Long One sided Poems
Long One sided Poems. Below are the most popular long One sided by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long One sided poems by poem length and keyword.
love,
if indeed true,
isn't putting on pause
affection, approval, respect
until a condition,
or two, is met.
it isn't employing
control tactics
over anyone;
vote
with your feet
whenever handcuffed with
"or else"
cash in your chips
and walk away.
love isn't obligation
to keep someone content.
it isn't pressure
to be someone you're not,
to do anything you'd rather not do.
love,
if no strings are attached,
isn't being made
to feel pangs of guilt
for driving in your own lane,
it isn't being made
to feel indebted
to repay a favor done.
love
is not love if
it feels
one-sided,
looks
crooked.
Reciprocated.
Unrequited love, the feeling I’ve felt every time I fall for an individual. It’s a feeling that stays hidden at first but slowly becomes a reality, a reality that the love you are giving isn’t being reciprocated back to you . It’s like a one-sided echo in the halls of my heart,
a silent song sung only for myself,
because to love them is to build a castle on sand,
and to love them the way I do,
is to love someone who doesn't love you the same. To feel for someone who doesn’t feel for you.
To want to feel someone who only wants to graze your outer layer. You long for a touch of love over lust, their acknowledgment, clinging desperately to the smallest gestures, a fleeting smile, a shared glance. You dissect these moments, searching for a sign, a hint of reciprocation. Yet, you exhaust yourself trying to bridge the gap, to make them see, to make them feel what you do.. Until the day it appears to you that they simply just can’t. But still you stay with hope in your heart that one day they will see just how much you mean to them, that just one day they will love you just as much and even more than you do. You hope and you hope and you hope… You had imagined moments where their eyes would light up at the thought of you, where your presence would stir something deep within them. You had felt that spark, the connection you believed could grow. Yet here they are, effortlessly intertwined with someone else, sharing the kind of love that you craved for yourself—a love that feels as if it was meant to be so freely exchanged, so readily given, just not to you. Oh, how it burns to see them. To see them open up, to have their heart open. A door for them to easily fall in love. The love that you so desperately want, to see them reciprocate. To have them love someone else and as deeply as you'd hoped they'd love you. It's a constant reminder of what you crave, the love, and the need for acceptance that you can't get. At last, the painful truth sweeps over you like a cold wave: it wasn’t that they were unable to fall in love. It’s not that they lack the capacity for emotional connection; rather, it’s the stark reality that their heart, so full of warmth, simply doesn’t choose you
onetime-
I was just one child all alone
and I wrote one piece
a day of poetry
grandma said
take one day at a time
uniqueness singleness oneness
one place I loved
was the attic
I was the only one there
playing make-believe dreams
doing the one-step waltz with dolly
it was a one-sided conversation
and I said
dolly I for one disagree
the one person I want to marry
will come one sweet day
and it will be a unity of two
and then I would sing her a song
in a one long octave note monotonous
uniques
singleness
oneness
I liked to tell one line jokes for grandma in the kitchen
put on a one man show for mom and dad after supper
dad gave me a one dollar bill
for every poem I wrote
I still have the first one he said
be oneself
take one direction in life
and I grew up solitary
to write poems
each one is beautiful to me
I'll get a break one day
one never knows about tomorrows
I hold dear my belief in
uniqueness singleness oneness
then one sad day grandma passed away
I cried all alone in that attic
I'll see you again one day grandma
______________________
September 3, 2015
Poetry/Free Verse/One
Copyright Protected, ID 15-705-869-0
All Rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonym.
For the contest, One,
sponsor, Rob Carmack
Ninth Place
It hurts.
It really, really hurts.
You fall in love,
you're happy for a while,
you think it'll last..
Until it doesn't.
Until it ends.
In heartbreak.
In sadness.
In pain.
I thought I was over it.
I thought we could finally just be friends again.
I was wrong.
I still love him.
Not just as a friend.
It hurts.
He doesn't return those feelings anymore.
It hurts..so bad.
One-sided love.
Unreturned feelings.
It's all too much.
I can't handle it anymore.
I can't ignore it anymore.
I hate it.
I ate that I still have these feelings.
I hate that I still have this love,
that will never get returned again.
He makes me so happy and I can't let him go.
No matter how hard I try,
I've become too attached,
I've become too infatuated.
I can't ignore this unrequited love
as long as I remember the love
that was once returned with such adoration.
Loving someone
when they don't love you back
is a uniquely painful thing
Pouring your heart out
to an empty void
leaves a most terrible sting
And a one sided love affair
when I love you and you don't care
it brings me down into despair
and I'm sure you have better things to do
than to bother with my love for you
There's no one there
when I look in the mirror
it's as if I can see through your eyes
'Cause when you look at me
you're not seeing me either
but I guess that it's really no surprise
and I know one day I'll be wise
but until then I'll tell myself lies
This old heart is out of whack
like an echo that won't come back
a locomotive that slipped off the track
and I'm quite sure you've better things to do
than to tell me that you love me too
And I guess that'll just have to do
We have the best relationship! Condralena tells me.
John is a Christian man; we attend the same church.
We are soulmates; we have the perfect relationship.
If there was ever a man for me, it is John.
Past her head I watch another co-worker roll her eyes.
I am going to ask him to take me to my parents’ this weekend.
The co-worker sticks out a finger and rolls it around her ear.
We have been dating for six, no….seven years now.
We went on a camping trip once. It was terrific!
The other co-worker shakes her head and walks off.
What’s going on? I ask the disgusted co-worker.
She is talking about my cousin John she tells me.
He almost had to take out a restraining order to get her to leave him alone.
Unfortunately, he didn’t. He finally blocked her number from his phone.
Their perfect relationship is all one-sided.
Their camping trip was with a church group.
The guys in his tent kept asking him “what is wrong with her?”
She would get up during the night and try to get him to meet her outside the tent.
They made fun of it, and of her.
She heard them laughing and still did not get it.
Condralena came to us at that minute to ask for John’s new number.
Surgery waiting room clocks move very slowly.
Pages in the books people brought with them are read over and over again without the reader ever knowing what it is they read. Magazines are picked up and put down again without being opened. Windows are looked out of without the view outside ever being seen.
And, the clock hardly moves.
If fish could be described as pacing back and forth, that is what the angelfish in the oversized aquarium appear to be doing. People sit in one chair, get up, walk around and sit in another chair, as if that one will bring them better results. Bathrooms are entered and exited and the faces reflected in the mirrors within look more worried than the person looking at the reflection had hoped to see.
And, the clock has barely moved.
Hands that are seldom held are being held by friends and family. Hugs that are seldom shared are being freely distributed. Vending machines are being stared at for minutes at a time, but items are seldom purchased.
And, the clock remains the same.
Each new person that enters the room attracts every eyeball wondering if that person’s loved one is in better or worse shape than the one they are waiting on. Then, the eyes return to the page that has been read fifty times; the magazine that remains unopened; or the window that looks out to an unseen scene. Cell phones ring. Strangers learn the story of other strangers through one sided phone conversations.
And, the clock appears to have stalled.
As surgeons enter the room, everyone listens for their name to be called. You watch other families converse with the doctor, gather their belongings and relocate to other rooms with slow moving clocks.
Once you hear your name, your anxiety heightens and you learn the status of your loved one. You gather your belongings to sit vigil by your patient’s side to be there when they awake. Upon leaving the room, you glance one last time at the waiting room clock and notice it has skipped ahead seven hours.
You leave the few remaining anxious strangers behind and hope to never have to see that surgery waiting room clock ever again.
Maybe it scared him off
we are still dating I assume
he thinks I wanted marrage
a wedding and a honeymoon
it's Gals like you who makes it harder
for Gals like me to find a man
he goes out his way to love you
you gone and scare them away
get yourself another cowboy
lady this one is mine
I treat him like I wanna
beleive me he and are just fine
get a grip and stop playing
you like messing around
keeping things frustrating
acting like some silly clown
-------------------------------------
smiling from ear to ear
they just ah gaming
two Gal's ah fussing over him
got him ah grinning.
------------------------------------
Them one sided affairs
keeping fellas in supence
you like things uncertain
Drling it just don't make sence
Get your self another cowboy
Lady this one's mine
I can treat my man like I wanna
beleive he and I are just find
I really have this urge to tell you something
it probably isn't anything too deep
and though I sit and reminisce about our love life
this question in my brain won't let me sleep
Do you think you love me or don't you?
Have you even thought about our situation?
You excuse my doubts with undue concern
'cause they only tend to cause you complications.
I gotta bring myself to one realization
that you may not even like me anymore
and when I finally tell you what I am about to
any love you had for me will wander far
I still adore you love, though I can't find it
but somehow I still know that it's right here.
So please don't show your irritation for me
when I beg for your attention through my tears
I guess I could go on writing forever
but you have your life to live
and I have mine
I just wanted to stop and tell you
'thank you'
for the love I thought was both of ours through time
The first time I saw George,
I was a young girl and cupid shot his arrow in my heart-
His motorcycle was black
and silver and he was a Golden God.
My brothers introduced me and he touched my flowing hair-
saying beautiful . . .
I followed him around a lovesick puppy and he would just smile
at my adoring worship, oh his voice, his eyes . . .
daydreams, night dreams, fantasies of first kisses, marriage, kids.
But, oh life can be cruel . . . he was not only a motorcycle God,
but a Canadian soldier -(more fantasy dreams!)
and was leaving on a UN Peacekeeping Mission to Afghanistan.
I was heartbroken . . . even though our love was all one-sided
(he thought me a child).
(the drums of time rolled) I grew up,
a young woman- and when my eyes first saw Michael, I fell in
unconditional love, I actually hurt inside, his kisses exciting-
he was romantic, handsome, and I was intoxicated, euphoric,
oh, he was smooth talking
brooding and deep
could be funny too
this was REAL love, a love with true passion, desire, yearning returned . . .
I heard that George had been killed,
in Afghanistan-
I remember the day I heard, ( it was a bright sunny azure day)
my heart swelled in an ocean of tears,
I screamed
and
cried his name . . . (this object of my puppy love) . . .
I went to visit his grave and was lost
in a sea of headstones.
Hidden birds sang sweetly from drooping trees . . . and
flowers hung their heads in sorrow-
People assume that in Peacekeeping missions there are
no dead,
they are wrong . . . the graves do not lie.
And puppy love can leave a scar on the soul . . . and it did,
I keep George in a small corner of my heart-
and often the sweetness of childhood, dregs up this sorrow,
of his kind words to a lovesick girl . . . (his hand on
my
hair) . . . .
________________________
March 15, 2017
Free Verse/Forever Within My Heart
Copyright Protected, ID 884586
Puppy Love Vs Real Love Contest
Sponsor, Eve Roper
First Place