Hope Lost Poems | Examples
These Hope Lost poems are examples of Lost poems about Hope. These are the best examples of Lost Hope poems written by international poets.
I'm a child in awe ~
what are you doing with my legacy
what hope do I have?
Wordku: 5-7-5 words
AP: Honorable Mention 2025
some loves bout lost come go almost all sorts
motives remain true pure until find not
list least cain hope fewer no good reports
still life like love moves backing forth cold hot
back outing again own each such sigh wish
loss lasts long gone fast run use eye oui next
stuff split rough two there one bright here blue dish
but still be same unself self sans pretext
wait patient fourth floor first ready confess
one day then now was dreamed real life unfold
four most seven great death comes not success
some would telling kisses end life untold
try may believe yes if not near reverse
mind conceives lives another universe
Lost Days
Lost in the darkness
lusting for a way out
Lurking in the blackness
longing for the tunnel
Blinking at the vague emptiness
stirring the hollowness
scaring the shadows
Scattering the darkened clouds
surfing for a ray of hope
Roaring at my doubts
as l map my way home
In the storm of life, my voice is like a lost feather,
A silent wind seeking its path where thunder has ceased.
They strive to hear, but silence is all they find,
As if in my quiet there is nothing to be told.
Some call it sweet, like a gentle and enchanted brook,
A lullaby lost in a distant dream.
Others laugh, saying it's too weak, too small to be heard,
A shadow of sound daring to fall into infinity.
I speak, but the world does not listen, words fade into the wind,
A mute song and a secret that remains unrevealed.
A gift left unanswered, a cold hand in waiting,
Perhaps my voice is meant for another realm where longing is felt.
But here I am, gentle, like a silent river that yearns to flow,
With the strength of whispers rising and silence breaking apart.
Gentleness may be a grace, a soft echo in a ruthless place,
A song not meant to shout, but to sing, a wind beneath the wing of hope.
Even a whisper can shape the sky, with its tender breeze,
A breeze that makes the stars sigh in the dream-filled night.
In this silence, this deep and quiet art,
Lies a force that moves the heart, a mystery that keeps us united.
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
The heart will beat
to a rhythm blood can’t read
skipping sacred moments
bearing scars of battles past.
If love comes for blood
every kindness hides a snare
the gentle touch a leech
that takes far more than it gives.
Still, we will call it love
for it laughs at our laughter
weaves hope through our silence
clings to compliments like a starving child.
If love comes for blood
its mask is flawless and warm
for it dwells in our feelings
yet the heart remains blameless.
Wait for me, my sweet heart, don’t go,
About you, I dreamed all my blossoming youth,
My heart serenaded you with my love song,
Alas, they were lost in the whispering wind.
Wait for me, my sweet heart, don’t leave me behind,
With the grace of God, you came to me as a runway star,
With love and affection, we marched on life’s treacherous paths,
On one sad day, you said good bye and never returned.
Wait for me, my sweet heart, don’t leave me alone,
My hope to be with you lingers in my heart,
My joys are desolate, my songs have lonely tunes,
My tears dried in the core of my heart.
Wait for me, my sweet heart, till I am satisfied,
With love overcoming grief, with love conquering all the hurdles,
Till all my dreams and desires get fulfilled,
Sweet heart, please don’t go!
Wounded, woeful woman.
Hostage of hindered hope.
Yowling, yearning, for you.
*1408 Acrostic Triplet Poetry Contest
*Sponsored by: Brian Strand
*Entered on: 08/31/2025
In a second by a bullet from a gun
A world of anticipation undone
No more rises the sun
My baby’s gone
~ My life too, its course now run
In the hollow hours before dawn,
when shadows stretch like grasping hands,
I search through rooms I’ve always known
for something I can’t understand.
The mirror holds a stranger’s face,
familiar yet somehow untrue—
eyes that once held fire and grace
now stare back empty, cold, and blue.
I walk through days like sleepwalking,
my footsteps echo on the ground,
the world around me keeps on talking
but I can’t hear a single sound.
Where did it go, that spark within?
That light that made the darkness flee?
Was it lost to doubt or sin,
or did it simply tire of me?
I trace the paths I used to know,
through gardens where I once found peace,
but every flower seems to bow
as if to mourn what won’t release.
The books speak words I cannot feel,
the music plays but doesn’t sing,
and nothing left feels wholly real—
I am the shell of everything.
Yet in the deepest, darkest night,
when hope seems just a fading dream,
sometimes I glimpse a distant light,
a whisper of what I have been.
Perhaps the soul is never lost,
just buried beneath the weight of days,
and though the journey bears a cost,
it waits for us in hidden ways.
I hope he makes you feel at home
hope it’s sweet when he’s singing you songs
I’m sorry I choked chewing on
my own tongue for too long
You’ve moved out
and moved on
Making vacancy space inside my arms
but there’s something I’m still clung on
Vagabond who can’t wander on
or let go of that glimmer of home
I wasn’t living in love
but I was somewhere so close
Does he listen when you’re silent?
Does he watch you as you sleep?
Is it everything we were supposed to have?
I can’t help but feel like the trick’s on me
You said
he makes you feel
like magic.
and I transcended, disappearing from the picture
as I imagined your passion
watched
my love story
col lapse
in
to
trag
edy
in a second
and a half.
Whispers draped in silver thread,
Promises soft, but sharp when read,
The tongue, a painter, skilled and sly,
Crafts a world from truthful lies.
A candle glows in shadow’s skin,
Light concealed where dark begins,
Hope is sold in fragile guise,
By merchants dealing truthful lies.
They dress the wound with tender care,
While leaving poison hidden there,
A smile can mask a thousand cries,
And truth dissolves in truthful lies.
Yet somewhere deep, beneath the guise,
A clearer flame, unchained, will rise.
For though deceit may cloud the skies,
The soul remembers—truth survives
belief begets hope
not the reverse
hope less belief
beggars the verse
From here to beyond eternity
I’ll roam this earth to find you
~ in storm or clement weather
Wordku: 5-7-5 words
AP: Honorable Mention 2025
I was a student of logic
when the world stopped breathing—
July 20, 1969,
a footprint pressed into silver dust.
Neil Armstrong’s voice crackled,
“one small step…”
and yet, my mind whispered—
was it the Moon,
or a Hollywood stage?
Fifty–six years have burned away,
half a century of miracles and machines.
We send probes beyond Pluto,
yet have not returned
to that pale frontier
just 384,400 kilometers away.
We dive to the edge of oceans,
but never to their blackest trench.
We speak of radiation belts,
Van Allen’s invisible fire—
how did fragile bodies
slip through alive,
wrapped only in cloth and hope?
Pride is America’s anthem.
If the flag had truly bitten lunar soil,
would it not have marched again—
and again—
until a fortress crowned the Moon?
They say budgets broke the dream.
But tell me—
what nation spares the stars
while spilling trillions on war?
The camera rolls.
The world applauds.
The truth drifts somewhere
between silence and space.