Long Young love Poems
Long Young love Poems. Below are the most popular long Young love by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Young love poems by poem length and keyword.
The eager rapt fervidness of my intense determination to meet my
love in this beautiful meadow meets me with utterly charming silence.
He will be along shortly, I tell myself. He is sometimes late.
With sheer reverence I still my soul, feeling an unnatural amorousness
as I walk toward my destiny, with my pretty skirt, flipping against my legs.
I have dressed prettily, and my hair is bouncing.
Twilight has never looked so beautiful. I love this meadow with vehemence
as I note the dainty clover, Queen Anne’s lace, and wild daisies.
I feel powerful, and sexy as I approach the most beautiful woods in the universe, the best mother nature has to offer. I sit on our rock, the large boulder of granite, our place.
Star’s effervescence helps to perpetrate a lack of concern or disquietude as I
wait for my man.
He is often late. This is nothing.
He will be here. He is not good about time, that is all.
No one else can satisfy my hunger or quench my thirst,
and we both know it.
I am not sure who knows it better, and I do not care.
I shower the meadow with heartfelt veneration, thanking her for providing us
with a place we can call home.
A magical place, where we can talk and laugh, into
the night, disturbing no one.
Where we can get a glimpse of a deer or a squirrel,
and smile knowingly at each other about it in our secret language.
A shadow takes a step out of the woods. It is him.
A perpetual latecomer, but ever so welcome.
I open my arms, understanding the melody of young love
better every time we meet in this magical forest.
Written February 11, 2019 Contest: Free Verse Love Poem
Sponsor: Lu Loo
*I like all of your signs. That is so generous. Especially number 6.
There was a moment
without the sound of trumpets or a shining light,
but with only silence and darkness and a cool mist
felt more than seen.
I was eighteen,
my heart pounding wildly within me like a fist.
Expectation hung like a cry in the night,
and your eyes shone like the corona of a comet.
There was an instant . . .
without words, but with a deeper communion,
as clothing first, then inhibitions fell;
liquidly our lips met
—feverish, wet—
forgotten, the tales of heaven and hell,
in the immediacy of our fumbling union . . .
when the rest of the world became distant.
Then the only light was the moon on the rise,
and the only sound, the communion of sighs.
Published by Grassroots Poetry and Poetry Webring
Love's an emotion that is known to all
Since the very first day we are born
The degree of love and intense infatuation
Can be just like a summer storm
From a gentle shower to a thunderous roar
It exhibits the power of the rain
The depth of love can be similar in intensity
Can be powerful or a simple refrain
A feeling that lives down deep in our soul
Like nothing that we've ever felt
It can often leave us weak and trembling
Slurring our words as we melt
Nothing else in our multitude of emotions
Can even come close to this joy
Like the day our child takes it's very first step
Or young love between a girl and a boy
As time marches on, many things diminish
In intensity, in depth, in passion
But one thing that will forever remain
Love will never go out of fashion
Look up in the great big sky
Something is catching my eye
A circle of flames so red
Shining romance overhead
Glowing with such charm and passion
Colliding two young hearts and crashin'
Them into one love beating
As this action is repeating
Through the night as single hearts
Get together and not part
While the magic of moon glow
Spreads happiness down below
Moonlight making caring sparks
Arms cuddle tight in the dark
Stars help bounce moon beams and form
A canvas happy and warm
A fiery creation
That is seen across the nation
A picture perfect painting of
The mystery of a moons love
If I could live one day again, I'd choose that day so fair
Our walk among the jaded trees, in dappled shade, a blanket spread
You picked among the meadow grass the flowers for my hair
The earth was fresh with dampened grass, a tender flowered bed
With innocence and tender care, young love within our reach
Such longing eyes, your tender touch, like petals in the wind
The folded clothes, which lie nearby, no words between us said
We languished there beneath blue skies, and promised love began
But time moves on and days grow short, for springtime fades to gray
We're not so young, but still I long, although our autumn's here
With winter near, I feel your love, just as it was that day...
It warms my heart to be assured that love can last the years
Far back in time, with younger face,
Our future was untold
My dream awakes, I'm young inside, .....
When did we both grow old?
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If I were straight as an arrow, or gay
as a songbird; then I'd consume the time,
exhaust “carpe diem,”—and thus seize the day!
For life's too short; and youth's brief paradigm,
like the spring season, is much more fleeting
than young love (a fact that's best left unknown).
So, you see that I'm not above cheating
fate: growing old and wise is overblown.
Just as wisdom is wasted on the old,
so is youth and love wasted on the young
(as they say): so, if being gray is like gold
in one's twilight years, then my cock's well-hung!
For what's there more to say? Life's just too hard
and short: so make much of its brief reward.
Did we really dabble daily?
You must be hyper-delirious!
Is it the posit in my eyes;
the recent rosy surprises?
Honeymooners might silkily slide
and slip sleepily into such dreams,
remembered. Still
such thoughts bring to mind
those early reclines of young love.
I can picture you in your red threads,
unveiling of slim
and vainglorious muscles,
the hustle of prowess.
Our steamy windows,
the firsts, the thirsts,
the pinpoint of lusty eyes,
the thrust of vigor.
Do we dabble daily
in linking love,
hand in hand;
the saxophone hums.
Together we slide
through the love tunnel
in the dark,
dangerously drifting
toward the eternal waterfall;
the climax.
The two of us fell instantly in love
It came as a gift from heaven above
We had to keep our feelings hidden
For me falling in love was forbidden.
You wrote me a letter long, long ago
Exquisite writing from my youthful beau
But the letter had been opened and read
Causing my poor heart much sorrow and stress.
We were young, love was frowned upon
It became impossible, had to move on
I never saw you, not ever again
It wasn’t easy to live with the pain.
I wear your handwriting etched on my heart
Inked in vibrant colourfulness of art
Words I’ll cherish till the stars cease to shine
Written once upon an enchanted time.
The door will not budge
It’s locked and bolted
Doubly secure
It was once wide open
He was waiting at the door
To welcome me in
Arms outstreched
Love shining in his eyes
His heart home
Decorated in all the best
Waiting for me to come in, to rest
To relive memories
Of a young love
After all these years
His heart home
A refuge a comfort
Warmed by the fire
Of glowing embers
Now bursting to flame
Of a love never gone out
A love still the same
After all these years
Having found him again
I was a welcome visitor
I stayed, I loved, I lived
In the heart of his home
But I was overwhelmed
Giddy, delirious
With his love
Sure it was not real
How could he love
Someone like me
After all these years?
And so, the moment he looked away
To give the finishing touches
To a love feast
He was preparing for me
To feed my famished heart
While his softly uttered words
Were hovering around me
Kissing and undressing me
Melting me to the core
In that moment
I slipped out through the door
Afraid of what I’d do, say
If I stayed too long
By the fireplace of his love
Leaving behind me
His broken heart
And now
A weary traveler
Filled with regret
Not finding any kindness
Any welcoming embrace
Or any heart home
With passion ablaze
I come back to the door
Only to find it locked and barred
But I know he is there
I see the dim light
There…he looks out from the window
And pulls the curtain tight
I knock and I knock
Till my hands bleed
And my eyes run out of tears
But the door stays shut
Firmly shut
And day upon day
I wait and I pray
Squeeze bloodied love letters
Under the door
Beginning, pleading for more
Another day ends
And nighttime descends
And here am I
Here am I
Down on my knees
On the other side
Of the door of his heart.
Eileen Manassian Ghali
Album
by Michael R. Burch
I caress them—trapped in brittle cellophane—
and I see how young they were, and how unwise;
and I remember their first flight—an old prop plane,
their blissful arc through alien blue skies ...
And I touch them here through leaves which—tattered, frayed—
are also wings, but wings that never flew:
like insects’ wings—pinned, held. Here, time delayed,
their features never changed, remaining two ...
And Grief, which lurked unseen beyond the lens
or in shadows where It crept on feral claws
as It scratched Its way into their hearts, depends
on sorrows such as theirs, and works Its jaws ...
and slavers for Its meat—those young, unwise,
who naively dare to dream, yet fail to see
how, lumbering sunward, Hope, ungainly, flies,
clutching to Her ruffled breast what must not be.
Keywords/Tags: youth, young love, first love, dating, courtship, engagement, marriage, honeymoon, album, picture album, memory, memories, mementos, keepsakes, photo, photos, photograph, photographs, time, grief, loss, travel, trip, flight, flying, plane, airplane