Long Romantic thoughts Poems
Long Romantic thoughts Poems. Below are the most popular long Romantic thoughts by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Romantic thoughts poems by poem length and keyword.
On Meeting You Most Beautiful Now
On meeting you most beautiful now with
adoring maiden kisses and loving thoughts
whilst deeply inhaling one warm breath
and a stout sip of the finest old grog auld
mountain dew breathing a precious pure.
Golden leaves sweetly float in a dancing
twirl with a shining inside vision so sweet
of us walking hand in hand on golden sands
as perfect waves unfold into a carpet of blue
to white as romantic thoughts signal our love.
Against the deepest walls warm of soft light
silent echoes whisper true as sweetly melting
emotions palpably touch our hearts beating as
one, whilst brewing kisses from peach-colored
clouds mesmerize us with their enchanted beauty.
Silver treasured thoughts of love and happiness
speak volumes to the beautiful dream vision of
a gem of dancing petal flowers and one red rose
that captivate my visions of you dancing in the
very depths of my dreams as I sleep blissfully.
On soft clouds in the bright azure sky above,
at times, I gaze continually skyward on days
when I think of you so bright and so beautiful
and see your lovely face etched in the cerulean
sky and feel the passion of your love and presence.
With the finest of texture and the scent of a most
sensual red rose, I watch as its petals gently land
now on the sweet dew ground and I thank Almighty
God above on meeting you most beautiful now as my
thoughts of love for you touch the depths of my soul.
The indelible nature of our true love and happiness
create certain visions of fire-storms of an unbridled
passion and pleasure that eternally speak to us both
of the sweet love and magical enchantment we share
as our hearts beat now as one in God’s grace forever.
Gary Bateman and Liam McDaid – A Collaborated Poem
Copyright © All Rights Reserved – November 13, 2014
(Quintain)
With His Six Shooter In Hand He Emptied Its Load
In a whiskey glazed stupor his horse he shot
Under blue-wailing moon his heart, a broken mess
And then his emotions tossed in their sad lot
Somewhere with lost hope, his failures he did confess
But as image appears, her beautiful face smiles
She, kind goddess that had stolen his lonely heart
Over and over, the argument -always starts
And then the swarms of excruciating deep pains
Fight to make it leave, his eyes look to the blue sky
Silently these words he says, "My Lord help me please"
Falling to dusty ground, he asks again the why
Did God allow that beautiful witch his heart seize
Then romantic thoughts flooded a confused brain
Her dear vision so enticed and refused to leave
It all was far too much, far too great a love-strain
Next how she had him, ready to again deceive!
But oh no, not again, his intellect then spoke
Do not let this dark, deceptive thing again hurt
Recall this truth, she had made his life a bad joke
Remember torture, the loss, her poison black spurts
And how she laughed as his tender heart she broke!
The cowboy then rose on up from the desert sand.
Swearing true, she and this are both accursed land!
Mounting his horse towards Tombstone onward he rode
Swearing, never let his wounded heart be "stoled"!
Then a broad smile so magically it appeared
Up the trail just head vision of her as he feared!
With his six shooter in hand, he emptied its load
And laughed out loud, as on
to Tombstone he rode!
Robert J. Lindley, Rhyme/Narrative
April 12th 1982
Note: Edit.. Nov 21st 1983
The young cowboy made it all the way to Tombstone
His young life was then about to meet pretty girl
She too was standing proudly there and all alone
Fate decreed it, they joined to give life a whirl!
"From deep within my heart
I always catch the scent
of my Beloved. How can I
help but follow that fragrance?" By Rumi
As I dashed about from store to store,
We passed in a flash on the sidewalk.
She wore no sign, saying she was kind.
The fragrancy was appealing, like your kind.
The fragrance arrested me as away she went.
I knew it wasn't you, "But wow, that scent!"
The perfume was stunning and head-turning.
Absolutely, an aromatic nose turner.
Although there was major action in the air;
I knew better than to stand there and stare.
Besides, she was not the main attraction.
No. I could not taste;
Nor could I touch.
But I boldly felt the presence of a lady.
I beheld what manner of a woman.
I clearly heard her soft steps.
And I certainly knew that
she reminded me of you.
I did not see her face,
but her fragrance left a trace.
I knew it wasn't you, but still
I wanted to inquire, to learn
of her brand. However, to her
I was a strange man, and I wasn't
sure that she would understand, and
besides, I was a bit afraid to speak to her.
As I turned and continued toward home,
I had pleasing romantic thoughts about you.
It was the sweet perfume of your CHARACTER
It was the fragrance of your SUPPORT.
It was the smell of your ENDURANCE.
It was the scent of your SMILE,
and the aroma of your TRUST.
071922PSCtest, Rhyme Rumi Quote Poetry Contest. Sponsored by: Sotto Poet. 3P
Disintegrating dreams
I find I can no longer stand
as this ground about me shakes with might.
Thunderous hooves of imaginary wild horses,
panting in heavy breaths, kicking dust before soiled eyes,
claiming to take down fences
of wire and stick, laying waste in sun dried foot prints
creating a mosaic of dream-like designs.
Spiraling uncontrolled as the artist fades like fall colors,
still trapping hopeless romantic thoughts
locked within reach and just out of sight.
Challenging the earth to steady the plates
suspended above me on thin shafts of deep desire,
spinning like clocks in an opposite direction
telling time it has no place here.
Finding that truth is the enemy, I pull the drapes knowing
doorways will caress thresholds that keep out the draft,
yet allow the sunlight to mimic the scattered shade cooling the needs
beneath a paper fortresses . . . and my heart sighs.
For this is life, in its starkest reality,
and what was pictured in youth lingers in the minds of the old.
Pasting cobwebs for effect and smiles not as genuine as they may seem,
days pass and with them opportunities fly like a crying dove
as morning light counts another moment away from this existence.
Why does it seem that endless possibilities end, forever wishes
drown at the bottom of the well amidst even older pennies,
patina claims the skin in the name of a love
found but not shared, carried upon shoulders,
as nothing else is left but to wait . . .
while my dreams no longer wait for me
The moon I was told is my uncle,
from days when I was in the cradle,
they showed me the moon to make me eat,
other distractions like birds that tweet.
So grew up to believe moon was male,
one day brighter another day pale,
I even drew moustache on his face,
and manly spectacles on his gaze.
Many stories told under his rays,
cuddling to granny in good old days,
how he would watch over us every night,
except nights when he was out of sight!
When in love we looked up to the Moon,
his waxing, waning kept us in tune,
he lit our hearts with romantic thoughts,
we loved his smile, mysterious spots.
Poets many have changed Moon’s sex at will,
to suit situations and their quill,
from Arabs to Greeks he, she or it,
my Uncle moon doesn’t care a bit!
He continues to glow, reflect Sun,
and he takes a bow when its all done,
generations have been and perished,
Moon will always be loved and cherished!
To confirm my beliefs, asked my friend,
clever school teacher from the street end,
He said I was right, to prove it soon,
he showed me picture of Ban ki-Moon!
Premier contest winner (6)
Written 6/Aug/2021
is the Moon male or female or both poetry contest
Chantelle Anne Cooke sponsored
9 syllables each line!
Comes another morning
I know how it’s going to be
Because of the person
In bed here next to me
She wakes with a smile
Stretches and yawn
And outside the sun shines
At the break of dawn
And the morning dew
Greets the brand new day
As the remains of the night
Has already fade away
For god has bless me
With the love of my life
This amazing person
Who is now my wife?
As long as there’s fishes in the ocean
And there are stars in the sky
as long as the river flows
And the eagle will fly
As long as the birds are singing
And the waves come to shore
As long as I am living
I will love you for ever more
She out in the garden now
Planting all her favorite jasmines
And she would sing and dance
When ever it starts to rain
Then she would hug me so tight
And look at me with her beautiful eyes
And I fall in love with her all over again
As the romantic thoughts in my mind arise
And her eyes are so beautiful
Like the gateway to paradise
And in her presents I am
Left completely hypnotize
The first day I saw her
And I know I had to be her friend
And when we fall love
I know with her I want my life to be spend
And once it was only a dream
For her to accept me in her life
And now every morning she’s awakes
Next to me my beautiful wife
bound by doubt, I stood there amidst the Bluebells
watching where she'd been but a moment sooner
dusk to come, her breath hanging like the shadows
she, thus departing
on my tongue, sweet words melted soft and tender
all those daring, romantic thoughts I'd gathered
passion dreams that longed for a voice, but silenced
with my reluctance
"please don't leave!", I begged of her proud affections
"you're the blushing flame that so warms my marrow!"
still, those sounds had not found my lips for voicing ...
heavy, that stillness
rife, those times that I'd worked hard to impress her
waiting, long, the chance of this evening saunter
there I stood, waist-deep in the meadow, darkened
mourning my chances
as her shape was swallowed by shrouded gloaming
rose the moon, perfecting its grand enchantments
I, then, choked on words meant for love's endeavor
now, sad ... unspoken.
Written April 22, 2019
Submitted on August 29, 2021
To the "Your Best Sapphic Stanza" Poetry Contest
William Kekaula, Judge & Sponsor
silhouetted against the vast farmland,
western Sun set put up a painter’s dream,
it lit the place up like house on the strand,
stillness of silence and the flowing stream!
inherited it from my great grand dad,
was history rolling on a grand scale,
antiques, tapestry, gothic arts it had,
handed from generations, not for sale.
on the mantle at the humming furnace,
a telephone of antique perfection,
bejewelled, stylish, decorated face,
the cable was old without connection.
one day at dinner under candle light,
we heard a stir in the far living room,
our old phone was ringing, wide eyes in fright,
we walked slowly to it, fear and gloom!
with trembling hands I picked the phone up
heard voices exchanging romantic thoughts,
wondered if it was a prank or set up,
but knew they were voices that time forgot!
the telephone now rings from time to time,
I pick up to hear lovers say their hearts,
whispers and sobs, from victims of some crime,
hate, jealousy that had torn them apart!
I now do not pick the phone up no more,
let it ring and ring for ever some nights,
they break my heart those two lovers of yore,
they both are long gone, but their pain still bites!
I should be writing lyrics I'd sing to you in a love song
like the nights when you were here with me to listen.
But everything between us is awry and terribly wrong.
You'll never see the tears in my eyes but they glisten.
No longer can I sleep in the bed we once shared
or look at the pillow where you rested your head.
From this suffering, I wish we'd both been spared
without wounds to be healed; without tears we shed.
I cannot write lines skewed with romantic thoughts,
of walks along a beach, or kisses in the moonlight.
In wakes of crashing waves are two broken hearts.
Memories visit me as shadows hovering every night.
I will never find a love poem written by your hand.
There is nothing we could ever do to make amends
for reasons why you don't walk beside me on the sand.
What if heartache I feel over losing you never ends ~
If that is to be, a daunting mantle will fall over me,
a cloak never lifted from my eyes in fear they rest
on you with someone else, for I could not bear to see
your hands lovingly fondling another woman's breasts.
bound by doubt, I stood there amidst the bluebells
watching where she'd been but a moment sooner
dusk to come, her breath hanging like the
shadows
she, thus departing
on my tongue, sweet words melted soft and
tender
all those daring, romantic thoughts I'd gathered
passion dreams that longed for a voice, but
silenced
with my reluctance
"please don't leave!", I begged of her proud
affections
"you're the blushing flame that so warms my
marrow!"
still, those sounds had not found my lips for
voicing ...
heavy, that stillness
rife, those times that I'd worked hard to impress
her
waiting, long, the chance of this evening saunter
there I stood, waist-deep in the meadow, darkened
mourning my chances
as her shape was swallowed by shrouded
gloaming
rose the moon, perfecting its grand enchantments
I, then, choked on words meant for love's
endeavor
now, sad ... unspoken.
Copyright © 2019 Gregory Richard Barden