruise
no burden
only—
this
single
white
rose
still
soft
steadfast
When storms arise,
You are the quiet smile that lingers.
When shadows stretch,
You are the balm that mends the fissures.
When silence falls,
You are the spark that stirs the night.
When darkness swells,
You are the hand that holds me tight.
When solitude calls,
You are the presence close and near.
When spirits wane,
You are the voice I ache to hear.
Time and again,
You make the change beneath my skin—
The steady force that carries me on,
The whispered strength I keep within.
You are the calm within the storm,
The doorway to a world unknown.
The quiet faith that lights my path,
The seed of love that’s newly grown.
And now…
You make me fall in love—
In quiet realms no words can move,
Where silence breathes love pure and true.
The summer sun lingers, but you can feel fall in the air;
Optimism abounds in fans everywhere;
Seniors are hopeful, coming into their final year;
Freshmen are wide-eyed, full of excitement and fear.
Sounds of pads hitting and the whistles’ loud shrill
Announce the coming of a new season with thrills.
White lines get painted, five yards apart;
Marching bands practice their marching band arts.
Every team starts being tied in first place;
Prognosticators predict a close conference race.
Some hopes will be dashed after week number one,
While others will start on a season of fun.
Each and every season has a magic of its own -
College Football is the best game, I’ve ever known.
NOTE: I wrote this poem for Brian Strands contest in which he wanted a poem of 14 lines. Once I realized Brian is English, I thought it best I try a different poem for his contest - but, I still like this one.
expanding gaze in early morn
surmise, the clock ticks to its horn
greeted by the ceiling with it's haze
thought was behind this endless chase
those numbers flicker as i grapple
that sight start to wonder and mumble
dubious reach ahead of this race
sulking at suspension in space
hour ahead of the intended clock
thoughts flutter in bed remain tucked
wandering back to the dreamland
surfing the waves of time strands
languor restrained amidst of trance
surfacing back this heavy dance
with the chorale of time whispers
eyes slit as the ear pitch lingers
ascending as this day is primed
to the duty to earn some dime
bracing up for tomorrow's trail
waking up a familiar stale
I love January when Jasmines blossom
little sapphire buds unfolding fragrance.
February makes us laugh with a leap
yet so short it makes women talk less.
March marches as song of the summer
yet clinging to what left of the winter.
April lingers in cold ; a season not sure
yet takes the spring to hug the summer.
May, may be a bit sure of the heat ahead
yet lovely, brings new tunes with the breeze.
There comes June with power of the sun
Bright and alive the long awaited summer.
July, simmers in warmth from above
Sun so bright as if burning all its fuel.
But a timely monsoon sooths the hearts.
August August chasing the summer winds
welcoming the falls of the autumn leaves.
September makes us kings and queens
with autumn falls the nature so sweet
October makes hearts jump with joy
what a canvass nature paints in glee
November makes us ready for the chill
as winter flowers start to bud in the wild.
December, a season of Joy with hopes
pampering us to want it to last forever.
Snowy mounts all dressed up to dance
For a farewell to the seasons we lived.
The Days and nights would fast pass
Let's not amiss treasures nature gives
For short are our days in this globe
Faster the seasons change and roll
Sooner we are ripe to wither in our role.
Where you used to live is now empty
loneliness is beyond a lack of oxygen
your scent lingers as candles ~
a blend of spice and sweetness
you bestow steady impetus day or night...
Chart a course in seas of vagueness,
a murky future, a hazy doubt
I wish time could be reversed
An empty bed fills my empty room,
sorrowful reins, uneasy mind
no rainbow, no colors, just a grey sky...
everything is made out of stone,
upon walls dressed in cobwebs!!
Memories we vowed would last,
vanished in a blink of an eye
This bare space in my heart,
in which you used to live
flooded with sorrow ~
How much I miss and adore you
how you've beautified my world!
reference to the song
the person depicted
is quite vain,
she worsens when she's
needed to be best
that what is shared is to
be known to the world
listen the strings sound like
crickets....nearer and nearer
they come closer
ranging in pitch, there sounds
arranged to distort the true happenings.
Is he that lovest, the only one in
the woman's life, or is she
deceitful and uncaring
only thinking of her selfish needs,
only to be found and then cornered
that she might regroup her thoughts
and have revenge upon those
who wished not to be actors upon her stage.
might the symbols of punctuation divide
the thoughts those who usest them correctly might gain proper meaning of her words of deceit
she is the whore of devilish doings
a rash upon society
she lacks focus and meaning
and is only tossed about from person to person
because those who use her allow's such to take place
her food is garbage
and her words are trash
she lingers in the indefinite
only to ask
might samples for lovers
be tasted by everyone
than doest thou seek refuge
and speak in thy foulest tongue
stand before me
and allow me to boo
that you are an actress
your words are scripted to
with guitars I hearest you
than only to believe
to fantasize about endeavors
stories people wish to believe
that fictions are you refuge
and thoughts are weighted by doubt
you speak only to those who
don't know you
until they find out what you're about
you speak against those things
that are traditions to most of us
you want what you need
and act it should come from us
but than again you are his lover
might this be said of him to
that you neither can or do it
from your honesty
and what than becomes of you
words spoken of the lover of the oboist, she skipped the first notes in her solo, the songstress spoke these words commenting of the reviews, those in the press saw this as a slap in the face of music.
—Sub Iure Cordis—
If I must choose a furred estate,
I’d be a lion—composed, aware;
Who lingers with deliberate weight,
As though the world conspired the air.
My mane demarcates tempered space,
No vagrant touch, no errant near;
Love sole may consecrate that grace,
And sanction who may venture here.
Yet you—approach; I know your art,
I might concede a tempered view:
A velvet nudge, a yielded heart—
A lion inclines where hearts are true.
For others—pause, observe, depart;
No casual claim, no passing due.
I husband distance into art,
And share my kingdom with a few.
At times I range where shadows lean,
As though I ward some veiled throne;
I watch, unseen yet half-foreseen—
A sovereign most when left alone.
But should you bring no gift, no plea,
No hurried hand, no grand display—
You might, by quiet chance, find me…
Asleep upon your lap. I stay.
Daylight will haunt you
Darkness will taunt you
When no person wants you
This is what it has come to
Where will you run to
I’m tired of being me
After your image I’m tired of seeing we
I’m a sinner yes
Bow your head before you begin this test
Tomorrow may carry a few features this day doesn’t
A non existence of me
Sorrow lingers in this reflection
I am limited to be
This hatred forever cemented in me
Maybe you love me
Maybe you have no respect
For this disease I have grown to be
I apologize officer
But regardless if I stopped or not
You were to pull me over
Makes mythology softer
Rewarded stress, given suspicion cops is hot
Wanting me to cool my shoulders
As is time could fool my age as my desire grows older
What does one do when his surroundings kill his want
When the way life is sounding doesn’t appeal to his need to flaunt
What do I do when the image I create starts it’s demise
What truth do I pursue when my fire finally decides to die
Form:
-------i never dreamed of being a poet - a life event made me one
a rose was a rose
before aching heart saw your
beauty & smile in it
in the garden - where roses once bloomed
a departed love - its beauty consumed
now sorrow lingers - like thorns that remain
painful reminders of love's sweet refrain
6/1/2023
a monoku haiku and 4 lines of rhyme poem contest
sponsored by- tania kitchin