Poems On Love And Longing Quotes

it's easy to look back and romanticize the bits of time when you were first getting to know someone. both of you were looking at each other the same way you have to look at the sun when it's in the middle of the sky; squinting because it's so bright. ~ Madisen Kuhn

Remember me
when faded illumination
transcends my name-
Remarks are heard
with beating silence
and I am born
on tranquil starlight- ~ Phen Weston

You were like reading a good novel. The kind were you wanted to turn every page, & never put it down... And absorb every second. But for whatever reason, that novel isn't there for me to read, & so, it's endless chapters are gone from my reach. And I don't dare to pretend to be surprised. But I do dare to wonder why.

And though it's gone, I smile because it was the best novel I ever read. In those brief moments the novel of you possessed me, mind, body, & soul alike.
I felt joy & adoration in such a degree, that if I never do again it'll be okay.

When you read a great novel, you never forget it. And you never let go of the feeling of it in your mind. The captivating nature of it. But greater than a novel, not mere words on a page, but a reality. Reality in a vivid form that can't begin to be put into words. That words, could not touch.

You're the kind of novel one would desperately want to finish. To keep near at hand & close at heart.
But it can't be. And though it's a mournful & somber thought, there's enjoyment in the knowledge that for a brief moment in time, it was there.

The novel of her, was a novel of breathtaking wonder. And if I never get to read another page, I'll cherish those I had the privilege of reading. And you can only hope that whoever reads it next, values it in the way you so know is deserved. ~ Trevor Driggers

My letters! all dead paper, mute and white!
And yet they seem alive and quivering
Against my tremulous hands which loose the string
And let them drop down on my knee to-night.
This said,
he wished to have me in his sight
Once, as a friend: this fixed a day in spring
To come and touch my hand ... a simple thing,
Yet I wept for it!
this, ... the paper's light ...
Said, Dear I love thee; and I sank and quailed
As if God's future thundered on my past.
This said, I am thine
and so its ink has paled
With lying at my heart that beat too fast.
And this ... O Love, thy words have ill availed
If, what this said, I dared repeat at last! ~ Elizabeth Barrett Browning

She wasn't broken.
She was made up of a thousand tiny little cracks.
She was always trying to keep herself glued together.
But it was hard, she felt too much.
No matter what she did, her emotions seeped through,
sometimes in drips, other times in floods,
She felt everything,
the heaviness of the clouds right before rain,
the rush of the subway cars as they left the station,
the feeling of goodbye as she watched someone walk away,
wondering if it was the last time she would see them,
the feeling of a kiss lingering on her cheek for hours.
She felt the loneliness of the sun as it hung in the sky,
shedding light on the day,
without companion.

And she longed to give as much as the sun.
If she could brighten someone's day,
bestow warmth were there was cold,
make someone smile, give someone hope,
then for a minute, an hour, maybe even a day,
the cracks would fill with love
and the pain would become only a voice,
reminding her that her pain was important.
She knew how fragile life was, how hard,
and how precious.

She wanted to feel it all. ~ Jacqueline Simon Gunn

There lived a poet in the lands of gold,
Wrote along poems unaffected by warmth or cold,
His words spoke truth and pen's stroke was bold,
His only motive: lives to mould ~ Adhish Mazumder

I believe I was afraid…of not being worthy of you. I have spent weeks writing, scribbling my thoughts, reliving every moment we shared, and I saw…the happiness we shared when we were together. The gleam in your dark eyes when you saw me. And I realized…that is what it's about, is it not? Those pieces of happiness are what matters. Not title or name. I write stories and poems of love and dreams coming true, but I did not allow myself to see it as something that could be real…not for me…but it was true…what we shared, and not only am I better for it, the world could be too."
"I am a better man because of you, Cas. Imagine what we could do together?"
Cassius gasped…hoped. "Do you still want me, my prince?"
"I have never wanted another the way I want you. There will never be another I love the way I love you."
Merrick raised his hand, cupped Cassius's cheek. Cas nuzzled into him, closed his eyes, trembled when he felt Merrick's lips touch his. They kissed slowly, deeply, reexploring each other.
Cassius swallowed down Merrick's moans and then fed him his own.
And it was…perfect.
When they pulled apart, Cassius led Merrick back to the rock. The sun kept the chill off as they climbed on together ~ Riley Hart

His hand cupped her face, his thumb caressing the delicate line of her jaw. "Listen to me, Raven." He brushed a kiss on the top of her silky head. "I know I do not deserve you. You think you are somehow less than what I am, but in truth, you are so far above me, I have no right even to reach for you."
When she stirred as if to protest, Mikhail held her tighter. "No, little one, I know this is true. I see you clearly, whereas you do not have access to my thoughts and memories. I cannot give you up. I wish I was a stronger, better man so that I could do so, but I cannot. I can only promise you that I will do everything in my power to make you happy, to provide for you everything I can possibly give you. I ask for time to learn your ways, for room to make mistakes. If you need to hear words of love" - his mouth skimmed down the side of her face to find the corner of her mouth - " then I can say them to you in all honesty. I never believed I would have a woman of my own, a true lifemate. I have never wanted a woman for my own."
His kiss was infinitely tender, a searing, smoky flame tasting of love and longing. "You are in my heart to stay, Raven. I know better than you the differences between us. I ask only for a chance. ~ Christine Feehan

My heart's scripture tastes
foreign in the mouths of
cowards and on the tongues of
those who have never breathed in
the moon and breathed out the world. ~ D. Antoinette Foy

Favourites.-There is, of course, here and there on this terrestrial sphere a kind of sequel to love, in which that envious longing of two persons for one another has yielded to a new desire and covetousness, to a common, higher thirst for a superior ideal standing above them : but who knows this love? Who has experienced it? Its right name is friendship. ~ Friedrich Nietzsche

When I burst into the terminal, my eyes swept around, bouncing from person to person in the crowded, bustling space. My stomach fell a little when I didn't see him, but I knew he probably couldn't come this far. He was probably at baggage claim.
I looked around for a sign to point me in the right direction and finally saw one labeled Baggage Claim with an arrow pointing off to the left.
But I didn't follow the arrow.
My eyes fixed on someone standing beneath the sign.
His hands were jammed into the pockets of his well-worn slouchy jeans. The relaxed action pulled the waistband low, highlighting his flat, narrow waist his Henley tee molded to. As usual, he was wearing his varsity jacket and his blond hair was a mess.
My gaze locked on his sapphire-blue eyes and didn't let go. His eyes, ohmigod, his eyes. The blue was so intense it served as an emergency brake on everything in my life. The second I looked at him, everything else came to a screeching halt. I no longer noticed the huge crowd rushing around.
The anxiety-causing flight was just a distant memory, and the two weeks I spent longing for his touch became something I would live through ten times over just to be in this moment with him again.
His lips pulled into a smile and the charm that oozed from every pore in his body made me almost lightheaded. Romeo pulled his hands out of his pockets and straightened, motioning for me.
I rushed across the space separating us, my bag ~ Cambria Hebert

My friend Gordon Wheeler, who is a psychologist, explains that grief is the reminder of the depth of our love. Without love, there is no grief. So when we feel our grief, uncomfortable and aching as it may be, it is actually a reminder of the beauty of that love, now lost. I'll never forget calling Gordon while I was traveling and hearing him say that he was out to dinner by himself after the loss of a dear friend 'so he could feel his grief.' He knew that in the blinking and buzzing world of our lives, it is so easy to delete the past and move on to the next moment. To linger in the longing, the loss, the yearning is a way of feeling the rich embroidered texture of life, the torn cloth of our world that is endlessly being ripped and rewoven. ~ Dalai Lama XIV

On the other side of that big-ass mirror, a video camera was watching us. In about ten seconds, it was going to start spitting static at itself, and everything it saw was going to break up into a fuzzy, gray-white wash, rolling up and down, that wouldn't be admissible as evidence on Judge Judy. Those missing frames would last a little less than a quarter of a minute, consolidate themselves back
into a semblance of reality, and then I would theoretically go walking right back out of here.
Between now and that moment, there stretched an infinite ocean of potential
time. Time enough to walk around the world. Time enough to fall in love, get
married on a white beach under purple stars, write a book of poems about
truest passion, have a few good and bloody screaming matches, get divorced in a court of autumn elves and gypsy moths, then set the ink-stained, tear-streaked pages of your text ablaze. ~ Clinton Boomer

Lovers feel a certain burning in their hearts. A deep longing and desire to meet with the beloved creates that burning. To love God is bound to create a very great fire in you. You will be on fire because you have chosen as your love object something impossible. You will have to weep and cry, and you will have to pray, and you will have to fast, and your mind has to continuously repeat and remember the beloved. ~ Osho

I will never claim to know what you are thinking. I only hope I am on your mind. ~ Amanda Mosher

There are things that will not have themselves buried and put out of sight, as though they had never been. ~ Anthony Trollope

The Portuguese call it saudade: a longing for something so indefinite as to be indefinable. Love affairs, miseries of life, the way things were, people already dead, those who left and the ocean that tossed them on the shores of a different land - all things born of the soul that can only be felt. ~ Anthony De Sa

I like being on my own better than I like anything else, but I can't give up love. Maybe it's the tension between longing and aloneness that I need. My own funicular railway, holding in balance the two things most likely to destroy me. ~ Jeanette Winterson

The Power of the Dog
by Rudyard Kipling


There is sorrow enough in the natural way
From men and women to fill our day;
And when we are certain of sorrow in store,
Why do we always arrange for more?
Brothers and Sisters, I bid you beware
Of giving your heart to a dog to tear.

Buy a pup and your money will buy
Love unflinching that cannot lie--
Perfect passion and worship fed
By a kick in the ribs or a pat on the head.
Nevertheless it is hardly fair
To risk your heart for a dog to tear.

When the fourteen years which Nature permits
Are closing in asthma, or tumour, or fits,
And the vet's unspoken prescription runs
To lethal chambers or loaded guns,
Then you will find--it's your own affair--
But ... you've given your heart to a dog to tear.

When the body that lived at your single will,
With its whimper of welcome, is stilled (how still!).
When the spirit that answered your every mood
Is gone--wherever it goes--for good,
You will discover how much you care,
And will give your heart to a dog to tear.

We've sorrow enough in the natural way,
When it comes to burying Christian clay.
Our loves are not given, but only lent,
At compound interest of cent per cent.
Though it is not always the case, I believe,
That the longer we've kept 'em, the more do we grieve:
~ Rudyard Kipling

Love came easy, but it just wasn't for me.
It flew away like swallows on a summer evening.
Love sang softly, but it just wasn't to me.
Was I a fool to give my love, to give my soul,
and more away?
My heart aches with longing, cries each night,
As I just fall apart.
- Carmen, singing Love Has Flown Away ~ Walter Dean Myers

I believe in your kiss... your touch
and the way you make me feel.
I believe in your eyes... that make me
see the good in most.

I believe in your mouth... and your sweet
taste... and the softness of the words
that flow from you.
I believe your love has taken me places,
I never dreamed possible.

I believe in your laughter... your tears
of caring and your muted look
of understanding.
I believe that your love has made
me a better human being.

I believe your compassion and
patience have enriched all who
have come to know you.
I believe because of you, I'm the luckiest
person on the face of the earth.

I believe in you... in everything you
say and do.
I believe... that you
have made this world a better place ~ Joe Fazio

You have to love dancing to stick to it. It gives you nothing back, no manuscripts to store away, no paintings to show on walls and maybe hang in museums, no poems to be printed and sold, nothing but that single fleeting moment when you feel alive.
~ Merce Cunningham

I imagine a line, a white line, painted on the sand and on the ocean, from me to you. ~ Jonathan Safran Foer

He shrugged. Whatever does it mean? We write poems about it all day and sing songs about it all night but if there is such a thing in real life I'm damned if I know. ~ Philippa Gregory

And as she looked at the pool she saw the waters gather up into a column, rushing up foaming and standing there before her startled eyes, and turn into the form of a man.
Not a man, a god. So perfectly formed, so handsome, with such wisdom and desire in his eyes and such quiet joy on his lips. He was breathtakingly beautiful and Anne felt herself grow weak with some unnamable longing. His eyes met hers and caught her soul tight, and she could not look away as he read every thought in her mind.
"Come," he said to her in a voice like liquid silver, "I know your mind, and it is one with mine."
Anne could not speak, but she did not need to. Her eyebrows raised in question.
He laughed, "Why to love, of course. ~ Elliot Mabeuse

New York may end up being no more than a scrim, a spectral film that is none other than our craving for romance - romance with life, with masonry, with memory, sometimes romance with nothing at all. This longing goes out to the city and from the city comes back to us. Call it narcissism. Or call it passion. It has its flare-ups, its cold nights, its sudden lurches, and its embraces. It is our life finally revealed to us in the most lifeless hard objects we'll ever cast eyes on: concrete, steel, stonework. Our need for intimacy and love is so powerful that we'll look for them and find them in asphalt and soot. ~ Andre Aciman

Autumn has come
and reason has gone.
Yesterday, I sold the sun for you
and tonight the stars are running away from me.
When you first spoke,
you slowly annihilated my world.
Your mouth was like the sea -
in your kisses I sank.
Your hands were like the ocean -
in your caresses I sank.
I ask for no salvation on this moonless night.
I only ask for more Autumn. ~ Kamand Kojouri

History, for better or worse, is 'us' on a grand scale - full of secrets, beauty, fear, longing, and stifled love. Without history, our lives would not be complete, and we could not be, in the best sense, fully 'human. ~ Boria Sax

Even while you should think you had unquestionably caught me, behold!
Already you see I have escaped from you.

For it is not for what I have put into it that I have written this book,
Nor is it by reading it you will acquire it,
Nor do those know me best who admire me and vauntingly praise me,
Nor will the candidates for my love (unless at most a very few) prove victorious,
Nor will my poems do good only, they will do just as much evil, perhaps more,
For all is useless without that which you may guess at many times and not hit, that which I hinted at;
Therefore release me and depart on your way. ~ Walt Whitman

We will read books together inside the blanket and stay warm. And keep writing poetry in our respective journals. Time will fly but we will still remain inside the blanket forever. ~ Avijeet Das

Maybe I had had an illusion, I thought. I stood there a long time, gazing at the rainswept streets. Once again, I was a twelve-year-old boy staring for hours at the rain. Look at the rain long enough, with no thoughts in your head, and you gradually feel your body falling loose, shaking free of the world of reality. Rain has the power to hypnotize.
But this had been no illusion. When I went back into the bar, a glass and an ashtray remained where she had been. A couple of lightly crushed cigarette butts were lined up in the ashtray, a faint trace of lipstick on each. I sat down and closed my eyes. Echoes of music faded away, leaving me alone. In that gentle darkness, the rain continued to fall without a sound. ~ Haruki Murakami

Think of it! We could have gone on longing for one another and pretending not to notice forever. This obsession with dignity can ruin your life if you let it. ~ Mary Ann Shaffer

I love you in my very own way.
Like a stone loves the mosses around it
Like a sea loves the pebbles in it
Like a coincidence ...
Taking you as the way you are,
With all the bruises, scars and broken parts all around you and your heart.
I love you in my very own way
By throwing the stone, the mosses, the sea and the pebbles to your head
Like i want to kill you.
Just because of envying the love
That my heart spend on you. ~ Arzum Uzun

I did not know I was on a search for passionate aliveness. I only knew I was lonely and lost and that something was drawing me deeper beneath the surface of my life in search of meaning. There is a hunger in people to go to those deep depths; to know that our lives are sacred; that our hearts are truly capable of love. It is a yearning to be all the we can be. A longing for what is real. ~ Anne Hillman

...But the heart is not a computer that can be upgraded so quickly and easily with the latest version of love.

Love cannot be sealed hermetically inside a tight box like any other on the store shelf; even though the word itself is in public domain, its quality is not.

Love cannot promise a full customer satisfaction garanteed or a whole lifetime of dreams shared refunded, with no questions asked.
Love cannot be agreed to in terms and conditions as quickly as the "Next" button being clicked. These unspoken terms and conditions grow and develop over time until it gets very messy, and no one remembers how such a mess of accusation and anger was able to overshadow their pure ecstasy of love, the spark between two people turning on a new operation system of togetherness for the first time.

Love is always beta; never a golden master.

If love were a computer, constant bug reports and subsequent fixes are the name of the game, and there are many unexplained breakdowns. The heart is too stubborn for explanations and too impatient for forgiveness, and there is usually no one at the tech support line.

Forgive me stan, if I've crashed so often. It's just to hard to boot up to a whole new future without you. I am an empty monitor in search of a "hello. ~ Raymond Luczak

What I saw there explained everything
the reason he had stayed away, why he had come to say good-bye. I can only describe what I saw by its effect on me. Every woman should be looked at in such a way, at least once her life. With a longing that cannot be contained
with love that goes beyond mere feeling because it transforms and-like the verse of the poem he had read
it dissolves, as an offering, a gift. I felt my face flush and waves of knowing suffused every pore, every cell of my being. I was loved. And in that love, I felt beauty
my own, unrealized until that moment, suddenly rising to consciousness in a way that made everything in me come alive to the beauty all around me. Nothing more needed to be said. ~ Nafisa Haji

We left dents on each other. Mine was in her heart, and hers was on my car. ~ J.A. ANUM