Long Other woman Poems
Long Other woman Poems. Below are the most popular long Other woman by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Other woman poems by poem length and keyword.
She was always meek and mild
Mannered… like a smile
Filling up the room with pleasure
Gentle faith and quiet joy
Inspiring hearts to listen to the One
Who speaks in the stillness
And lights up the entire heart
With beauty so alive
It pours hope through the soul
Silences the busyness
Colors the air in hues of brilliance
She whispered to the mind
Who echoed her delight
In creativity and revelation
Music in notes of appreciation
Kindness falls from her pores
As she faces the weary
Thoughts of despair, in prayer
For the grace to face
Every moment of bleakness
With mercy and thanksgiving
She calms the stormy emotions
Tones of warmth on the surface
Of cool, clear thoughts
A wandering imagination, expectations
Living amid the stardust hopes
Enchanting passions
With knees bent to pray
Leaving darkness and dread
Falling in the shadows
Penetrating the intimate rays
Of laughing sunshine
She delights in the truth
Welcomes the music of courage
Strengthening the composure
Of the heart who knows her
Sees her goodness, her godliness
Beauty mesmerizing, bright
Desires playing with the edges
With a caress, embracing
The details of her love, her praise
Her abundant, believing, faith
She is the hint of splendor
Amid the dead leaves in Autumn
Falling gracefully, lightly
Over a bed of wildflowers in vibrant
Rich blushes of lilac and rose
Healing hearts with tangerine dreams
And crimson ideas, themes
Born on the moments of Spring
Lifting away the dry, arid sarcasm
Of a Summer drought, the way
Some other woman might weep
When the Fall gives way to white peaks
Her heart and soul make me know
Love like this is beyond words
It is light and laughter and living
It is grace and glory and giving
It is the answer to a solemn prayer
It lifts the melancholy whispers
Of glossy tears, fears that come
From the heart who listens to worry
And never knows the certainty
God is there forever, eternally
Giving His love to those who know
He is the One we’re living for!
We are trying to one up each other as usual – another story teller and I.
Our stories are getting wilder, less plausible, and we are laughing.
Suddenly I remember my pal Gertrude’s story.
I am pretty sure it was a lie, but it made a terrific story.
Gert was married to a man who was a rounder.
He started going out on Saturday nights, all slicked up and handsome.
He did not take her.
Refused actually.
About six months later her friends said he was getting married.
They had been invited to his wedding – next Saturday.
On Saturday he dressed especially nice with a boutonniere.
Gert said “You look good enough to get married.”
She said he did not even blink.
He did get married to the other woman, illegally.
I have no idea if the other woman knew he was already married or not.
Let’s see you top this story, I thought
There was silence.
Then we both burst out laughing.
I fear that I have become incredibly dull: a knife that has only learned to cut carrots, a pen that does not get replaced, only its ink replenished, a piece of paper balled up and thrown away, a word only repeated to deaf ears that would rather not acknowledge its sanctity. I have become a husk of a person. I have become an empty vessel of human emotion. This is what becomes of a person when all they have to turn to to feed their mind is a screen flashing images, showing people how to react, an ongoing assortment of empty media. I wish to spend my days in the bosom of the Earth, admiring all she has to offer. I wish to swim in her lakes, sit on her shores, blow her dandelions, feel her grass beneath my body and fingertips, feel her rain on my face, and breathe in burning humidity from her everleasting body. I wish my life could be spent in the trees of her soul. If life didn’t ask so much of our labor, I would be in the Earth's core rummaging around for the parts we cannot see in the 9-5 workdays. Unfortunately, though, in this economy, I cannot spend my life as a writer or focus on painting my way through the world, spending every waking moment trying to express every part of my being, so subsequently, I will spend my days as a working man. I will become “The other woman” of my own life, constantly trying to achieve what looks like everything I want to become. Taking on the persona of the woman who has it.
If I were a boy, even just in a dream.
I'll give my girl flowers everyday.
I'd let her know how much she's loved
and assure no tears fall from her eyes.
If I were a boy one day I wake up,
I'll kiss her eyes 'til she drops.
I'll lay her down in a bed of roses.
I'll carry her 'til we reach the heaven's door.
If I were a boy even for an hour.
I'll tell her exactly who I am.
I will not cave in the shadow of my past.
I'll give her the happiness that lasts.
If I were a boy,
I'd keep the love on fire.
I'll respect my mom, sisters, and wife.
I'll be my kid's greatest model dad.
If I were a boy,
I would be a real man.
Who knows exactly what makes a man,
who can't be moved by other woman.
The Other Woman in My Life
There are two women in my life now; I don’t know how it happened,
It was as though one day I awoke to notice her in my life
They are as different as night and day,
The first is mature with short brunette hair and
The second is sassy with long blonde locks
The first is not built like the second, more sturdy and rounder than
The second who is slim and slender with those shapely legs
Though I absolutely love the first
It is the second that makes my heart race
Each day the first makes sure that I eat my breakfast and fusses over me
The second seems to barely notice that I am alive
Every day the first woman tends to my every need from laundry to dinner
The second woman seems to take me for granted as though there were others like me.
The first greets and hugs me after a long hard day
The second simply walks away.
Some day when I am older than thirteen
I will have to tell Mom about that other teen
The one that takes my breath away and makes me want to stay after school
Is the one that I seem to have in every vivid dream
So sorry mom for my big rush
I’m in a hurry to work on my crush.
The unknown teenager
Andreas Simic©
I grieve the woman that I used to be
The one who did not know duplicity
Who thought that friends would have a constancy
I grieve the other woman that was me
I grieve the woman that I used to be
The one who looked at life with childlike glee
Whose heart of love made her a devotee
I grieve the other woman that was me
I grieve the woman that I used to be
Who thought her claim to fame was poetry
Who met each morning with expectancy
I grieve the other woman that was me
I grieve the woman that I used to be
Who thought that justice meant democracy
Who spoke for women's rights with fervancy
I grieve the other woman that was me
I grieve the woman that I used to be
Who saw a rosy hued reality
Who gave romantic love supremacy
I grieve the other woman that was me
I grieve the woman that I used to be
Who spoke her truth with proud audacity
Who trusted people's common decency
I grieve the other woman that was me
I grieve the woman that I used to be
Who would not tolerate complacency
Who thought a dream deferred was lunacy
I grieve the woman that I used to be
Alas, that other woman is not free
The world has chained her, crushed her vibrancy
Her words no longer carry potency
She's almost dead, that woman that was me.
Eileen Manassian
August 28, 2025
Do you ever think of us
And wonder what went wrong
Are you in anothers arms
But feel you don’t belong
Was I someone special
Am I ever on your mind
Am I in your memories still
Or was I left behind
We almost had it all
I thought we’d make it all the way
But someone else’s hold on you
Just wouldn’t let you stay
I was never meant to lose you but
You were never mine to keep
Memories and dreams of you
Invade me when I sleep
You were everything I wanted
But never mine to claim
Still I whisper in the dark
Still calling out your name
I was the other woman
Always waiting by the phone
The one who always had to hide
Who spent her nights alone
My time with you was not enough
But still I can’t forget
For you will always be the love
I never will regret
Sometimes I still cry
For wondering where we went so wrong
But still I have this dream of you and I
That keeps me strong
That we share one more precious day
The way we used to know
And when I hold you in my arms
I’ll never let you go
And if this never happens
If my dream does not come true
These words I’ve never spoken
I now want to say to you
You’ll always be the one thing in my life
That was so real
I loved you then, I love you now
And I know I always will.
By Raina Hutchins
To the other woman,
I am not mad at you.
What you see in him now,
is what he shows me yesteryear,
only one of us will weep upon his grave:
To the All-Woman Who ‘Loses’ Her Mate
When love unravels, and betrayal stings, The all-woman weeps, her heart’s fragile wings. Yet hidden within this tempest of pain, A metamorphosis awaits, a higher gain.
For grief and loss, like chisels, refined, Her mating intelligence, a gift divine. She learns to read the subtle cues that lie, In future mates, revealing truth from the sly.
And so, she emerges, battle-scarred but wise, No longer blinded by love’s sweet disguise. Her heart, a compass, guides her through the storm, detecting low mate value, keeping her warm.
But what of the other woman, entwined? She dances with deception, love’s twisted bind. Her prize, a man who once betrayed with ease, A history of infidelity, a heart ill at ease.
As days pass, the all-woman stands tall, her dress discarded, memories small. She knows her worth, her happiness her own, No charity case, no borrowed throne.
And when malice whispers, its venomous hiss, she invokes Hanlon’s razor, dismissing the abyss: “Never attribute to malice,” she wisely imparts, “That which is adequately explained by stupidity’s arts.”
Human behavior, shaped by traits unseen, A dance of folly, wisdom, and what might have been. To the other woman, no anger, no strife, Just a silent knowing—one weeps upon life’s knife.
Dylan Carston was a well-off young man,
thanks to a large and health trust fund,
his father was a true Wall Street ace
and had been quite generous to his sons.
Dylan had set himself up in Miami
after years spent getting his MBA,
he did consulting four days every week,
the other three he did like to play.
He’d partied with friends at all the bars,
and had his share of hot one-night stands,
not yet had he thought of a wife and kids,
he was enjoying the life of a young man.
One Saturday as he walked down the beach
to get exercise and breath the sea air,
he stumbled upon a frantic woman
calling for him to go over there.
As he drew near he saw down in the sand
a young woman who’s face had gone blue,
he could see no lifeguard near where they were,
but fortunately he knew what to do.
He found no pulse when he listened close,
and placed two hands high on her left breast,
with hard compression he began CPR,
pumping furiously at her chest.
Every so often he placed his mouth on hers
and forced oxygen deep into her lungs,
the other woman ran off to find more help
while Dylan continued the rhythmic pump.
Finally after three desperate minutes
a gurgled rasp echoed up from her throat,
life returned to her, the blue fading out,
though her eyes still knew not where to go.
Moments later he heard the rush of feat,
the lifeguard and the woman had returned,
Dylan gestured to where the girl lay,
“I brought her back, now I think it’s your turn.”
The lifeguard thanked him for taking action,
then knelt down slowly at the victim’s side,
ambulances came, reports were fill out,
when Dylan left three hours had gone by.
He felt good about saving the woman’s life,
it was a moment he would not forget,
congratulations came in, on top of that
the lifeguards sent him a certificate.
Three weeks went by and Dylan returned to
the safe routines of the everyday world,
and bit by bit his thoughts turned away
from the near death of that helpless girl.
So it was with a great deal of surprise
when a process server told him these words:
“Dylan Carston, you’re being sued for assault,
you can consider yourself dully served.”
Dylan’s mind whirled at the accusation,
he had no idea how this could be true?
Had some ex regretted their time and cried ‘rape,’
were they evil enough to go down that route?
CONCLUDES IN PART II.
SHE SPOKE OF HER LOVERS WIFE
SHE IN OPPOSITION TO HER
THOUGHT
OF ONLY HERSELF
THAT SHE HAD COAXED HIM FROM HER AND ALL
BEFORE HER WAS HERS.
COMPLETE BY BEING PREGANT,
SHE SOUGHT GAINS.
SUCH MATERAIL WEALTH MIGHT
MAKE HIM CHOOSE BETWEEN
HIS CURRENT WIFE, AND WHAT HE'S
MADE OF THE TOGETHERNESS
WITH THE OTHER WOMAN.
SOME HAVE SAID HIS WORDS
LEADS THEM TO BELEIVE
THAT HE NEVER INTENDED TO STRY.
HE ONLY WISHED HIS WIFE
WOULD HAVE STOPPED ANWSERING HIM
AND WOULD HAVE STOPPED FUSSING TO COMPLETE HER
RIGHTOUS POSSITION OF BEING.
JUST IF SHE'D LISTEN TO HIM, TO UNDERSTAND
AND ALLOWED HIM TO LOVE HER
WITH ALL THE CAPIBLITIES OF HIS EVER CHANGING NEED.