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Solitaire Solitude

William J. Jr. Atfield Avatar William J. Jr. Atfield - Premium MemberPremium Member Send Soup Mail  Block poet from commenting on your poetry

Below is the poem entitled Solitaire Solitude which was written by poet William J. Jr. Atfield. Please feel free to comment on this poem. However, please remember, PoetrySoup is a place of encouragement and growth.

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Solitaire Solitude

Solitaire / Solitude

Solitude will be my recognition, my fame !
Solitude is my time to claim !
Solitary is my adopted name !
Solitaire is the name of my game,
to play away these hours of mine
until there is nothing left of my time
on this plane or of this rhyme.

B. J. “A ” 2
October 19th 2001

July thirty first 
Two thousand and one 

An end has come, to times filled with the recordings of sounds 
from a glorious, ancient past.
Time has come to empty the mind of what hounds,
time to indulge in a lengthy  fast.
Time before now

There is beauty, where there is light, 
but, it has become obvious !, that night 
is not a place of beauty, peace or rest 
for a man, who, out of his life, has made a mess 
of troubles, troubled thoughts and deep reflections.

And like me , they get lost in the quagmire, 
and at the cost of my soul on fire, 
burning with flames of pain, in depressions 
grip, without the ability to solve, that which is, 
trouble, which my lot in life is.

B. J. “A ” 2
July 31st 2001

Another Time before now
My heart cries out, with each lonely tear drop 
I realizing that, of my life, I have made a flop 
and in the process, lost little pieces of mu soul, 
forever washed away, evaporating into thin air.
What a heart wrenching thing for one to know,  
to believe about his life, to believe it is not fair,
that all they were – those tiny pieces that formally
fit together and made up the whole – a family 
that was my soul, never again for me to know, 
for tear drops nourish not, nor will they make grow. 
Only lubricate the path, the way of letting go.

B. J. “A ” 2
July 31st 2001

Still another time 
There is this killing chill, filling the air
that leaves me in a deep state of despair 
as my young, fair haired Daughter, 
seems to have forgotten all I had taught her 
as she makes a prisoner of my heart and soul, 
with her vengeance, caging my spirit in a gaol
of her spite, as the might of her hatred encases, 
dictates the course of my life, as it races 
towards thoughts of her young son, 
my beautiful, second Grandson, 
who, like her, is lost to my touch, my embraces 
due to the bars she has erected, the distance she places. 
Me, my life, they have become the walls she builds 
that grow ever thicker, wider, more distant, higher, 
an impenetrable wall of searing, blinding fire. 

B. J. “A ” 2
July 31st 2001

And still another

I do not know where it is ?, that I might be
if it were not for my dark haired, lovely, Melanie.
I do not know what it is, that my mind would see ?,
in this life if it was not for my youngest,
thoughtful Daughter, who deserved the best, 
deserves much, much better from me.
For now, it seems, she just wants to be free !

B. J. “A ” 2
July 31st 2001

And yet another

The sleepless dreaming of humankind, 
is to leave the waking nightmare behind,
reach deep down inside, to touch and find,
all the stuff of its soul. Its heart, its mind
so that in the end mankind will stand high and shine.

B. J. “A ” 2
July 31st 2001


My girl child,  a beautiful woman so far away
fills my eyes, fills my thoughts every day.

Her life I left behind, let slip away so long ago.
How she feels ?, who she is ?, so little do I know.

My love for her I try, I hope I do show ?
Does she see?, can she feel it grow and grow ?, 

as the years left behind, lost, stow
away, enlighten me one day to all I have missed.

B. J. “A” 2
July 31st 2001 

As the son stands

Casting shadows upon this land,
I know not where I stand,
where I might fit in, or who I am.

There is no one to lend a hand
as the cold winds wipe me from the sand.
Not a trace !, find not, I can ?

Do I fly with the sun ?,
from the shadows do I run ?,
or is it ?, with them I walk

passing over others, never to talk.
Or do I stand ?, with the land
as the sun passes over head 

The shadows, a blanket for my bed.
Laying there, sleeping is my soul 
and in that state of reverie, never to know ?

B. J. “A” 2
July 31st 2001 

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  1. Date: 11/29/2013 11:57:00 AM
    Reading your work makes me think of my Dad. I am one of three children and the only one who maintained a relationship with him. I must say that I am glad I made that choice.

    Atfield Avatar William J. Jr. Atfield
    Date: 11/29/2013 1:15:00 PM Block poet from commenting on your poetry

    Good morning Richard : And hello to you, fellow Canadian – Prairie Province ?, Saskatchewan ?, Manitoba ? Thank you for your interest, your understanding and candor. “ This is heart breaking ” yes it was ( for a long, nine plus, silent years ), “ Reading your work makes me think of my Dad. ” and there are a million stories like ours, but that all changed with a visit, a birthday celebration and another visit tomorrow – all within this past month - that has brought her out of her cocoon, her self-imposed prison and back to my little family of three Beautiful Daughters, she even contacted her mother. Wonders amaze !, and never cease ! “ You might enjoy my poem "Dancer". ” and I did as well as “ Fate Full Dancers ” and when I can find the time, I will explore more . B. J. “A ” 2 ( Bill . )