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Narrative Lonely Poems | Narrative Poems About Lonely

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Details | Narrative | |

The Special Rose

She sits and rocks, so gently back and forth
Her chin leaning heavily on her chest.
In her hands she cradles, one flat waxed rose
And sighs as pain is swelling in her breast.

Her long grey hair, now tied up in a bun
Is what I see when entering the room.
I helplessly watch, her tear drops flowing,
They look like dew, upon the lonely bloom.

Slowly she looks at a picture nearby,
A glimpse of a smile creases her face.
Granddad with her, stand on their wedding day
With red roses, and a dress of white lace.

After the wedding, she said with a smile,
I took this one rose and waxed it back then.
Granddad had laughed at me wondering why.
I said, for the special memories when…….

And now this old rose, I hold in my hand,
Precious memories kept in my drawer
I pull it out remembering the day
When granddad loved me, and I loved him more.


Written by Brenda Meier-Hans 
11.25.2014
Contest: Encounters with Flowers 
5th


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Lonely Violet Eyes

I'm running late, they will be waiting...
A busy day...so much to do..
I should be going...the clock is ticking
I'll stick my head in, a quick hello
no need to linger, ...and then I'll go

I grab my keys, and make excuses...
She seems confused....unduly quiet 
Oh dear, it's useless...

"You must try a piece of pound cake. Made fresh this morning"...
"I'll put some tea on, no need to hurry"

(The clock is glaring.....I need to scurry....)
(My life is busy....this day's been crazy)

"I must not stay long.....  a late appointment"....  "I have to go"...

         (Oh dear, it's clear, she tries to hide, sheer disappointment!)

.....

She taps her cane, across the floor,  her smile is kind...
She walks behind me, to the door

I have started to say good-bye,  my hand on the knob
"Want to see my violets?" she asks quickly
How could I refuse?? 

We walk to the screened porch near the back of the house.
Sitting proudly in the sunlight of the northern exposure
Eleven small pots of glorious blooming African violets, 
Several shades of pink, purple and blue
The most beautiful violets I have ever seen...

I express my sincere admiration
Her anxious look melts, and turns to delight...
And happiness and pleasure has taken years away from her eyes...

I ask her what is her secret to growing such beauties....?
"Yes...please tell me"......"Oh.....leftover coffee grounds? How interesting".....
           "Please tell me more...."

        We sit together the rest of that afternoon on the porch...
                      Have tea, .........and the most delicious lemon yellow pound cake.....
                         And as we talk .....
                          .... I can't help but notice....her eyes are beautiful
                                               wise, and beautiful....and the color of violets...

___________________________________________________________________


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The Empty Tissue Box

My heart was in such pain
I felt like I was going to go insane
I just don't know what to do 
And my eyes full of tears that distort my view

I fell to my knees and felt the urge
My muscle tighten and pin needles struck me like a surge
My body was warm and with feelings so confused
My mind felt sadness had fused

I could not conquer my fears
I just sat down and fell into tears
When some close to you passes on
It felt like a warmth has gone

So I raised my hand towards a box that was empty with no tissue
I first was embarrass and had a little bit of issue
All my friends hugged me and said sorry for your loss
So now I cry in my bed and toss


April 14, 2013


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William Kite, Sergeant Peppers Lonely Heartclub

 
~~~Being for the Benefit of Mr Kite~~~ An all round performer was Mr William Kite He trained and rode horses, but also walked the rope tight He worked for Pablo Fanqué the Wells Circus owner in 1842 But his work gave inspiration for John Lennon to do. Mr William Kite would never have dreamed. That his skills as a performer would inspire a song theme As he performed on his head, while balancing on a rope A trumpet in his mouth, and he played a damn fine note. When he was with John Sanger, who was equestrian minded William appeared for a spectacular night, the poster has reminded The celebrated horse called Zanthus was even there With Mr William Kite to perform - boy what a pair This poster impressed John Lennon so... It inspired him to write about William and the show Being for the Benefit of Mr Kite, the poster does show Inspired quite a few lyrics as all Beatles fans will know. What they may not know - but I am impressed There is a man called David with whom I am blessed He is the great great grandson of William by whom Lennon was inspired But better than that David is my half brother it has so transpired.
The Beatles Album Cover is "Sergeant Peppers Lonely Heartclub" which potrays the poster of Mr Kite


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Sleepless Nights

Insomnia, familiar friend,
crawled into bed this summer night
so once again, inflamed with dread
I wander now in pitch of dark 
and touch the places, now by heart, that sprawl unstirred by weary minds

This lonely place, where I used to come
where armless grief, and headless doubt
and worry filled the rooms
I know you cold, my land of oz
So ruthless do you change your face
into a place I once refrained

But,  don't pretend to make me fear, toxic robber of my sleep
I've known you much too long
You masquerade in shades of gray
And now I know that dark of night, is not the blackest thing
And room by room, I'll play the game
until the light of day

The shadows magnify your art
and though they magnify my loss of sleep
and while I've tossed and turned in vain
I've lost the lonely albatross
that pulled against the grain

From hooded thresholds I embark
to find a language of the dark
A liquid language of a mystic night, 
that switches on the light

I've walked the halls of ghosts I knew, and those I hope to meet
I've felt the stares, and shared myself, no secrets left to keep
But not tonight, familiar friend
you bask in myth I understand
I'll fill the tasks that need my hands, until the light of day...
---------------


For Leonora Galinta's Contest


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Thunder and Lighting

Love is prominent but lies are still troubling the arch in my back is still aching  thru my core/ To calm to peaceful Today not enough appreciation from you
You make me feel less important.
 How many more audition do I need to perform for you?
 Your Personality changes like the weather negative energy creates “Thunder and Lighting” 
   Your Ego is higher then the altitude in Denver 
You are the weather that changes everyday I never knew when its cold are warm 
Today I was prepared for a Sunny day / But  like the weather you change unpredictably have me puzzled just wondering Why?
 I was not prepared for your  precipitation/ you never allow me to grasp your feelings never appreciate my love  you was only  obsessed with yourself and not my heart.  When its cloudy or rainy outside my vision gets a little blur and  fuzzy when you are around.

Meteorologist Predicate Sunny and warm air with the chances of early morning cloudiness’


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The Hat - Part 1

Travelling on the road for business gets old fast.  The inside of one hotel room starts to look the same as another in any town you name.  When you travel by yourself it becomes even more mundane.  Customers, clients and/or prospects all have their own after-work lives waiting for them and seldom include you in their plans.  So, as you depart at the end of the business day you are on your own, in a strange town.

You do get used to exploring cities, towns and suburbs on your own.  You figure out how to avoid always eating in the hotel restaurant and you master the art of dining alone.  For men like Josh, that usually meant eating at the restaurant bar.  Even though he seldom ordered a beer, wine or other alcoholic beverages, the bartenders were always a willing party to chat with and enjoy some semblance of human interaction.

On this particular occasion, the trip was even more difficult than usual because Josh was having trouble at home with his wife.  Whereas, some may think it a blessing to remove yourself from the situation, it just made Josh feel even more lonely not being able to talk to her to try to work things out.  So, after putting on his happy and buoyant work-face all day to keep the customer satisfied, Josh donned his fedora and walked out the front doors of the high-rise office complex onto the crowded and lonely city streets.

The fedora was a relatively new addition to Josh’s wardrobe.  Not many men wear fedoras any more.  Josh’s wife thought he would look good in the hat and surprised him with it as a Christmas present six months ago.  Josh was still getting used to wearing the hat, but received many compliments on his appearance while wearing it.

Without even bothering going back to his hotel room, Josh slowly strolled around the city streets lost in thought about the situation with his wife and wondering how they might resolve the loss of passion, the loss of caring and the loss of love in their relationship.  Finally, he stepped inside the doors of an enticing pub to get himself some dinner.

The bar in this particular establishment had plenty of stools available to pick from.  Josh sat down on one and placed his fedora on the empty stool next to him.  On this evening, Josh started off by ordering a beer.


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In Dunkersfield Lies A Neglected Grave

In Dunkersfield Lies A Neglected Grave



In Dunkersfield lies a neglected grave
 last vestige of a precious life gave
No massive stone to mark the resting spot
of a simple man that gave all he got

Town people say they knew him so well
 had big secrets he'd never dare tell
One was about a child he'd never seen
 bastard son of a lady named Ilien

Others solemnly swear he kilt' a man
 beat him with that mighty right hand
Hard truth lies somewhere in between
 his life imagined and one he had seen

Ole Stoner Ace was a gambler for sure
 had lots of women, none were too pure
Worked that farm, won on a lucky bet
 hard life even for a tough combat vet

No church did he ever bother to attend
 lived alone with not a single friend
Money sent to pay for nephew's school
 kept his secrets, was nobody's fool

Christmas night he died old and alone
 his savings given away, every penny gone
Good deeds he always kept to himself
 bad maybe but he always was topshelf

In Dunkersfield lies a neglected grave
 last vestige of a precious life gave
No massive stone to mark the resting spot
of a simple man that gave all he got

Robert J. Lindley,  01-23-2015

NOTE:  Poem was written based upon the real life of a friend's uncle. 
A tough old bird that had quite a reputation. Lived a wild life as young man 
and had served time in prison for beating a man to death that had stabbed him in 
the back in a barfight. My Dad knew him well. Told me that he was an upright guy 
that came out of prison and left the wild life behind.
Sometimes life just beats the hell out of you and if you are lucky you still
manage to survive!


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Black Widow

There’s a dark place
Dawn has never been
Only pain can see
Deep within
I hear your candle
Drips of discontent
Your beaded breaths
Night's naked din
Thoughts grow cold
Scent grows dim
Window of hope
Cracking within
I feel your footsteps
Your cheek against mine
Rain bled palms
The emptiness of wine
Rust creeks by
Shadow grows thin
Dust of tomorrow
Deadbolted within
If I learned to speak
If you broke my fall
Could I touch your face
Widow on my wall


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ON THE LONELY STREET

Lonely slowly solely I trailed on a street
I looked back, forward, left and right and there was no one to greet
The street was narrow, long and seems to have no end
Very scary, I trembled, so I called my big brother Ken
I shouted his name, shouted and shouted without taking a pause
My voice only goes, multiplies and bounces back, with no response

Very tired, frustrated and hungry, so I leaned beside a tree
I plucked some fruits, just to quench my stomach’s plea
But hungrier than I, was the lion standing not far from me
It roared and swung its tail looking at me
“An already-made meal, how sweet” It said and smiled at me
“Oh father, make me not its daily bread” I prayed and planned to flee

My feet was not glued, so I asked it to hurry to flee
How fast I ran, I don’t think I can even give you a clue
The lion followed me angrily as I ran and pant on the road
I was tired but could not afford to assume a resting mode
I almost gave up but saw a tree I felt I could climb
It could be a nice rescue so I doubled my steps to climb


Voila! There I was and the lion could only stand to watch
I smiled back at it, as I searched for a better place to lodge
But there was none, as the tree owner seemed not to be happy with me
The cobra raised its flattened head, ready to pounce on me
I was much scared, confused so I felt the urge to pee
I said my last prayer to God, thanking Him for what He has done for me

The cobra jumped at me but unluckily fell in the neck of the lion
It fought the lion and I could only referee to crown the champion
Poor cobra lost the fight and the lion devoured its whole length
But the king of the jungle couldn’t withstand for long, the venom of the cobra
A voice then spoke to my heart, after the hungry lion’s departure
“Fear not my son, even in the valley of the shadow of death”


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A LONELY SOUL

The sky looks dull
the wind feels dry
gloominess, i see 
when i pass by

the trees stay still
and birds sleep long
in this town of gloominess
i once belonged

heading my way home
i cant find that street
where i carved my name
on a huge hollow tree

have they left and gone? 
did they take my tree? 
which i myself grew, with that little seed.

i call out for people
a passing girl i see
and shout to her the utmost
hoping she hears me
no one, ever replies 
how arrogant human being

my heart beats fast
i feel lone and tensed
my reflection i cant see
and the wind i dont feel
people dont reply
and now i know why...

the clouds rain and shower
the birds fly away
people in their houses
and im on my dead way

where the days arent bright
and the star dont shine at night
the wind u never feel
and a heart not capable to heal. 

Manahil shafiq 


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Precious Moments

                       I didn't know hearts could speak until we crossed part
               I was walking home, carrying a heart laden with the grief of my brother’s death
                      My mind straddling from the nostalgia of our bonded brotherhood 
                      to the thought of what the afterlife would deal him.
               You were seated at a secluded corner, carrying your hearts in your hands
               And crying out your eyeballs, wishing if God could bring back your father’s life.

      Upon that lonely and rejected wood we, dejected souls, sat cursing out death tirelessly
         For taking away our beloved brother and father.
           That day, I heard my heart speak for the first time; my heart exploded in awe
             And I felt I was captured under a spell; I saw the aura of glory in your eyes.
        It wasn’t your exquisite awe-inspiring beauty that got me lovey-dovey
        But the natural calmness in your voice as you told me your stories. 
          You reminded me of the fabled Arabian princess.
       My emotions turned into Janus- one reminding me of a lost brother
       The other, quite domineering, nudging me in my veins never to let you go.
          You saw the magic in my eyes; you felt the same way I felt
             We were marveled that fate brought us to meet on a lonely path.

    With your amazing pieces of cakes you re-awakened my dead love life on your birthday
   Your cakes were brilliant; you made them from magnificent range of fruits and spices
   The smells were superb. The aromatic smells of the cakes cooking in the oven and smearing your kitchen sent us to an early bubbly romance. 
   We became lovebirds; your crystal steaming room, neatly furnished with vitality bed,,  made for only two- us, was our love nest; we enjoyed every of our love bites.
    That night, you made a tipsy cake; we dined and wined while the stars watched over us
      We sang to our ears; every single love song we played, we made ours
      We danced while we got intoxicated on our own supply
      And before our eyes the night closed its nocturnal doors.

     Under your winter blanket were two figures, glued in carnal brash adventure, wishing the moment would never end. 
       I prayed tomorrow never to come. Alas! Uninvited, the Morning woke tomorrow up
       Under the blanket, we watched the sun set.
    But tomorrow came Janus-faced; with a vice we never wished for- impassioned jealousy
       It tore us apart; pulled us away; and took away our precious moments
    But I still carry in my heart those precious moments.


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left

when i left
i took a piece of you with me
i thought my leaving would 
make me forget you
but i was wrong cause 
you were always on my mind

my leaving you did not
change anything because
i still did the same things
we used to do together
only you were not here
to do them with me

even when i was gone 
i would see you everyday 
in each step i took cause
our paths were entwined 
together and you were the 
reason i was living anyway
now am left wondering
why did i leave


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Physically and Mentally Abuse

I was born in a world of poverty and soiled life of a third world country
The way I lived till I was five years of age was walls of boundary
These walls had towers of guards that had no heart or care
If a child would try to climb the wall they lose their life I swear

Father had drank and threatened my mother with a knife
My father lost his job and wife and that was the hardship of life
He stopped my mother from taking off with me in her arm
Hoping that my father would ignore and left me be with no harm

When my father went off to drink one night and came home with rage
My brothers stood by my crib and took a beating that set up the next stage
My father had woken up to three scared children half starved and in pain
His final words as he walk away from the orphanage gate live life do not go insane

I was still a baby in the orphanage; the caretakers did not really care about the babies
They stole items and materials those wicked men and maternal evil ladies
They starved all the babies because it cost a lot to keep them alive
As a child of that age I could feel the sins and greed that gave out bad vibes

I was ignorant about what I drank and ate, as I see white maggots move in my bottle
As I see them move I thought about how they were playing and some were hostel
They ate each other to keep each other alive in a manner that took me by surprise
In the back round I hear others throwing things with sounds of painful cries

I got very strong at a young age I was able to start pulling myself up over the cage
My feelings were to see my brothers with strong lungs that I cried out of rage
My two brothers came to see me and sneak food into my crib
The caretaker would find the food in my hands as they grabbed it and hit me on my ribs

As painful as it was I kept eating the food with blood in my mouth as it was instinct
I sometimes laid in my crib dazed and confused with smell of death so distinct
With all my might I kept myself strong and climb the small wall
I finally was old enough to get out of the building and I could hear my brothers call

With tears of joy with short legs that ran as fast as my heart
I ran to my brothers arms and held their hands to have a new start
I grew stronger everyday but more things came into my life in a manner of dismay
If my brothers stay by my side I could smile and everyday their would be okay



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Face of Loneliness

Loneliness affected my waste, due to fire-heart and desire
Craving perfection~A true love story, told in the heat of passion
Majesty to my backbone, ball of fire upon confinement
Emperor to all my fire balls of love, until peace and quiet 
Hit my soul, touched- thus depressing feeling
Running in blood

Silence, in my lust~O greed for another, took away this drive
Energy of love, left isolation controlling my itch
For I hunger no-more, upon lies and friendly companionship
Sympathetic puts a face of loneliness, longing for true love
True love to be so true, yet never abused, has love was used
Upon my heart, cheated in many ways, disobeying under skies
Violate marriage into a face of loneliness

The many nights my heart is left in shadows secluded
Thinking of our love story, laughter and tears
Many nights you held me tight it was bright
Now I go on every night with a fight, has I continue to cry
This love story to you, in the little time left under my feet
Hoping you would see, I never stop loving you
It’s so true

Has I must say good-bye face of loneliness and you
Crowned-headed to my loyalty and beauty
Is no longer, yours love sweet love
I send thus love story upon the wings of a dove
So your heart may know, my roses will stand above
Face of loneliness, will cure the knife left in my back
So please, don’t forget to write back 
Love always, Face of Loneliness


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Dedication to Everyone

I feel that I have found a home in this cyberspace
with full of hearts and ideas in a special place
I wonder of all the people in the world to make me smile
with antics that help me grow in every mile
I do want to say to all of the people with respect
because of all of you my mind is not in a wreck
I would lie if I did not get ideas from all of you
without you my poems would not come true
I bless everyone with care 
with kindness and without dis-pare
I hold my hands high and put them together
with this I bless you with good weather
I do read some of the poems that people put out
sometimes I feel with out a doubt
I feel the pain in the poems that some has revealed
with hopes that they can read with their mind not sealed
I smile a bunch with every word
it is like a music in my head making a cord
I do want you all to know that you have made my day
to be a better day in every different array
I cherish my time with all the people in my heart
the words flow in my mind is just but a start
I'm happy with everyone in PoetrySoup.com 
with hardship that came this cyberspace makes me calm
I cannot choose five cause if I do I don't think it's right
just to tell you that is just my own insight
I thank all for helping me grow with all the poems that are shown
with faith and humor, with views of kindness this site has grown

If I had to say or dedicate my poems to who 
would be the first five who reads my poems with a point of view


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The Rope Never Fully Loosened Up


Conversation with older folks always Makes us think about How complex we are When asked 80 to 90 percent of older people How are they doing? Most replies are the same “Child I am just waiting. Waiting! For what To meet my maker” From the time we were born Plans were made for us About our life What are you going to be? When we grow up And soon has one become an adult Our thoughts about dying Frighten us You are born then you die Life might be simple for some However, it a race to get over unfairness of life I met my third grade teacher last year The first thing she said to me “Did you follow your dreams? A moment in an instant world I felt like she were in control ^ She is much older now However, nothing has change We born, then we die No matter how hard we try The ropes never seem to loosen >/center>


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Son of the Morning

Once, he had the most brilliant light
In Heaven, he'd been the star even at night
The most favored, the most beautiful
He never thought one day he'd become a fool

He was always pure, never felt insecure
Until Heaven borne one special creature
And the angels cried, the angels wondered
What would happen if they are no longer favored?

Angels watched as Heaven gave the man a special woman
My beloved one walked away, flame in his hand
Why the special gift for a man made in soil?
That was when anger and envy started to boil

The most beautiful star sat alone in silence
Heaven's in peace, can he dare start a violence?
Yes, he would for the love of Heaven
So he called all his beloved brethren

War would never do good for anyone
He knew from the sight of blood in his hands
And stared at the ground where his brethren laid
From the bloody battle, my beloved angel turned away

His wings unfurled, made of pure Heaven and glory
They were as black as night, magnificent and lovely
He made once last glance as he begun to descend
He knew he made a mistake he could never amend

It was his nature, no other pleasure than flying
But his heart broke knowing that he's falling
He landed to the ground, broken and wounded
Tears from his eyes, he felt ashamed and abandoned

He stood alone in the middle of the night
His wings dimmed, slowly fading its light
For the first time, he felt the rain on his skin
And for the first time, he shivered from the coldness of the wind

He looked up and saw his brethren
Why did they follow him, he's a Fallen
They bowed their heads, still loving him
So he decided, He's Lucifer and no longer the Son of the Morning


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I FEEL DEPRESSED

My soul is dark
Blackened by my misery-self pity
I feel depressed
What does that mean?

At 30 years of age, I have learnt so much
Yet,accomplished nothing
My life is stationery, maybe regressing
But no forward movement

Progress?
Achievement?
Goals?
Words I so carelessly abuse 
But never apply
I, my own worst instrument of destruction

I am fearful of what I can become
Turmoiled by what I know but so often lack
I, so ambitious, contribute so little
To my life, my dreams, my existence

I, who give so much and expect even more
From those who give even less
I am surrounded by negative souls
Bodies that hold me back from reality

Boredom rules and empty promises govern
I am What? Who?
Where am I going?
What is my plan?
I am alone, so alone
Lost....
Again, I feel depressed.


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Baby Fawn

Im scared
Im absolutely terrified
My knees shake 
Like a baby fawn learning to take its first steps
I want to leap into this wondrous field of possibility
I just don’t want to be dropped like a hot potato 
Like so many other times before
I want to believe and have an abundance of hope
But how can I when I’ve been left with a broken heart
Picking up all the jagged pieces, one by one
How can I believe that this time will be any different?
How do I dare risk it all again
Knowing that im putting it all out there once more


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Nameless

             


Do you see me? I'm standing here 
looking right at you.
I used to be so full of life
however now I just merely exist.

Does anybody out there have the
recipe for life?
Embrace my longing to get out of
this gloom. I want to dance again
and soar with the eagles.

Hello someone please listen to
my cry.I' m fading away fast and I don't
know if I can hold on much longer.


Most of all I would like to know
one thing. Please can you just tell me
my name.





















Written By
Alexis Young








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A Lonely Departure

Yet again, the experience taunts me,
but a willing sacrifice, determined and well thought of.
Suitcases seem heavy, the clothes too much to wear,
and the pain I cannot bear.

Day after day, reminded of that day,
I wish that day never came.
Is it worth it?
Maybe, but my happiness lives in the heart of another.

At last that day has come,
sometimes, as the day leading up, words meander around unspoken thoughts.
Home at last,
I say, I am there and back again.

Honestly, what I know is wisdom,
Inseparable hearts, cohesive bodies and the softest lips I have ever kissed.
There can be no departure,
but this day it feels like that


VRL


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New Neighbors

I am just finishing my morning meditation when I hear my doorbell ring. It actually sounds more like that buzzing sound you hear if you fry a fat fly on one of those electronic bug swatters. On my way to the door I hope it's not my new neighbor who just moved in the first floor apartment below me yesterday. Nobody wants a too friendly neighbor, right? I'm from the "fences make good compassionately mindful neighbors" school of thought about neighborly interdependence, much less intimacy.

I open the door to a 60-something blotchy, ashy, white-skinned man wearing grey polyblend sweatpants, slightly too short, over a pair of black Crocs, screaming "I gave up on myself years ago," and a lighter grey zip up the front, grimy hoody with a ripped left pocket, sleeves pushed up over old-red-haired-man, possibly ex-athlete, thick  creepy hairy forearms.

Before I have a chance to let him know this feels invasive to me, or even say "Hello, who and why are you at my door during my meditation time?" the new downstairs neighbor starts flapping his jaws as if my ears were born to listen to his cheery wisdom.

"Hi, I'm Oliver. My two neurally challenged teenagers, Ivy's the bratty girl, and Daquan is the perfect, but sometimes a little loud, sort of like a really ticked off roaring lion, but you'll get used to it, son, and I are your new downstairs neighbors, and I wanted to meet you right away because I don't want you to freak out and call 911 when you hear us yelling or screaming or crying or jumping endlessly hour after hour because Ivy is really hyper and because Daquan can't speak but often seems to have a lot to bark and roar about what sometimes seems like its just gas and sometimes means he's wet and is trying to tell me I need to put the novel down, or stop writing that dreadful sad poetry, or writing predictable lyrics for country-western songs, much less living them, and sometimes he's just playing Tarzan, yodeling in his make-believe jungle. He's legally blind and uses a wheelchair for school but at home he scoots and thumps around, surprisingly athletic, on his butt, kind of like an upside down inchworm if inchworms had feet and arms, which of course they don't."

I don't have the first clue where this is going but we have no time, and apparently not the least commitment, to discern my own thoughts about Oliver's communication and rationality skills, or lack thereof.

"My husband lives about a mile upriver in our cottage that we are trying to expand before the rest of us move in. He is tall, dark and handsome in an AfricanAmerican kind of way and is usually depressed, at least when he's around us, which I can't really blame him because Ivy is Oppositionally Ordered, I don't know why they keep saying Fetal Alcohol kids have Oppositional Disorder because her capacity to oppose everything is most certainly not out of order, or in any way under-developed. She will pitch a fit if all you're trying to do is get her up from her feeding trough to help her out of a poopy diaper. You would think that somebody was going to eat her food after she has already marked it with her drool. I have no idea why they would call that Oppositional Disorder. No one I have ever met has been more oppositionally wired synaptic than my daughter."

"Anyway, Valentino, that's my husband, he suffers from chronic depression which is too bad because he used to have this really nice soft sense of humor and romance, if you know what I mean, but now he's just quiet and sad and afraid to retire because then he won't have any friends that don't drive him crazy like his family does, including me."

"He complains that we're too loud and stinky and the house is always filthy and my cooking is terrible but he likes to cook and clean so I don't really get it why it's not OK for me to not like to cook and clean, or do the laundry, or the dishes. Do you know what I mean? So, tell me about you."

Finally, a question other than the parenthetical "do you know what I mean."

"Ditto. Except mine are named, respectively, Yang, Yin, and Attila. Do you happen to like Ginseng tea with lots of honey?


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Light House Keeper

As I stand awake
And gaze upon the sea
And the sea in turn 
Looks back upon me 

I look out over 
And see the moonlight glisten
I slowly shut my eyes 
And very closely listen

The waves crash hard 
Upon the rocky shore
I see ships light
And I set the siren to roar

The winds blow in hard 
And I know death is near
The sadness of a lonesome
 Lighthouse keeper is clear

As the winds blow in so fierce
The seas men must act wise and swift
They pull themselves to action
Working hard to keep the ship adrift

The winds blow in strong
As the ship crashes a-shore
The crew scrambles desperately
To survive this dreadful score

For the lighthouse keeper well knowing
His assignment fully now strives
To set out an alert in hopes
Of rescuing these lives

Now as daylight approaches
The search will reveal
There’s no ship to be found
And no bodies to prevail


Written by Neil Ofarrell and Skyler Dawn


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The Lonely Road

Soft winter draped with white;
a lonely wand'rer travelling a road.
Rough tracks of a wheel in the snow
trample the earth with a fearsome mirth.

The lonely footprints follow thee
as you travel the long-lost path.
With shovel in hand, the frozen land
beckons you to the end.

I wonder what led you here
after friendship so forlorn.
Have you forgotten me;
left me here to live in fear?

Cannot understand, not in the least,
but you make the trekk seem peaceful.
Acceptance so prevalent - so unlike you -
what has become of the you so young?

I sit here in silence,
thoughtful under the half-sunk moon.
Together we fell into the frozen sea,
yet only you travel the lonely road.


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Confidence is Key

I am confident, confidence to the ultimate.
I am happy, relaxed, keen and successful.
I will achieve my goals, all of my goals.
No sweat, reverse kickflip, I will drive, I will fight, I will learn.
I am successful, keen to triumph, so will you.
Under the wing, help is always there.
Lovely sky, lovely help from confidence.
I am happy and successful.


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The Musings of a Moron

People usually walk around without realizing how far deep they have sunk in life, amidst the lies that they tell themselves to keep going, to not stop and wonder about what are they doing, blindly and oblivious to how awful things can be. And, as like that, they talk
without pondering for the consequences of their words, that are more like slings and arrows.
No... Actually, they are aware, but most chose not to see it by how it really is and to not change the behavior.

I, for one, want to fool myself, also, in order to achieve their level of ignorance, or to sink even more deeper, so I can find bliss, then.

I want to experience it all, I want to know how it is to go deep inside of the other, to exchange caress and fluids. I and to feel the warmth and the slippery of the insides of the other, then, to go with the flow, all inside.
To say farewell to the crimson flow that stains my soul and my floor and my hands.
The moment of clarity is thin, really brief, so I can spy inside my self and realize I want it all or I don't accept anything.

Even though I yearn for such malice, I want, as well, to nourish feelings for the other, to love someone and let my hatred wither and die.
I want to love again, to feel loved, to live for someone and not for an empty and worthless purpose.
I do not want to pass my genes on, I want just to live a romance, even if it is just a fleeting moment, I do not care. Before my demise, I'd like to experience that...
My mind roams far when I do place those thoughts, those desires above anything else I do imagine 

I think I will stop swallowing the compressed wonders she gave me, they don't work as they should, else I would not wish for those things and I would not wonder about anything  as like that, I would be a puppet on her hands, a soulless puppet, that is what I would be, or am I already? Am I missing the strings or were my strings severed? How does my soul looks like now? Is it so tarnished that its filthy goes to my outer husk to everyone else to see how pitiful that I am? Is that the reason that I don't have my other half and it seems I will never have?

I do not know, I must not care, I must not, for I fathom how spiteful and worthy of punishment I am or I might end on the depths of madness while treading heavily on this dark side of the conscience, where the bliss and joy have no place.
And so, as I am becoming aware of that, I fathom the whys and hows that I am musing about these thoughts and not living them...

A glance at the looking glass show me why I am as I am... A constant reminder tht S.O.B. is...


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Lonely Violet Eyes

Oh dear, I'm running late, they will be waiting at home...
It's been a busy day....still things to do...
I really should be going...
I grab my keys, ...and make my excuses...
I've said hello....but it's late...
        A glance at the clock. Oh yes,  I must be going!

She had tried to insist I have tea...
"You must try a piece of pound cake, ...I made it this morning"...
But I had politely refused...
"Thank you,...but I really can't.... I must be going"....

Oh dear! ... ..She seems a bit disappointed...
But grabs her cane, and quietly walks with me to the door

I have started to say good-bye, my hand on the knob
"Want to see my violets?"  she asks quickly
How do I say no??

We walk to the screened porch near the back of the house
Sitting proudly in the sunlight of the northern exposure
Eleven small pots of glorious blooming African violets,
Several shades of pink, purple and blue
The most beautiful violets I have ever seen...

I express my sincere admiration
Her anxious look melts, and turns to delight...
And happiness and pleasure have taken years away from her eyes...

I ask her what is her secret to growing such beauties...?
"Yes...please tell me"...."Oh....leftover coffee grounds?...How interesting"....
        "Please tell me more"......

    We sit together the rest of that afternoon on the porch...
         She pours us tea....while I taste the most delicious lemon pound cake....
             And as we talk....
                .....I can't help but notice...her eyes are beautiful....
                          so wise, and beautiful....and bright as the color of violets....


__________________________________________________________________________
Revised for Dane Ann's contest "What Kindheartedness Means to Me"


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Lonely Excursion

Lonely Excursion

Place myself in a strangest city,
Feels like I’m a lonely nobody.
Walking back and forth inside this mall.
Can you really tell the world is too small?

Smiles are raging everywhere.
I’m a friendless no one from somewhere.
I hope I could be as happy as anyone.
Wishing that you were here my special someone.

Everyone screamed for joy but I so could not.
Feels like my mouth is decaying like a smelly rot.
Now I know how important it is to have a friend.
You will never be alone in a silent dead end.

Going home now and  just waive this hand.
Better be back to places of white sand.
It was fun while excursion lasted…
Be back soon with people that I've trusted.


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A Lonely Christmas

The foreman and his missus
Had invited me to share
Their supper on this Christmas Eve
And to join their evening prayer.
Their little ones with shining eyes
Gazed at the Christmas tree,
Excited about their Christmas socks
And the presents they would see.
I walked back to the bunkhouse
Beneath a cloudless sky,
Searching to find the Christmas star
Still shining there on high.
The bunkhouse was warm, but lonesome
With no other cowpokes there.
They'd all gone home for Christmas.
I pretended not to care.
Christmas carols on the radio
Brought back thoughts of the star
That had shone down on those pastures
In that Eastern land so far.
Taking off my vest and Sunday shirt,
I threw them on the trunk.
I stripped down to my underwear
And crawled into my bunk.
My day had started early.
I had worked hard with the crew
So they could start their Christmas fun
When all the chores were through.
With no wife nor kids to need me
I had told the rest I'd stay
And watch out for the cattle.
They could have their Christmas Day.
The warm room made me sleepy
And I started in to doze.
Right there before my bugging eyes
The Christmas Star arose.
I was a lonely shepherd
In that land so far away,
Who had been left to guard the sheep
Until the break of day.
I heard the angels singing
And saw the moving star.
I marveled at the wonder
And glory from afar.
The bright star beckoned to me
And angels led the way
To where the future King of All
Lay in the mound of hay.
I wanted so to follow them
But I had pledged my word.
I had to turn a deaf ear to
The messages I heard.
I knew my solemn duty lay
In guarding helpless sheep.
I prayed the Lord's forgiveness but
The vigil I must keep.
The star reflected in the eyes
Of creatures all around,
Waiting for the lonely stray
Or any sheep they found.
I could not shirk my duty,
To seek Him out that night,
But I knew I never would forget
That glorious, wondrous sight.
I had this dream some years ago,
But should that star reappear
Ive hung up my rope and saddle.
I can follow with no fear.

Buy: Joyce  Johnson (Posted in Cowboy Poetry. Com Dec. 2007)