Long Unrequited Poems
Long Unrequited Poems. Below are the most popular long Unrequited by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Unrequited poems by poem length and keyword.
Even the river forgot to flow when your pure feet entered its water.
The fish abandoned their dance until your prayer was complete,
and the river held its breath, honoured to cradle your devotion.
As you turned toward the temple,
the priest gently placed a tilak upon your forehead.
There you stood—
a beautiful soul, ankle-deep in the river,
beneath an amber sky,
your crimson scarf resting gently upon your head.
For a fleeting moment,
the world forgot to move.
...and so did I.
Your eyes carried a silence
no words could ever imitate,
darkened gently by the kajal
that only made them speak louder.
Your green lehenga swayed with the evening breeze,
while your crimson scarf guarded every prayer
that escaped your lips.
Then, before folding your hands,
you looked at me-
with the innocence only faith can wear.
In that single glance,
my heart whispered a wish
it knew the heavens might never grant.
I longed to call you mine...
yet we stood on opposite banks
of the same river. I wished I could become the bridge
the river never was,
so your prayers
and my promises
might finally meet.
Even though I've made mistakes,
There's nothing that I would change.
Because everything I've done,
Has led me to God.
If I change anything,
Would I ever be so close?
To hear your voice,
to be your host.
It's the most, beautiful thing.
And I have no words to describe,
the joy that you bring.
I've been a mess, for far too long.
I've built up stress, from a lot of trauma.
But I still find myself thinking of you God.
Holding on, I'm holding on.
To every word you've blessed me with.
Even though I've made mistakes,
There's nothing that I would change.
Because everything I've done,
Has led me to God.
Every step I've taken,
Led me to the day, that I sat and prayed.
Tears flowing from my cheeks,
Begging our creator to set me free.
Begging for my love to be safe.
Even without me in his life.
Nothing breaks a heart like unrequited love.
But what I didn't know at that time,
was the love you've shown me God.
You heard my voice,
crying out from the shadows.
I made a lot of noise,
and you listened to my problems.
Ever since then, you've been my light.
Even when it doesn't seem like it,
I'm trying my best to make you proud.
I just, I don't know how.
Even though I've made mistakes,
There's nothing that I would change.
Because everything I've done,
Has led me to God.
And I'll never go back to the way I was.
You've made me strong,
turned me into a fighter.
Something I'd been all along,
I just couldn't see it clearly.
You sent me angels,
you sent me friends.
Though it was only in my mind,
I know it wasn't pretend.
Don't leave me now,
I don't want this to end.
I'll figure everything out,
I just want you... to be my friend.
Please just be my friend.
"Trap—for the ones who mistake affection for devotion, and fall for voices spun from smoke. He never promised me forever. But still, I stayed… oblivious. Drunk on words, blind in the dark, begging the silence to lie"
Then his words—
they don’t help.
They wrap around me like silk
only to choke.
Ancora una volta.
Again.
Again, I fall
for the way he speaks
like I matter.
Like I’m wanted.
But he’s my ladra—
my thief.
My freaking damn heart
is gone,
and he walks
like he never held it.
He smiles,
and I forget the pain.
He speaks,
and I forget the truth.
He lingers in my mind
like a lullaby
sung by a blade.
And I—
God, I still listen.
I still want.
Even knowing
he won’t reach back.
I dream of hands that never held me,
of eyes that never stayed.
Still, I wait,
like longing can rewrite
what silence never said.
He doesn't want me—
that’s the truth.
Even when his voice
is the sweetest trap
I’ve ever begged
to die in.
If love is...
feeling unloved,
anxious and starved,
give my regards
Does the torment of love's hate
eliminate pain?
If love is trembling lips
and sultry eyes, upon them
everlasting cries,
Charcoal tears that pour
What answers are there
for these unwanted sores?
Binding spells of
the unforgiving way swells
She the accuser shames
with her bitter blame
Aging with, until the bitter end
Accusing of his unrequited love
Awaits for his apologies
with a scorn, torn in self-pity
Nothing gained, nothing learned
Yearn, yearn, yearn
Self-loathing is apparent
Possibly inherent
Therefore, never really knowing
love and its understanding
and had mistaken it
enamored in its--lustful cradle
When the soul still yearns,
The chaos in her heart burns,
lonely is desire
Everyone has a dark side but this silhouette stranger,
this one sided love haunts me, forever tattooing me on its heart
Forever hiding in the dark corners of my mind.
Close to me like the sticky sweetness of cotton candy
It wraps me around in its arms, and tells me that it is the only one who could stand the cramp corners of my mind
The mist of dew drops crowd in the corners of my eyes,
this stranger sends thoughts that makes the dew fall like the Niagara.
This silhouette stranger dips me in the dim light of the pantry kitchen,
reminding me that my insomnia is a walking time bomb on my physical mentality.
If I tell you that, my emotions are the many-casketed bodies that are now forgotten bones of loved ones.
Would you run?
When my anchor begins to break would you catch my fall.
Or watch as this stranger locks me in the solitary confines of my bed of emotions
that scream how
Worthless
Pathetic
Naïve
Disgusting
Unloved
Hopeless
Immature
Ungrateful
I have asked this silhouette stranger to abandon the hollow auditorium of my body
To give back what was once mine.
I have what I like to call an unrequited love relationship with my lover depression, this ever-changing silhouette stranger.
Depression holds me hostage inside its cage
but a ransom note will not be required here.
My depression tells me it’s the only one who can stand the cramp corners of my mind
This unwanted lover sticks close to me like the sticky sweetness of honey
This stranger loves me, in an unrelenting way
But...
At least I’m Loved.
Sonnet #1
A cloying scent this unrequited love
sad saccharine denial of its roots
harsh coo – the chortle of a fleeing dove
escaping from the nest of passion’s truths.
The fetid feel of limply touching hand
upon the fevered brow of stricken foe
erasing lovers footprints from the sand
believing that all tides must come and go.
Thus did the fever break, and I awake
alone upon the cold and sweat stained sheets
believing that all love is naught but fake
a masquerade of liar’s texts and tweets.
Has passion but succumbed to passion’s heat
or must all passions suffer such defeat?
11/5/2016
lines 3,4 and 13 have 10 syllables by my count
and 11 syllables by howmanysyllables.com count
Sonnet #2
And yet the heart of passion stilled will beat
upon the very walls that bid it flee
steadfastly stand and rally in retreat
a love that waits where passion went to sea
Lone footprints sadly circling tideless pools
scanning the silent surf for distant flame
passion in lustful search for passions fools
must meet a passion’s passion with the same
For pain is but the touchstone of this ruse
sweet proof that what was held was passion pure
dark pain that animates the passions muse
to bite the bloodied lip that must endure.
So does the sunrise climb to heat of day
while sunset in its cooling slips away.
11/6/2016
line 8 counted as 11 syllables by howmanysyllables
counted as 10 by me
//howmanysyllable seems to think that every apostrophe (‘s) adds a syllable//
Like stained thorns
that left perennial agony
on my wounded knees,
your parting words pervaded
through my veins~
inflicting an excruciating pain
that lingered on like unceasing rain.
And here beneath the dark clouds
as I glance upon the silhouettes
of the ruins of a once silent sanctuary
of our unrequited love~ teardrops fall
As I recall the gentle echo of your song.
Now I still,
I still don't know ~
the way back to my self again.
Just let me pick my broken pieces
that I may be whole again.
September 16,2021
Modified from my poem, “Like An Arrow”
For “L” Contest New or Old Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Constance La France
As the alchemy of flames converted spiral-bounds into ashen loam
No longer sheltering me o' genius words, it took twenty years to find another poem
It gave me peace at the time to well his wings, at 2 years old; it was me you should have took home
Of all minstrels throughout the ages, crafting limericks, I could not read for two decades a single solitary tome
So I prayed, give me strength again:
to pen these things,
to want for rhymes,
to wield this unending woe,
to be happy again in my life's syndrome.
There is much more to losing feelings; the ones required for survival
The person in life who found me uncomplicated answered a call no one else will ever rival
Her unrequited love gave life; resulting in this dead poet's revival
Despair
The inexorable pain of unrequited love within a caring soul,
young dreams dashed upon the rocky shores of despair
and in one fleeting moment all is gone
to the loved ones about them.
All the wisdom of the universe,
between the pages of time at the fingertip,
all for the asking and the page not turned,
the question not asked the lessons not learned.
Desperate lives within the worlds of the mind’s creation,
lost to obscurity and oblivion inside the single act that cannot be undone.
The sweet experiences of life’s pain and pleasures of the Mind beyond endurance,
squandered by the actions of a harlequin of little forethought,
as to the ramifications of this parsimonious act.
The self-destructive self-serving imprudent act of taking ones own life,
in a moment of despair and the anguish of depression.
Suicide is forever.
By
Josehf Lloyd Murchison
Iridescence and subliminal flow has condensed within your fragrant bower,
a scene of isolated beauty that portrays the essence of all splendour and redeeming
power.
You are repose and renewal to my longing soul
which in hunger for such a sight could have stayed unrequited still!
barren and with plighted role unto my desperate ill.
Now seen suffused in the radiant glow of you, like mirrors
are placed surrounding flowers inset in your resting place or in bunches,
frieze like and still, are coloured floral showers.
They experience no passing hour, in lilac clad repose, you gift this domain
with abundant russet locks a’ spray in a cascade of feral purity
shining vibrant gleams, diaphanous and serenity proclaimed.
You exude ephemeral and delicate majesty in coalescence
with this limpid mystic scene, pure spiritual visions profound combine
with siren-like illusion seen.
Desire calls as from traces etched on heavenly walls,
reflected pinions fan-like show through emerald hued illumination
in subtle sweeps below the surface of this inviolable creation.
© Joe Maverick 21-02-2011
Footnote: I have written this piece for the Reflections contest by Constance La
France. This is a fictional write and I ascribe none of the above attributes to the
scene or character names, these same attributes belonging solely to Yahwah, the
one God manifest as Father, Son and Holy Spirit.