Long Missing Poems
Long Missing Poems. Below are the most popular long Missing by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Missing poems by poem length and keyword.
Never met my Nana...
She died before my birth
Always wished to meet her,
And all that she was worth.
The most beautiful woman
I’ve ever viewed in snaps,
Undeniably strong and for so long
Through the worst mishaps
I believe she knew I’d be here
Though we had never met,
I see it in her eyes
The specialness she kept.
Stolen from her mother
Just like her mothers’ past,
Sadness overwhelms me
Photographed to last.
With love she had her children
Though Aboriginals were prey,
One day it came and with no shame…
Took her girls away.
Perhaps I would had known her
If her life not been that hard,
The strongest for the longest
Though heart remained so scarred.
Intelligent she was
With languages diverse,
Did not stop the evil acts
Stemmed from white mans’ curse.
With fire she fought for humankind
Against the cruel and mean,
Shedding tears from missing years
My Nana, My Blood, My Queen.
Hope is a collage of fragmented feelings
that fan the embers of today;
scattered amidst yesterday's ashes.
Stoking the sputtering flames of tomorrow;
egos and pride parade brazenly
upon dreams of love;
drawing the heart's attention
to unfulfilled fantasies of youth.
Betrayal is a bitter pill to swallow:
so you try washing it down with tears.
But your broken heart draws painful emotions
from the wounds of memory;
like a poultice.
And so, you don one of your many masks,
stored upon life's ethereal shelf;
and smile, as your world falls apart, piece by piece.
Yet, there can be no greater pain
than when the dagger of rejection pierces your heart.
For you have failed to find
what you've been looking for all your life;
the missing half of your soul.
But hope won't let you stop searching;
for somewhere out there
your soulmate is looking for you.
They were accounted for,
officially dead at least,
but the sickening fact was
that large numbers of the dead
had gone missing.
Occasionally, still pinging cellphones
were found in Hades, Purgatory, and
other Bardo states.
Olympus was drunkenly silent,
as were almost all of the seven heavens.
In nirvana,
the footwear of some of the deceased,
had been left in a discarded pile.
The missing had presumably
transported themselves
to some less boneheaded ideas
of the afterlife.
Eventually, God gave up looking.
The missing dead never returned,
having found their own way
out of all that craziness.
it gone, dissolved into thin air?
No, yet it falls short,
merely needed, quietly required.
Is it far beyond reach?
It is lost.
Uprooted, dislodged, cast aside,
vanished into the void, strayed far from home.
Scarcely present, desperately needed,
discarded to the winds.
Set down upon feet that are not its own,
abandoned entirely, left behind to wither.
Curled small, diminished by scarcity,
verging on non-existence,
softened by fragility and weakness.
Absent without leave,
lost along a twisted path,
pushed to the rear, left to trail behind,
taken outside and abandoned to the dark.
Absence upon absence—it is not here,
nowhere to be found beneath the skies,
unmarked in the records, unwritten in the log.
Yet once considered, once weighed as enough,
truly sufficient,
measured and perfectly complete.
It is found—it is met—
right here in this very space.
Yet he is gone, she is gone.
The waters have washed through; what was, has departed,
yearning for home, longing for where it belongs.
Never to return, never again,
borne away by shift, surrendered to abandonment,
forgotten and ignored.
One who never knew the path of learning,
no traveler on this road.
Through the folds of silence, deep into the serene night,
I wait in the melancholic shadow of my thoughts,
For the rhapsody to wrap me in its delicate wings,
To lead me into mysterious, starry worlds.
If I write on the pages of dreams with ink of the moon,
Long verses stretch like wide rivers,
Lost through landscapes beaten by wind and deep,
Facing the temptations hidden in the shadows of the dark night.
Through the moist and silent forests, where shadows collide,
I utter elongated words, searching for meaning,
To unveil the hidden mysteries of my soul,
To find truths between flames and saltwater.
With gazes lost in the gold of nostalgia and yearning,
I float in the veils of memories carried by swelling winds,
In search of answers drowned in pained rains,
In search of healing caress, a celestial redemption.
Through the labyrinths of my mind, the metaphors dance,
On harp strings, to the heart, words sing, ascending,
With turbulent verses, pierced by stellar light,
I surpass the boundaries of time and the cry of a deep pain.
Thus the melancholic mystic opens its gates within me,
Inspired by the sighs of the earth and the whispers of the stars,
I let thoughts fly and intertwine,
To capture the essence and beauty of the unseen and barely touched.
So, with verses outstretched and mysterious,
I try to touch the sky and wrap the world in my enchantment,
Through songs of sadness and melancholy,
To lose myself in the eternity of a fleeting and profound dream.
“Never spend your time in anticipation of a future, procrastinating and thinking that we have so much of time ahead and many more opportunities on our way. But nothing is certain, only the present time and chances. They are in our hold and are ours. Make the best use of them.” ~ By Poet
With the night quickly passing by,
My soul breaks into blossoms of joy.
When the sun begins his solemn race,
In my ears fall the birds’ hymns of praise.
As the wind passes tousling my hair,
With soft whisperings in my ear,
I catch the strains of a Heavenly band,
And feel the presence of a loving friend.
Glancing on the gorgeous buds of May,
Swaying in breeze that make me gay,
I lose myself in the glory of creation,
And fold my hands in deep veneration.
When I hear the cuckoo pouring in shower,
Her songs from far flung forest glade or bower,
A delightful rhythm fills my space,
And its fleeting cadence brightens up my face.
But suddenly I sense a creeping pain,
As I see a cripple staggering in strain,
At a distance, I see a weeping child,
Abandoned by its mother behind a thicket wild.
Around me I see the homeless and the frail,
Wandering aimless, tossed by life’s violent gale.
Thus I see life with grim challenges of trials and strife,
Where misfortune, distress and betrayal, so very rife.
At times I feel my heart missing a beat,
And fear the sweep of sand under my feet.
This Earth often turns a blistering desert,
But sure with shady oases, strewn apart.
This is the irrefutable truth, for sure,
That life can at once be sweet and sour.
So, enjoy life when it is within our scope and scheme.
Squeeze every happy moment. Carpe Diem!
Contest: The Silent Kiss
Sponsor: Constance La France
Date written: 23rd August, 2025
Placement: Second
"In the silence of the night, a kiss remained still in the depth of dreams." — By Poet
•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••
In that still night when silence spoke volumes,
I longed for your soft touch to warm the cold air.
But even your shadow lay silent on the bed,
while snow kept drifting as quiet as a mouse.
The cold slipped through the pores of my woolly blanket,
my lips moved to the song by restless crickets.
Not even the hot cup of coffee I brewed
could chase away how cold missing love can feel.
Sleep at last was kind enough to find my eyes,
and I dreamed of you holding tight my hands.
You pressed your familiar kiss upon my cheek,
yet it fell too silent for my soul to notice.
Again and again you kissed my trembling lips,
until you stilled their restless, shaking dance.
And the darkened room grew deeper in its silence.
But morning came too swiftly for the sun
to let your quiet kiss still guard my sleep.
It fled like a thief who scaled my dream,
leaving me to wake with empty longing.
Speak to the primrose,
Of this girl,
This princess
Haunting your thoughts
Without my permission,
Speak to the primrose,
From this satin wine
This nectar that flows
In your glass,
Without my permission,
Talk with the primrose
You can’t live
Without thinking of them
They never lied to you,
You know it today.
Parles en à la primevère,
De cette fille,
Cette princesse
Qui hante tes pensées
Sans ta permission,
Parles en à la primevère,
De ce vin satiné
Ce nectar qui coule
Dans ton verre,
Sans ta permission,
Parles en à la primevère
Tu ne peux vivre
Sans penser à eux,
Ils ne t’ont jamais menti,
Tu le sais aujourd’hui.
his daughter is smiling
this bedouin full of trust
but she is so beguiling
and bed her I must
"fair lady, enchantment I see
would you care to dance"
"kind sir, you honour me
I am grateful for a chance"
Can we love forever
and forget never
she moves with such grace
matching his swing and sway
and as they embrace
they merge into a ballet
she agrees to retire
to passions of the night
fulfilling his desire
before he drifts into twilight
Can we love forever
and forget never
Peer awakes to thoughts of bliss
he moves to caress
but no one there to kiss
looking around just emptiness
outside there is nothing
all possessions gone
even missing his gold ring
just clothes he has on
A love forever
is now never
so abandoned he learns
it is often the way
to take what one yearns
there may be a price to pay
(inspired by Peer Gynt ballet "Anitra's Dance")
Atop each other, these books rest.
For years tried being into only one interest.
Then I began remembering memories I like the best.
Slowly losing my personas I acted as in jest.
On the edge of the cliff of indifference.
Maybe even if I willingly tossed myself over the fence,
I would still have an internalized panic so tense.
But this is all just in my head, no offence.
Higher love comes with higher prices.
Such as leaving behind prejudices and vices.
Sometimes though, we must give into what most entices.
Sometimes I wish I remained as one of your choices.
Still, our fated moments weighed the most on my mind.
You're one of the few I still adore, I find.
I hope through all those years I was just as kind
As all of the times (for me) your soul shined.