Long Love story Poems
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They met when rain blurred the city, sharing one umbrella.
A quiet gaze, a shared smile, a conversation that felt like home.
He held her book; she held his attention.
Their hands brushed—a spark, a moment, a pause.
Yet, a train arrived, loud and demanding.
He left for the west; she was anchored in the east.
They exchanged numbers that had held hope,
Yet one got lost from a large, overused handbag,
While the other found its way to the floor of a well-travelled train.
Most never notice how moments flicker throughout time,
And words that never dared to cross the threshold of “just friends.”
Years later, they passed on opposite sides of a street.
Her eyes held a flicker of what-if; his held a quiet, lingering sigh.
The rain stopped, but the moment never came back.
A love story, perfect and untouched,
With the closed umbrella,
Written only in the dust of the missed opportunity.
Poem Notes:
A poem of mourning written to honor Keats, 200 years after his letters. It blends grief, love, and history with elevated language
Header Note:
Contest Name: 1488 Poetry Contest
Sponsor Name: Brian Strand
Date of Submission :July 14,2026
The Cenotaph of Ink
In the pallid hush of mid-Autumn,
when fog descended like a shroud upon the window
and rain traced its elegy against the glass,
Keats wrote at midnight by the dim oil lamp.
Next door, Fanny lay in slumber,
her soul unilluminated.
A brick wall between their houses,
an ocean between their lives.
With iron gall ink that endured for two centuries
upon laid cotton paper,
he set down the words that would outlive empires:
"Love is my religion — I could die for that."
Two hundred years hence, I unseal the letter,
and my heart splinters to the very marrow.
My countenance dissolves into an ocean
as I read the line: _"I have nothing else to think but you."_
And I hear him, across the abyss of time,
as though he smiled and said:
_"My pen was weaker than my fever, but stronger than death."_
I regard my desk —
a pen filled with ink,
gampi paper spread upon the wood.
All of it seems profane
before a love that has defied oblivion.
Thus I shattered my pen
to chronicle his story.
He departed London.
He perished ere he could behold her once more.
He wrote in love, in grief, in anguish, and in desolation.
Yet the letters remain.
The fog is still on the window.
The lamp is still burning at midnight.
And 200 years later,
his letter still echoes:
*LOVE IS STRONGER THAN DEATH*
Marked well with awesome affectionate care
Family love makes me smile with thanks' bliss
Designed by the Lord for us all to share
Exposing joy, each member should not miss.
Family love makes me smile with thanks' bliss
Along fervent heart exuded by glad face
Exposing joy, each member should not miss
While in the pink of health, beaming with grace.
Along fervent heart exuded by glad face
Golden rings radiate covenant ties
While in the pink of health, beaming with grace
Mom and Dad hold hands; and we do likewise.
Golden rings radiate covenant ties
Yellow bells show anniversary-glow
Mom and Dad hold hands; and we do likewise
Since we their children --- their love story, know.
Yellow bells show anniversary-glow
With sweet peace from family paradise
Since we their children ---their love story, know
Parents’ partnership so true, sans guise.
With sweet peace from family paradise
Home’s warmth oozes midst compassion wonders
Parents’ partnership so true, sans guise
Makes me smile indeed amidst pain's blunders.
Home’s warmth oozes midst compassion wonders
Designed by the Lord* for us all to share
Makes me smile indeed amidst pain's blunders
Marked well with awesome affectionate care.
*Psalms 127:1 Except the LORD build the house, they labour in vain that build it: except the LORD keep the city, the watchman waketh but in vain.
October 24, 2024
Edited on June 21, 2025
1st place, "What Makes Me Smile 2" Poetry Writing Contest
Sponsored by Karen Jones; judged on 6/29/2025
You all must read Sara Kendrick’s poem the “Chicken” before reading this one!!!!
Thanks Sara for giving me such a great idea!!!!!
Broadways.... "Chicken Play"
The stage was dimly lit
For the opening of this play
The crowd was clucking in anticipation
They had no idea
A love story
A drama
A play of philosophy
The writer used a feather quill
Was this not a hint?
The main actress, was a real bird she was
She strutted and strolled
The audience was captivated
Her allure was on display
Her beauty hid she was heartless hen
Out jumped the Kernel Saunders!!!!
Sword in one hand
13 secret spices in the other
Well, this birds suitors ran to her defense
To no avail at all
These buccaneers would end up in a bucket
I do not lie
It included the fries
Sadly parts where tosses to and fro
Necks and wings and breasts were sliced
It sure was not a pretty sight
A civil war this was not
The dame was slaughtered on a southern shore
Let this me a lesson to you all you gizards
While the chickens are away
It’s for sure
This silly poet will play!!
What cooperates internal resonance
and external resilience?
Political trust
and economic acts
of love?
Firmness of trust
and love's cooperative force?
Why do we settle for ambiguously competing energies
when the democratic trust we seek together
might be more robustly loved
as cooperative inter-religious synergy?
When did specialized researchers
settle for dissociated complexity
as our paradigmatic road toward comprehension
of our anthropologically wealthy selves?
out and in
of and for
Earth's ecologically healthy
organically loving
polyculturally robust
trust environment?
We both want and need better internal cooperative views
of recombining regenesis,
cognitive transliterations for/of intuitive transmutations
Not with freedom to become any dis-ecological
irreligious manscape at all
Not with Anthropocene nationalistic landscapes
of overpopulated rabidity
addicted to dominating anthropocentric competitions
Not with monotheistically justified insurrections
against panentheistic peace
Not desecrating nationalistic cancers
overpowering otherwise cooperatively designing organic functions
All reconnecting within Earth's multiculturing
polypathic love story
of metamorphic satyagraha
Trusting Lovelock's Gaia Hypothesis
reaffirming deeply religious pronoia truths
of forcefully comprehensive
democratically inclusive
economic investment in trust
empowering AnthroMind/EarthBody
cobinary co-arising love.
Not anthropocentrically exclusive
economically infested win/lose
distrust disempowering love's resistance
to rabidly paranoid unease.
Not all that organically complex
as heard and seen and smelled and tasted from inside
life's therapeutic opportunities for feeling health
and ecological trust
we can, together,
discontinue kleptocratic crimes
against Earth's wealthy satyagraha climate
ReLigiously recombining internal
0-soul trusting resonance
and external
1-zone Earth-loving resilience.
Must be living in a fairy tale world
Where stories all have a happy ending
My life is blessed with such wonderful friends
A charming love story unending
Why have I been chosen and been so blessed
Perhaps I shouldn't really question it
Just enjoy it and absorb it all with a smile
And return it, every wee bit of it
Never considered myself a Prince Charming
Nor a lovely Fairy Princess either
More likely I could be a Super Hero type
Streaking through the sky, what a flyer
Now enough about me, tell me about youse
Do you people have any special talents
Balancing a beach ball on the tip of your nose
While naming all of the planets
Must be living in a fairy tale world
Where stories all have a happy ending
My life is blessed with such wonderful friends
A charming love story unending
"Except the Lord build the house, they labour in vain that build it." Psalm 127:1 of the King James Bible
Behold me…
marked with awesome affectionate hues
exuding family love
radiating bliss of eternal security bonding
triumphantly prevailing midst smiles.
Recollect with me…
while exposing joy of home
along grateful heart of glowing faces
praise-filled, beaming with grace
bestowed by the Lord!
Be glued to me…
never blinking your eyes,
yet now welled with tears
as you are gripped with Mom and Dad’s love
transporting your very being toward siblings’ milestones.
Reminisce with me…
grand celebration of blood-ties reunion along prayer fellowship
as your Dad and Mom steadfastly hold hands
and you view them doing so in heaven
with their inspiring love story, upheld by faith.
Get nostalgic through me…
recalling sweet peace in your paradise
with hearts warmed midst compassion wonders
seeing your parents’ partnership of caring scene
creating legacy of kindness for your generation.
Now, treasure me --- more than a keepsake
as I reverberate your life history
chronicled with mementoes
never to be buried in oblivion
since I, your family picture reign in your heart.
February 8, 2025
2nd place, "Dusty Box of Memories" Poetry Writing Contest
Sponsored by Constance La France; judged on 2/12/2025
We go together, like red, white and blue
Colors who overcome stormy weather
We’re held together by God’s special glue
Bonding our spirits, our souls go together
I’ve heard it said that brilliant minds think alike
Well, me and you – we know our hearts are true
Without you beside me, my heart would go on strike
Unresponsive to the joys of each gentle breakthrough
We go together, like the faith that reassures
Binding our spirits with love that will always last
What’s yours is mine and what’s mine is yours
We’ll face the worst, sure to always holdfast
I’ve known you since I was just a child
Even then, we were friends through it all
I remember the first time that you smiled
When we shared feelings that would forever call
We go together, like the dew and the sunshine’s light
Never fearing the promise that keeps us united
Throughout all time, we’ll see each wrong made right
By the wonder of a love that our hearts ignited
I’ve never told you, but my heart is forever content
Because of you, I know the meaning of romantic
Without you beside me, I would know such torment
This amazing love sometimes makes me feel frantic
We go together, our hearts are tied by one bow
If you’re a bird, I’m a bird – I hope you know
Together we’re one and that is why I say “WOW”
You are my answer to the joy that is all aglow
Without you beside me, I would not know the way
Together we have something that will always stay
Love so precious, the stars and moon will surely say…
Fall on their story – write a tale that will never betray!
It was no cosmic coincidence that a persnickety intergalactic wise guy named Hub
with an arrogant swagger morphed into the center of a crowded fast-moving Harlem jazz club
on February 11th, 1933 at dusk, preplanned by an angelic being named Lub.
One jitterbugging dancer named Minx looked up for a second, when he arrived at the club.
But it did not make sense that someone could materialize out of nothing, right?
Minx looked away, but then briefly back, into intelligent eyes that were blue, smart, and bright.
He was a scamp, she knew it immediately, she felt she knew him, at the second sight.
A warning gong went off in his head. A spitfire, he tried to stay away with all of his might.
They danced in close proximity, trying to ignore each other, this earthling and man from space.
Her auburn hair was curly and lush, and seemed to say hello from every corner of this place.
Knowing he was in trouble, feeling she was a big taboo, he attempted to show his poker face.
Glowing emerald eyes held him captive, as he tried to think, and clear his fast-beating heart pace.
You have a mission, his head argued, but his heart was not willing to follow the two-hour-ago plan.
He is a dandy warned a voice inside Minx’s head. Try to act casual, so he will be willing to land.
She opened her eyes wide, smiled at her dancing partner, gave him a laugh, and prettily petted his hand.
She was in Hub’s arms for the next set, and all the ones after that too, and they barely noticed the band.
Hub’s voice was a growl, gnarly, all dangerous, one of those better-stay-away-from-me males.
He was dapper, and dashing, a remedy and soothing balm to every one of Minx’s ales.
Minx was the most glorious being Hub had ever seen, including all earthlings and Stratosphales.
They ended their evening of passion like nomads, sitting on one of those giant hay bales.
Hub was sucked back to his planet by an insistent space ship captain in the spring of 1934.
The lovers met nightly in their dreams and in the day time they remembered each other forevermore.
Minx gave birth to a beautiful baby boy, her last memento from Hub, on Tuesday October 24.
A token of my appreciation Mom, Lub said, as he blew a kiss, from his bird-side seat on heaven’s floor.
when beauty met the beast
she was a cutie, he was a beast
she thought that she would speak to him
and find out what made
the beast, a beast
as the beast looked at her
he wondered; what a feast
but the way she spoke to him
made gentleness and curiosity increased
he found her some what pleasant
and laid his aggression aside
for now he'd grown accustom
and hoped she would abide
as time past he looked at her
as he never did before
tender conversations
brought his knees to the floor
she'd become his weakness
his task forever more
he liked to hear her voice
and see her walking through the door
on holidays there were presents
on birthdays a feast
each special day that brought her presence
was a holy day to say the least
now i am wholly human
and i can tell you well
that jealousy fits us humans
and beast very well
one look at competition
can take us all to hell
we can never avoid perdition
when one other than God
we our souls sell
and from God comes the testing
old men and prophets tell
the beast asked God for patience
and God knows how to teach it well
the next time the beast see's beauty
there is a ring on her hand
he didn't care to mention it
but that was one thing he couldn't stand
worn down he ask her
what the ring meant on her hand
slowly she confided, it meant she'd
marry another man
the beast now was furious
he did not understand
that all these years confiding
he was suppose to be the man
what then would become of her
his conscious did demand
all the years he spent with her
were coming to an end
yet love had one more service
his heart would command
tell the maid he loved her
and ask her for her hand
let all the powers of wickedness
and goodness take their stand
upon this maids answer
i'll bravely take my chance