Long Lost Poems

Long Lost Poems. Below are the most popular long Lost by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Lost poems by poem length and keyword.


Premium Member I smile, deceiving time, but my bewitching heart weeps

I smile, deceiving time, but my bewitching heart weeps,
In the evenings when loneliness spreads its canvas with sparse stars.
To love you – means I wish you fields of poppies under the illuminated moon,
Means that your kindness blossoms in my speechless garden.
I love you – and this translates to my breeze no longer caressing your foundation,
Words have become white butterflies, meetings – willowy trees by the river,
No more food is needed for my melancholy,
Nor fuel for the giant clock of restlessness.
And on the path, where our steps were meant to drip the dawn of silk,
Now, spills only a froth of darkness and a murmur of pearls.
From the banks, old age, like a lighthouse in the fog, sends its silent signals,
And it’s time to walk towards oblivion, with peonies on shoulders, with stars caught in hair.
My love – means I want to filter out every mist, to only distill grace upon you.
How to pluck the memory, a vase adorned with night crystals in the soul?
How to leave in the cold your blue giving, bruised by wind, smeared by the storm?
How not to bear your burden in hands, a sacred altar of this earthly pilgrimage?
But whispers are lost in the echo of the wilderness – who will answer, my comfort?
Who will speak of what is possibility, what is a dream, in this realm-kingdom?
No one will sing in chorus for us, no one will illuminate the city of addresses,
Nobody will unravel the enigma – who will say love isn’t a struggle in the unseen?
We are lost in the story, where love does not wear a light cloak,
Nowhere is it written how to give up on love, how to remove entwined stars from the heart,
Nowhere is there a map, nor compass that shows the path to the simple,
And the knots of the heart, in this tangled labyrinth, not even a Merlin can undo,
Who has uttered, in the whisper of the century, that to love is like to fly without wings to beseech?
© Dan Enache  Create an image from this poem.


Premium Member Love's Shifting Time

I won't live here anymore
after we free fall apart
My heart drifts outside 
your slammed shut door
Time to end this ripe false start.

Let me rest in space
for life to grow more kind.
Let me fall with time for love 
to sing and sway sublime.

I loved our rich soft inside times,
moments stolen from starched out yesterdays,
living warm wet scent-divines
past future's stark-dark slickening crime.

Let me rest in space
for life to grow more kind.
Let me fall with time for love 
to sing and sway sublime.

I can't die here to your time
marching righteous over me.
You learned to curse my best rhyme
to cure my mediocrity.

I still might be some lover's grace
if I take this risk to die
enough to dawn slow time's new face,
replace this crying midnight sigh.

Let me rest in space
for life to grow more,
and not less, kind.
Let me fall in time for love 
to sing and sway
away from hate,
silent severing debate,
to not deep peak pleasure appreciate 
Earth's passionate sublime.
Form: Lyric

Premium Member My Bloody Valentine

Hey Valentine, where are you?

Are you hiding amid the peaks of a mountain
or in the depths of an ocean?
Are you in the sweltering heat of summer
Or in the torrential flood of the monsoon?
You are lost between winter’s chill
and the verdure of spring. 

You make me shiver and sweat in turn.

You are at once the soft touch of a feather
and the sting of a speeding arrow!

Love is now stagnant without flow
like the duck weed that float
over the greasy surface of still waters.
You are crushed between the petals
of a rose and its thorns.
You are thrown hither and tither, 
by fevered minds.

Oh, where are you?
You hide between darkness and dawn,
at the intersection of dreams and nightmares
where love and heartache copulate.

Where are you, Valentine?

Better you be in your hide out.
I don’t want to see your bloody face,
a n y m o r e…..

The Disparaging Look

You need correction, tired of your insurrection,
perhaps you missed out on decent distribution,
however, all is not lost, give you one more chance,
you'll know it's time when I give you a disparaging glance.

A disarming smile can make you run a mile,
make you pause, reflect within, take stock a while;
there's enough to deal with, harassment, sexual pests,
why is it that some men are obsessed with breasts?

The Mona Lisa destroyed everything you had to say,
there was no reply, digging for reprieve from yesterday;
agrreement would be astonishing instead of admonishing,
I'm hoping you'll realize that there's something missing.

'Let me take you, let me take you to the dance,'
you'll know it's time when I give you one more chance.
Form: Prose

Premium Member One More Time

One More Time

The decay of my spirit
Has left my bedroom in a foul odor
And I sit in my chair

Watching the outside world
A world full of happiness and delight
How could I fit in there

The shadows of my past
Continue to haunt my present
As I become lifeless

My heart rests on my desk
A dagger pierces the heart at the middle
But there is no flowing blood

To live without a heart
To thrive without a spirit
To exist without a soul

I have come to accept this
And this eternal punishment I've earned
I don't expect any pity

A picture is taped to my chest
It could be a woman or perhaps a demon
I will never truly know

This picture grieves me more
Than any dagger through my heart
I am haunted

And as I watch the world move on
I remain trapped in a past that doesn't exist
I can't see beyond the mist

To see people smiling on the outside
And to be lost on the inside empty and broken
I am a million miles away

To live without a heart
To thrive without a spirit
To exist without a soul

I watch the world outside
A world full of happiness and delight
I could never fit in there


The Traveler

I have felt the scorching sands
I have been to many lands
I have seen what wars have done
But have left somethings undone

I have lost a special one
And have even loved someone 
I have learned to pray and hope
But have never met the pope

I have traveled to the East
And have lived for years in Greece 
I’ve been to the Amazon
But never had a grandson

I have sailed the seven seas
I even learned Portuguese
I’ve even had a lover
Yes, I had a real lover

I have met a president
And have felt some discontent 
But have always been serene
Though I never met the queen

I have searched from sea to sea,
And have always been carefree
At the end I came to see
What I’ve searched for was in me
Form: Couplet

Premium Member The Creek

I long to hear the wandering creek
its gentle song as it bubbled past land.
in its whispers, we could hear it speak
words only children can understand
gentle music we now often seek.

Beside the creek, a magic meadow 
grass was so high it reached to our knees.
We ran and laughed hiding from shadows
midst four o'clocks and lost apple trees,
and the creek's soft, iridescent glow.

Like the creek, reaching end of its run,
Childhood vanished overnight, it seems
Could it be but a fairytale spun
when we ran happily chasing dreams
So long ago, when daydreams were young

October 25, 2022
Edited October 17, 2024
© Ann Peck  Create an image from this poem.

Premium Member Someday

The beguiling butterfly you are
to my enchanted eyes,
paint no tempting patina of touch 
on the flower I’ve bloomed for you.

As the leitmotif of your delusion is stripped
for a few tantalizing transient moments,
unprompted revelation unveils the heart,
creates the craving current of concealed fervor,
on which the flakes of my yearning float
in the seamless sea of your sight.
You don’t sense they change colors of desire
until you morph the eyes into passion prism.

As I discern my dormant instinct 
embrace the floral fascination of longing,
my sensuous soul makes it perceptible,
albeit an attracted entranced fly, 
I fly blind into your fire, turn to ashes.
In the whirlwind of the turning time,
sweeping away the dust of memory,
someday I’ll rise to fly in your sky.

______________

October 11, 2022
For A Brian Strand Premiere Choice Contest

Premium Member Hope, Not Yet Lost

I stand upon this aging wooden bridge
peering into depths of the swollen stream
a fingerling flowing to waters of the sea
grief is rhythmic like the beat of my heart
tears ebbing in rise with the morning tide
each breath escapes in a murmured sigh

Three months gone by since my love left
bereft am I since there's been no word
no news of his vessel, now long overdue
a great storm cast its eye on his ship's course
If prayers were diamonds I'd have great wealth
currency in which I could never take pleasure

In my worst nightmare he lies tangled in kelp
without help to free him he surely will drown
a torturous fate that nearly drives me insane
Here, on the bridge, amid my sighs and cries
I beg that somehow he finds his way home
escaping the wrath of an unmerciful sea

Day after day, when dawn has barely broken
I stand on the bridge, sealed bottle in my hand
inside is a note in which my sad heart entreats,
"Poseidon, please send my love back to me
before loneliness becomes the cause of my death." 
To the current my plea tossed. Hope, not yet lost



June 21, 2017
© Lin Lane  Create an image from this poem.

On the Sajek Valley

On the spike peak of the dark hill
there is no wall but the dim clouds
scream with the thunders; there is
no tears but the pale sky weeps 
with the ruby dusk whispering I'm

Stranded cottage on the Sajek valley
coconut water in the wine bottle on
the tattered table confined with the 
spider net and the kerosene lamp on
the falling way of dousing with my sigh

Crickets are busy with jazz sounds in 
the deep solitary bush; no hiss, hiss
but the snake wandering beside the 
window sill on the moonless ethereal
night where the benumbed veins reign

Lost I'm myself in the abyss lane of the
blind sky eyes where the lizard eyes are
the death angel and the dumb is burst
sounds of at hand death of brave sense,
where the thirst is quenched elixir of breath

No verse of beliefs, no holy verse came to
rescue the heartbeats, the gigantic teeth 
of the silhouette stung the nerves of the 
living dream and I'm carried by the sunny
bier where my awakens fired the nightmare


March 23, 2023
© Mahtab Bangalee

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