Longing poems describe feelings of wanting or missing something or someone. Longing is when you wish for something or someone that’s not with you right now.
It is a powerful and complex emotion, a mix of sadness, hope, and excitement. Longing poems give voice to our emotions. They create a sense of connection and a unique way of offering healing to the human heart.
These poems use special words and pictures to create a strong sense of desire.If you have feelings of longing,
Reading some poetry would be a great way to heal you. So if you want the best poems about longing, you’re in the right place.
Longing Is Like The Seed
By Emily Dickinson
Longing is like the Seed
That wrestles in the Ground,
Believing if it intercede
It shall at length be found.
The Hour, and the Clime —
Each Circumstance unknown,
What Constancy must be achieved
Before it see the Sun!
Longing
Come to me in my dreams, and then
By day I shall be well again!
For so the night will more than pay
The hopeless longing of the day.
Come, as thou cam’st a thousand times,
A messenger from radiant climes,
And smile on thy new world, and be
As kind to others as to me!
Or, as thou never cam’st in sooth,
Come now, and let me dream it truth,
And part my hair, and kiss my brow,
And say, My love why sufferest thou?
Come to me in my dreams, and then
By day I shall be well again!
For so the night will more than pay
The hopeless longing of the day.
Absence
BY JEFFREY MCDANIEL
On the scales of desire, your absence weighs more
than someone else’s presence, so I say no thanks
to the woman who throws her girdle at my feet,
as I drop a postcard in the mailbox and watch it
throb like a blue heart in the dark. Your eyes
are so green – one of your parents must be
part traffic light. We’re both self-centered,
but the world revolves around us at the same speed.
Last night I tossed and turned inside a thundercloud.
This morning my sheets were covered in pollen.
I remember the long division of Saturday’s
pomegranate, a thousand nebulae in your hair,
as soldiers marched by, dragging big army bags
filled with water balloons, and we passed a lit match,
back and forth, between our lips, under an oak tree
I had absolutely nothing to do with.
I miss my muse
I don’t miss you.
I miss my muse.
I don’t miss the pain.
I miss the inspiration.
I don’t miss the doubts and fears.
I miss the longing tears.
I don’t miss your voice.
I miss the silence between your words.
I’ve come to realize that I don’t need you…
I just need another muse.
Miles Away,”
By Carol Ann Duffy
I want you and you are not here. I pause
in this garden, breathing the colour thought is
before language into still air. Even your name
is a pale ghost and, though I exhale it again
and again, it will not stay with me. Tonight
I make you up, imagine you, your movements clearer
than the words I have you say you said before.
Wherever you are now, inside my head you fix me
with a look, standing here whilst cool late light
dissolves into the earth. I have got your mouth wrong,
but still it smiles. I hold you closer, miles away,
inventing love, until the calls of nightjars
interrupt and turn what was to come, was certain,
into memory. The stars are filming us for no one.
If you could sit with me beside the sea to-day,
And whisper with me sweetest dreamings o’er and o’er;
I think I should not find the clouds so dim and gray,
And not so loud the waves complaining at the shore.
If you could sit with me upon the shore to-day,
And hold my hand in yours as in the days of old,
I think I should not mind the chill baptismal spray,
Nor find my hand and heart and all the world so cold.
If you could walk with me upon the strand to-day,
And tell me that my longing love had won your own,
I think all my sad thoughts would then be put away,
And I could give back laughter for the Ocean’s moan!
Tenderness
By Fabrizio Frosini
Yearning for tenderness.
The one lost —It’s so long -so long
Since..
The light delves deep in the watery
Unconsciousness of an unnatural essence,
Just to find nothing.
Longing for what went missing at some point
Somewhere, in the long journey, is a beguiling
Dead end.
Come what may,
Pushed from pillar to post —Worn by
The wrinkles on the forehead
Without destination,
Loneliness
Regrets what’s gone lost,
Keeping its scent forever.
Echo Poem’
Christina Georgina Rossetti
Come to me in the silence of the night;
Come in the speaking silence of a dream;
Come with soft rounded cheeks and eyes as bright
As sunlight on a stream;
Come back in tears,
O memory, hope, love of finished years.
O dream how sweet, too sweet, too bitter sweet,
Whose wakening should have been in Paradise,
Where souls brimfull of love abide and meet;
Where thirsting longing eyes
Watch the slow door
That opening, letting in, lets out no more.
Yet come to me in dreams, that I may live
My very life again though cold in death:
Come back to me in dreams, that I may give
Pulse for pulse, breath for breath:
Speak low, lean low
As long ago, my love, how long ago.
This is all about the longing Poems.