With Longing Poems | Examples

Listen to the Wind

“Listen to the Wind” 

The wind arrives, with secrets stitched in its breath, 
It hums through the hollows of abandoned trees. 
A hush of silk, it weaves the dusk with longing, 
Its fingers comb the grass, gentle and unseen. 

And each guest watches, trembling, through the curtains. 
Rolling like sorrow across forgotten shores. 
And against the windows of weary houses. 
A lullaby layered with echoes of loss. 

The wind remembers the steps that have passed, 
And strews them as petals over the earth. 
It carries the salt of tears uncried, 
Spilling them gently into the quiet air. 

Listen—the wind is not empty but aching, 
A voice unmoored, searching for a place to rest. 
In the rafters it bides, as restless as a soul, 
Drifts away and takes some pieces of us. 

The wind does not ask for witness or reply, 
Yet, it teaches us how silence still can sing. 
When night tucks itself into the folds of shadowed valleys, 
The wind keeps vigil for all things who have no voice.

ARTIST : 3 - specular verse

contemporary Persian ancient 
blending intro-imagery with peach
                                    vulnerability            
identity a Khoisan outpouring on fields of Skukuza healings
whilst township dancers make their rites
              to bite presence on platform sites
              so will Gen Z’s make their 
 vibrant scratches on our rock walls
                   for Galactics to visit tall
courage was torn with rosemary bushes like
                                      biltong shreds 
                          ¥
he pierced her teenage framework newly     
                        smoothed with rosemary 
 galaxies watched in horror 
          scratched her legs with longing paws
                Gen Z’s roared their rage across    
                      the continent 
     she bit her presence into his poverty 
     townships waited in mourning
     her virginity ripped
     identity equals Acturian
             vulnerability is paintbrush memories 
             seven shadowy children 
             are to arrive crystal
             not through her uterus

The silent kiss

We sit so close, yet worlds apart, breathing the same air but trapped by our fear. Your hand brushes mine, and it’s like the universe pauses, a trembling spark I can’t name, a kiss that doesn’t need lips.

I want to tell you everything... how every glance of yours steals my breath, how every moment without you feels like a storm. But my voice falters, my courage hides in the shadows of doubt. What if you don’t feel the same? What if this fragile thing between us breaks?

And still, the silence speaks. It presses close, heavy with longing, and I feel your heart echoing mine in the spaces where words cannot reach. The curve of your lips, The warmth of your hand, it’s a kiss I can feel in my soul soft, trembling, infinite.

I ache to close the distance, to let the world vanish in that single moment, but fear pins me still, and yet even in this quiet, I am drowning in you.

"This silent kiss is everything I've ever needed, though it never touched your lips."

Then Mother Became Mist

She loved her child through rivers and mountains, 
copied sutras with trembling hands, 
offered them at dawn, noon, dusk, and night— 
each tear a stream flowing in silence.

She loved her child across endless miles, 
chanting through tears like mountain rain. 
The wind carried her voice to distant woods, 
cold rain soaking into her soul.

Then Mother became mist, fading in midday sun. 
Then Mother became fragrance, drifting through dreams. 
Then Mother became cloud, white hair at heaven’s edge. 
Then Mother became sunlight, a shadow behind the hill.

At midnight, I turn in a distant town, 
reading the last line of her sutra. 
Her words overflow with longing— 
transcribing the Buddha’s teaching across the river.

O love! A forest of white hair 
flies back to cover birth and death. 
A bird cries from the farthest sky— 
I lift my head, and hear the sound of the Unborn.

--- By Nguyen Giac Phan Tan Hai

The Silent Kiss

“The fusion of her lips with his took him 
to the edge of the stilled time,
across the silent waves of euphoria.” – By Poet


The pristine patina of the unfurled rose 
          glistened like garnet on your lilac lips,
mingled with mine they seemed like the melody 
    of the shimmering dew at sunrise,
resonating in the flushing meadow 
of my heart pulsating with longing
         that rolled the waves of euphoria
from the receding shore of the ecstatic time.

Floating entranced on the fragrant air of your allure 
         I devoured the flavor of lust 
    from the luscious contours of your yearning lips. 
Your crimson enticement stoked up
         my flaming desire, turning my craving 
into gleaming ember of fervent love.
In its afterglow fused with the hues of the setting sun 
    I still feel the sensual pleasure of the silent kiss.

The Perfect Poem

The perfect poem
always has something missing,
an emptiness between words
lined with longing,
a space large enough
for a reader to fit in.

LABYRINTHINE PATHS

LABYRINTHINE PATHS
“You have no need to travel anywhere—journey within yourself. Enter a mine of rubies and bathe in the splendor of your own light.” Rumi
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I walk softly into the labyrinth,
knowing not what I will find.
Cautiously, I journey within. 

Through labyrinthine paths I meander
seeking answers.
Expectantly, I journey within.

Time unfolds like an origami crane,
‘art of being’ stitched to its wings.
Silently I journey within. 

I take apart this paper sculpture
each fold a lesson in being. 
Optimistically, I journey within. 

I look for truth on the crumpled paper,
the complex duality of my existence.
Scrupulously, I journey within. 

My heart is a labyrinth,
its chambers filled with longing.
Joyfully, I journey within. 

I emerge, transformed, quietly reassured.
The journey within is the journey home.

In realms of dreams, where magic is born in the late evening hour

In realms of dreams, where magic is born in the late evening hour,
A hidden paradise in whispers and in the descending moonlight's power.
Beautiful settings, love like an old perfume, beyond description,
Amber eyes burning with vows in the fire of a dream's depiction.
On this earth, seductive and full of love, we lose our senses completely,
Shadows of the past dance with longing, reminding us of love sweetly.
The summer night binds us in sweet kisses and uninterrupted whispers,
How many memories hide in words, how many unseen longings it whispers.
We lose ourselves in time, carried by the wind singing eternity's song,
The enchanted soul flies like a bird seeking freedom all along.
Sweet smiles on corners of dreams, painted in rainbow hues that last,
The sweet torment remains forever, like an echo of unending longing from the past.
Night of dreams, lost paradise, sweet love that envelops us with ease,
We, lost and dreaming, with hearts full of immortal longing to seize.

Eagle Rock Reverie

Written: August 06, 2025

                     *********
            
The traffic roars as wounded gulls.  
metal beats skated over the asphalt waves, 
each honk a fractured prayer,
fleeing the city, restless breath.

I sit beneath a twisted jacaranda tree.  
Its lavender flowers unfurl as the sun dips low 
Parrots squabble in the canopy— 
boisterous, unrepentant, and singing,  
stirring the dawn with their raucous cries,
a beauty entwined with longing. 

Their melody exists beyond,   
concrete and clocks,

I sip coffee—malnourished warmth—  
Its bitter essence wedged between my ribs,  
where comfort once thrived. 
The chipped cup, a reflection of lost trust.

Each face that passes me
is a silent question,   
I have forgotten how to answer.

Once I skated these streets  
hungry for names,  
for the echo of someone to cram my void, 
But identity remains a fog  
caught between chain-link fences  
and fragrant jasmine vines.

Yet still,  
I listen for that singular voice  
amid the clamorous parrots,  
the one that might beckon me back  
into the wholeness of myself.

ENVY

It enters like an old friend
Too familiar to knock
Slipping in quietly
When joy is about to speak.

It frowns at others’ laughter
Shudders at joined hands
Sours even the sweetest moments
Like a worm in ripe fruit.

A plague, it spreads
Changing faces and shifting names
Hard to name and harder to cure
It hides behind our smiles.

It festers and grows into hate
A hollow in the heart we feed
Not with love but with longing
To be anything but ourselves.

Envy is the devil in disguise
Polite and persuasive
The root of quiet wars
And loud silences in the soul.

I look at the sky as an ocean of freedom, a realm of boundless flight

I look at the sky as an ocean of freedom, a realm of boundless flight,
where birds sketch their destinies on the blue canvas of infinity,
and I wonder why I remain where wings are just unlived dreams,
but the mirror shows me the answer, a truth hidden deep in my heart,
for my wings were never broken, just taught not to open.
Every time they flutter, a voice whispers to me of gravity,
of duties and guilts dressed in the cloak of false love,
carrying in my chest cages built from old promises and unspoken rules,
their doors have always been open, but fear shouted louder than the wind.
I have grown roots in places I should have left long ago,
I called them loyalty, I called them home, but they were just the comfort of familiar pain,
and now, I lift my gaze to the sky with longing, not because I cannot fly,
but because I have not yet learned to believe I deserve to be among the stars.

I remain in the silence of the evening, wondering if it still matters now

I remain in the silence of the evening, wondering if it still matters now,
Whether you have forgotten me or if I was meant to forget you,
Because, in the end, what truly mattered wasn't the goodbye,
But the way you stayed, honest and full of love,
Truly present when I needed someone the most,
Like a warm light embracing the shadows at dusk.
Perhaps forgetting isn't the hardest part,
But losing someone real, a living and authentic presence,
A soul that knew how to be there without a mask, without hesitation,
Like an old tree offering shade and shelter on scorching days,
Or like a gentle river singing its story among the stones of time,
A thread connecting hearts lost in search of an answer.
So I sit here, contemplating memories that slip away like sand,
Wondering if your memory will remain alive deep within me,
For what mattered wasn't the departure, but your silent permanence,
Like a forgotten song that still echoes with longing and gratitude,
And perhaps, in forgetting, I find not an end but a beginning of understanding,
That the true loss is the absence of a heart that knew how to be real.

Faraway Moon

Standing on the edge of time,
Seeing the moon far away,
Heart sick with longing,
Heavy stones, laden piece by piece till heart drops.

A sight to behold—
Beautiful, pure, far away.
Reaching for an embrace,
As cold winds smack my face.

The brightest moon,
A contrast to my bleak spring.
The deepest longing,
With mosquitoes as my companion.

A wretched fate,
Only suited for an empty embrace.
Standing alone in an empty field,
As I watch the moon stray further away.

So I wish upon the forlorn stars
That fate brings us near—
In another life, or another world,
With an embrace so dear,
The sky will weep in joy.

Every Minute Each Day

Every minute, every hour of each day,
my heart entreats you with longing.
I desire your heart trusts what I say
every minute, every hour of each day.
If God exists, I avidly pray
He accords my desire for belonging.
Every minute, every hour of each day
my heart entreats you with longing.

Every minute, every hour of each day,
I desire your heart trusts what I say.
If God exists, I avidly pray
He accords my desire for belonging.
My heart entreats you with longing
accompanied by true love’s prolonging.

In fragments and tatters, in pieces and shards, scattered by the winds of time

In fragments and tatters, in pieces and shards, scattered by the winds of time,
I gather them carefully, even if they hurt me, my fingers bleed, but I do not stop,
These precious fragments, these bitter shards, these tattered edges and broken tears,
I collect them with longing, refusing to let them fall into oblivion,
Each piece carries with it a story, an echo of what once was,
A puzzle of lost memories, a constellation of desires and regrets,
I cannot let them be lost in the void, to dissolve into the silence of forgetting,
For they are part of me, of who I was and who I am now,
I carve a path through the shadows of the past, through the ruins of shattered dreams,
I bend down to gather what remains, to weave again the tapestry of my life,
With each shard and each tatter, I build a new beginning,
I refuse to give up, to surrender to despair, for in these fragments lie the seeds of hope.

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