Rendezvous Poems - Poems about Rendezvous

On a quiet Sunday, when the world hums softly, I find myself tangled in thoughts, the weight of yesterday's shadows pressing down, and light filtering through the curtains feels foreign against my heavy heart. I sit on the edge of our bed, watching you breathe, wondering... can we fall in love again? Can we piece together this beautiful mess, woven with laughter and echoes in every...

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Cold and running out of light, a winter's afternoon seems to gather the last few things to put on view - clouds hurrying across the sky with shapes that suggest a face or a butterfly and hanging just above the rooftops, the pale outline of a daylight moon. And the mood of a late afternoon settles here too in the long shadows cast by...

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Rendezvous  The youngish woman sitting near the window in the train, looks pale and too slim Stroking her throat, I think she has tuberculosis on her  way to the sanatorium  "The Camelia dame"? Her lover will sit beside her as she coughs blood into a silk handkerchief and whisper words of love As the train slows down, she looks into her hand mirror, apply lipstick...

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A is for Artists, ageless souls ignite, In Malleshwaram's magic, bathed in golden light. B is for Bard's whispers, stories that unwind, Connecting young and old, a tapestry we find. C is for Children, curious and bright, Drinking words like nectar, under the starry night. D is for Dreams ignited, by verses brave and bold, Freedom's...

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you're so far away... tantalizing temptation was always your forte teasing me, drawing me in making me yearn for your passionate kiss desperate to be lured into your amorous arms by those luscious lavender lips and the sweet scent of your sultry sensuality alas, my love... this cruel chasm created by your passing has left me melancholic how I remember our romantic rendezvous and savor...

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“O,...

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A Cruel Twist of Fate Silent rendezvous Destiny’s cruel twist of fate Lost chance forever Love’s Chance Whispered in the breeze Meeting place but I’m alone Love’s chance slips away Empty Bench Time slips through my hands Empty bench—where did you go? Heartache lingers on *I wrote this poem on January 7, 2024, as part of a ’30 days of poetry’ January challenge. This was day 7...

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Her prince waited by the sea to etch her portrait in powdery sands beside him before nocturnal waves danced in sheer moonlight kisses; Alas, too late in rendezvous, she captured his evanescent silhouette no more....

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in morning light sunlit curls in rendezvous with the wind 13 October 2023...

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Orchard of rosy apples, ripe and sweet, gleaming radiance in picturesque fields. trees weighed down in the bounty treat, gifts wrapped in love, reckoning yields squashy white flesh in crimson shields. cute plump cheeks, clustered ruby balls. Who painted them red? brimming galore in shadow of summer, an autumn befalls. Bushels and cartons teeming to the store, the golden and green, delicious ever more. Joy...

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To go as promptly As longing can. Two sparked feeling-forms. A lightning storm's! Held back, no more, in Waiting for it. Fear, overcautious To be nauseous. Frustrates, does ever And heart and soul The real self; of Love Sanctified above....

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The past was filled with so much joy, Like it was just the two of us, oh boy. Where there seemed to be no end to our affection and fun, Our story seemed to have just begun. But unexpectedly, we drifted apart, Hoping that the past could restart. Even so, you're still my favorite memory, So I'll wait for you at our...

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Rendezvous' If the callous fingers of stolid silence could but stir me To rise with the bright radiant ever-changing flight of moon And await new birth of sea fairies dancing to Neptune's wake Wherein the majestic blue sea cries out mightily to flee. Robert J. Lindley. April 2nd 1971 Quatrain...

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Marianne said pointing to the moon “The sun doesn’t smile brightly” “grimacing” “depressed” rolled up curtains mother’s gaze looking down at her daughter beckoning in front of a window with 16 small windows the footprints of the night were drawing a map of love she walks over it. Morning, early morning, hungry morning putting cheap bread in the toaster going back and forth forgot as the house filled with smoke and...

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What plot is this, what dark and muffled muttering, so sinister and secret in the morning fog ? What evil beings are these black cloaks covering, so earnest and impassioned seems their dialogue ? How cruel and misjudging to suspect them thus. Huddled against the chill, they’re waiting for their bus !...

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