Long Loss Poems
Long Loss Poems. Below are the most popular long Loss by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Loss poems by poem length and keyword.
The dust accumulated from a span
Of years that reaches well into the past,
In folders placed from back when it began;
Discrete events across a distance, vast.
Like vapors freed by comet's forward cast,
Receding, fading like a tail mundane.
Will aught of this trajectory remain?
Or pass by undetected, with no trace?
Or counting all as loss, seek better gain:
To know that You ordained this merry chase?
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(for the ‘Dizain’ poetry contest, on the subject of ‘Dust’
cleaning out my desk drawers after a career of work
Sponsored by Constance La France
Submitted 2/4/22)
To kindle flames for which the heart has yearned,
One sets out on a quest to find great love,
Each mountain climbed, no corner left unturned,
From deepest seas to endless skies above.
As sunlight pierces through a clouded sky,
True love awakens what was cold and still,
It finds its nest where deepest passions lie,
In spaces longing for true love to fill.
Yet in the strongest bonds, a fragile chance,
Should love be found then lost, one must accept,
A void to reach the depth of its expanse,
Is left within the space of love once kept.
To seek a love so deep, one risks its cost,
A price to match the weight of love, if lost.
Before my first heartbreak
Before I'd been done wrong
I was a happy man
Who loved heart and soul
But now I'm a shadow
Of the man I once was
It's like I've built up walls
It's like I've given up
Where has my heart gone
Why has my passion all died
Though I spread my wings
I can no longer fly
Who have I become
Oh how I miss that good man
I lost him so long ago
I wonder where I am
Cause the man that I gave her
Is so little of me
He's just pieces of the once was
This I believe
My happy's just contentment
My contentment's a lie
The degree of my sorrow
Is now something I hide
For somehow I lost me
In the blink of an eye
The man who I once was
The man who loved life
So I go on without him
I find peace through the strife
Hoping my wish is granted
Hoping I realize
That though he is gone
What remains to this day
Is for those pieces though fallen
To soon be reclaimed
Mother: Oh Raymond, Raymond, what's to become of you? :(
Raymond: I'll stay pure & give my life; Our Lady says it's true.
Jesus: Father Maximilian Kolbe, if you love Me... feed my sheep! :O
Priest: And I'll even share my soup, and my Auschwitz brothers-- keep.
Nazi: Prisoner number 16,670--- who are you?! :O
Fr. Kolbe: I am a Catholic priest! I have no family, too.
[Inspired by:
A Man for Others: Maximilian Kolbe --the Saint of Auschwitz-- in the Words of Those Who Knew Him book by Patricia Treece, + the M.I. movie
(not Mission Impossible, but the Militia of the Immaculata!)]
I’m flapping in the wind like a torn sail
The sea of life is rough from shore to shore
I am feeling tired, worn and oh, so frail
Losing things, I cannot find anymore
A broken heart bleeds across crimson skies
Where the sun shuts me down another day
A horizon far, where the sea gull cries
My soul searches waves for another way
Then, upon the dark waters a glimmer
As the full moon shines, a pathway for me
I follow the light of its pale shimmer
Transformation into a calming sea
Now I rest, under the clouds passing by
Feeling all the glow of a moonlit sky
Heidi Sands
8/22/18
Twenty-Twenty-Two
Adieu, adieu
Though you pass
Deepest alas
We see you through
With losses true
New Year
Twenty-Twenty-Three
Upon your heals
Replaces thee
We'll hold on tight
Sweet Memory,
Of those we lost;
A mounting cost
Time marches
Speedily.
We say adieu
Remembering you
And those we had
While you were new
Though old Time Square
Drops Apple there
We'll wipe our tears
For bygone years
And with the toll bell of
Midnight....
Another year rolls into
Sight
Adieu
Connie, Rico,
Now, Milton too,
The Soup lost
Much
In loss of you
~BJ~
In this life when the moments cross.
And bring my body to pass my successor.
In the silent flask, reflections on the glass,
Paint the dark shadows becoming clearer.
A revelation of time in my waking nights
Became a burden of my daily obsession.
With the fragility of the impure thoughts
The denial of love enraged with emotion.
In a whirlwind of changes on your mind.
I loved you as only love can be found once.
Although we knew that this love was kind
On volatile heart given this slender chance.
A dream that may last to the end of our being.
Was a reality, lost behind a distant screen.
Personalities are divided between everything.
We own and thought we could have been.
Our life-ending denied by the blatant proof.
Broken, with the awakening that is fading.
The rapid troop of an oath is taken in holy truth.
Assemble in the severity of feelings faltering.
He glances through the curtains as she leaves.
And he knew she was going with him instead.
Desperately he washes his soul of her but its for naught.
And he hangs each feeling on the line and the cool breeze.
She walks to the corner and gets into his car and flips her hair.
He always loved the way she flipped her hair and the body after a drink.
Her body would glisten with the sweat of his thrust and the bite on his shoulder.
The car pulls away and he watches the lights drive off with his heart and the bite.
The laundry machine moves like her and shudders and vibrates.
But she will return with food from the Chinaman.
Chinese food was how he knew.
She never ate Chinese food except afterwards.
The clothes lay fluttering in the night air as his heart dried.
And she came home with egg rolls and the feint smell of polo.
I find the one remaining photograph from my wedding:
everyone is still smiling, despite the way things turned out
(time can fade print, but the smiles remain fixed forever).
Somehow, that one picture survived;
the others had fallen victim to Mum's scissors,
long, long ago.
My dad is wearing his blazer and one of my ties;
he's looking healthy (just as I remember before the cancer...)
long, long ago.
My mum in a new suit, is much younger-looking, and well.
I wish I could step into the happy picture,
and keep my parents as they were then.
My wife and I are wearing our shining new rings -
long, long ago
they were sold and melted down for other newly-weds to wear.
I remember the deep love I felt for my wife then.
Mum asks what I'm looking at and she tears out part of the picture...
my ex wife is still smiling from the waste paper basket...
Date written 24th September
Writing Challenge 2, September 2019 - The Photograph
Sponsor, Wiishkobi Ode
I passed the elm at eventide,
Its arms were bare, its breath was wide,
And there beneath the twilight sky
I thought I saw a woman roam.
Her gown was thin as woven mist,
A memory the dark had kissed;
No rustle made, no shadow cast—
She moved as moonlight through the grass.
Do ghosts wear gowns like we once wore,
With hems that brush the oaken floor?
Do buttons cling and silks remain
When souls have slipped the cords of life?
Perhaps they wear what dreams devise—
Not stitched by hand, but born of skies.
A shawl of dusk, a veil of rain,
The hush of snow against the pane.
She turned to me but made no sound,
And yet my heart was loosely bound—
By what, I cannot quite define:
A lace of loss, a thread of time.
If ghosts wear clothes, they must be spun
From things undone, from lives begun.