Long Loneliness Poems
Long Loneliness Poems. Below are the most popular long Loneliness by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Loneliness poems by poem length and keyword.
Imagine waiting for something or maybe it’s someone. Someone you look for in everyone you pass by but not someone that is easy to find. Everytime you pass by these people you look at their feet first, see what kind of shoes they have on. Destroyed black sneakers that are stained darker with red. Then you move up to their ankles, boney and sticking out like balls of compressed dirt, filled with worms and insects on the inside. Your gaze moves up to their knobby bruised knees that look like perhaps they’ve been painted on with watercolors. Next your eyes follow upwards to their thighs. You already know that they say it’s just their cat. Past their skirt you get up to their short-cut top, their ribs sticking out from their skin, looking like they’re trying to rip through to be free. You move your eyes up to their scarf wrapped around their neck hiding the bruises from their so-called lovers. Finally you reach up to their face. So sweet yet such a saddened look going across it. Pale white skin with tints of blue from the veins trying to shine through. Yellow and brown eyelids like dying sunflowers in a sad vase left behind and forgotten in a dark room with the blinds shut tight. Eyes that look like drops of golden honey or maybe even sap from a maple tree dripped into them, giving them the somewhat ‘life’ that they long to have. Their nose, glazed with hints of red around the openings from being wiped so many times to get away the excess ‘powders’ that make them feel again what they believe to be called joy and happiness. Lips redder than a blood moon that occurs only twice a year, peeling apart from the hours upon hours of picking and ripping apart with their teeth. Lastly your eyes wander up to their thinning hair which was once before very lucious and thick. Your eyes return to theirs as the passing is almost finished. You can see the worry in their eyes slowly go away a little bit as they find comfort in a stranger's eyes, yours. You smile and they return the expression back. You look back down at their mouth when they smile, their decaying teeth slightly showing right before their mouth goes right back shut to its distressed resting position. After you two pass all the way you start to wonder, do other people do the same? Do other people observe others as you do with everyone, looking for that person in someone else that you forever will long to be with?
Please do not define me by the house I’m living in.
You don’t know where I’m going; you don’t know where I’ve been.
Just because my house is not a mansion or chalet,
Doesn’t mean I can’t be just as happy where I stay.
The circumstances of our lives can change from time to time.
It seems to me that this time, a change will soon be mine.
I’m not sure I am ready to face this task again.
I’m longing for the days of youth and happy times back then.
No matter where I hang my hat, my heart is still the same.
Four walls alone won’t make a home when filled with doubt or shame.
A house is made of bricks or wood, but this I must confide…
A house is not a home unless true love resides inside.
A home should be a place that reaches out its arms to you,
Some rocking chairs on your front porch, where you enjoy the view.
As soon as you set foot inside the door you know you’re home,
Where Home Sweet Home is always best, no matter where you roam.
The welcome mat, it does just that…it makes you feel secure.
It doesn’t matter where you’re at, or if you’re rich or poor.
I think a home can know if you are feeling sad or blue,
And in its way, will do its best to take good care of you.
To me, there's nothing sadder than a house no one lives in.
No family to call its own, and empty rooms within.
Its windows are the eyes that blankly stare, as if to say,
“Won’t you come inside and take my loneliness away?”
The houses where I’ve lived before were happy ones, you see.
I loved each one in different ways and I know they loved me.
I left my mark on each of them in one way or another,
Especially the one I shared with Daddy and my Mother.
This home won’t be as nice as some I’ve lived in, in the past.
Financial strain can dwindle down a bank account so fast.
I have to do what’s right for me, and not for any other.
If you don’t like the place I live, I can’t go buy another.
I hope I won’t be judged by where I live, because you see
Your circumstances, too could change; you may live next to me.
Tornado Magnet, Trailer Trash…call me what you will.
The only thing that matters is the sweet relief I’ll feel.
Although it’s sad to leave this home, I never understood,
The heavy burden of my debt would soon be gone for good.
So if you want to tease me now, I’m sure you will agree,
This “almost” Trailer Trash is very soon to be debt-free!
Yesterday she killed herself by hanging from the ceiling
It carried her weight but she could not
She was everyday troubled by the future worries
All she wanted a good tight sleep, away from all the distress and depression
Hence she ultimately chose to sleep forever leaving just a small note behind
Note to thank her parents for taking care of her
For bringing her to this beautiful world
Note to thank her brother for making her smile
For engaging her in his little games which took away the sorrow for some seconds.
It was not an easy step
It was a step she always wanted to avoid
but couldn’t.
It was not a sudden random step but the one which was very carefully choosen
A step taken by fighting her own thoughts
Fighting her own body
But she chose it
Chose it to completely end
Completely end not only her life
but also her grievances and torments
She fought, fought with the whole world
But at last lost
Maybe she was afraid of getting called a failure
A word which bothered her, haunted her
A word which affected her so deeply that she chose to end herself
A word which terrified her more than death
From getting straight A’s to barely passing her tests
From loving to communicate with everyone to barely speaking to her own parents
From being extrovert to introvert
From loving colours to attaching to black
A colour which she hated but now loved like hell
From having several friends to none by her side
She saw all....
She felt everyting but never expressed.
She tried, tried very hard to make her parents proud, tried every possible way to please them but couldn’t
Her parents gave her all happiness
She got everything she wanted
Her parents barely bought for themselves
But always got the best for her
They spent their hard earned money like water for her smile
But she was not able to make them proud
She was not able to meet up with their silent expectations
No they never forced or pressurized her
They always supported her
But she a overthinker could not see her parents working hard, neglecting their health for her while she could not even make them smile.
No she doesn’t blame anyone for her...
She blamed herself
She thought of herself as a complete failure
A disgrace for her family
A frustrated, defeated and born loser
Incompetent and disappointment
And she left the world with a
smile on her tender face....
Though I'll remember nature's wonders,
sunsets and the breath of spring,
feel the wind blow through my hair
and know the thrill of sunrise cresting.
We see the universe as dancing,
two such different creatures trancing,
we two will never understand
the private notions of the other,
even if we take each other's hand.
Coming close to your destruction
you will see the other side,
who says who has satisfied
requirements for a better life?
Friendship, if we could but find it,
yields the seeds of greater profit,
greater than the seeds of strife.
I now remain just as I ever was.
I shall take my morning walk,
communing with the birds and talking
to myself while reading Kafka,
glancing at the latest headlines.
Dear Stravinsky's 'Rite' is slighted,
(he'll return when ears are righted.)
When I smell a rose I'm prompted
to recall a certain lady, gifted with
a new perception, I must sadly
take exception, for the moment anyway.
The chill of morning, people yawning,
I am tired, the blush of dawning has me
feeling ill at ease, my spirit sags,
I barely reach the second floor.
'When will you return? Is Paris so much more
than you have here?' is my unanswered question.
I drag my heels to breakfast,
listless as a lazy dog, and nibble toast,
my countenance as pallid as a ghost.
A letter would be welcomed.
I shall miss you; there, I've said it.
I am your friend, are you not mine?
Tenuous and strained, two casual
acquaintances who share so little time,
we brush elbows, like strangers passing
on a platform, sharing sidelong glances,
afraid to say hello. I watch you as you go.
Others swore we would be close,
peas in a pod, familiar.
Instead there is no warmth, not yet.
Were you to try we might combine
and nibble toast together, and take
a walk, your hand in mine, and
stammer conversation 'til we knew
there was no reason e'er to rue.
I shall sit with pleasant thoughts of you.
Desperate, I ponder on your death,
scant breath expended twixt the two of us,
and loneliness an ache too harsh to mention,
pen in hand and no one to subscribe.
I'll scarce recall the softness of your skin,
or search your heart to find what lies within.
Should I be bold, or take a gentler path?
encourage you... would I incur your wrath?
If you were to die I'd never know your truth,
and I should lose the vigour of my youth.
I hail thee ruins of Indus Vale!
With scented rhyme, with scented gale
Come on from world of mortal dead!
O come and lively wind inhale!
More ancient than the pyramids
That rule on ancient Egypt land
Thy wild wild eyes, with thy soft lids
They gazed on shimmering Indus sand
I will inhale thy breath in breath
O harken me from vale of death
(11)
I mount uphill, Thy citadel
And stood for hours Stony still
I saw minarets there in row
They fail and bow, all in thy woe
O stupa speak! from yonder peak!
Thy all worshippers where they go
In fog , in sun, while needles run
Thou standing lone in midst of woe!
I haven't seen a single soul
They faded all in mist and snow
Oh lonesome temple don't be sad
They will come and I vow they will
In evening smiles , my heart beguiles
Thy silver meads lay several miles
Thy rich forests of days of yore
Thy ancient seals and gods and kings
O life stop thou, O time come back
In courts I hear the bell that rings
Oh let me breathe, let me for while
Oh fortune for once for me smile
(111)
O lower town, Why thou breakdown
Thy aging speed , may thou slow down
Thy tourists standing by thy sides
All talking of the Times and tides
Thy rooms and wards, o nature yard
All tied devotees thine with cord
They want to dwell in heart of thine
They come and stand and for thee pine
O may phantoms of bygone time
Tell stories them in tune and rhyme
With help and love of Eden Lord
Whose seraphs are thy meadows guard
( ...)
O whistling toys, of girls and boys
In graves of stone why heave thou sighs
O happy ruins with face so fair
From thousand centuries slept thou there
Forgotten by the madding race
Then thou begot a heart sincere
Who wake thee from thy beauty sleep?
From fathoms deep wherest thou live
Wherest thou sob and moan and weep!
I pay homage to Cunningham
Who found thee there in seven three
Then came thy lover Daya Ram
Who thee from heaps of mud set free
Thy lips of ice, why not rejoice
Thou gaze this world with wild wild eyes
(...)
Thy fowls thy sheep, lie half asleep
In meadow green in forest deep
Thousands and thousands years passed by
My far off sky , he smiled he weep
When from thy beauteous Indus plains
The robbers carried thy remains
Thy ancient bricks, all gems of past
Continued
To the proud parents, Anna and Theo
A serious lad, silent and thorough
A clan of preachers
And dealers of art
From the southern Netherlands came Van Gogh
When sent to school, he did not want to go
The separation led to much sorrow
But he learned to draw
Whatever he saw
Sent off to sell art in Paris, Van Gogh
His happiest time, and now in love, oh
Till the landlady’s daughter told him no
Now a broken heart
Surly to sell art
Fired from his job in Paris, Van Gogh
Vincent sought out a coal miners’ burrow
A priest of sorts, but a squalid fellow
The church was appalled
And cursed his resolve
To the asylum for crazy Van Gogh?
His father baffled, on the verge of foe
Art interest, once again, began to grow
Back to school again
This time, in His name
To paint in the service of God, Van Gogh
School’s out, back to his parents he would go
Using neighbors as subjects to ditto
Proposed to his cousin
Which she found disgustin’
Burning his hand to see her, holy Van Gogh!?!
Now off to The Hague, a family furlough
To live with Sien, a boozing bimbo
A man to see ya…
Caught gonorrhea
Three weeks in the hospital for Van Gogh
The pain of loneliness drove him back home
Once again, a failed love with fair Margot
Then Vincent’s father died
He grieved deeply inside
The tragedy further refined Van Gogh
Finally, Vincent’s work was in the know
“The Potato Eaters” made an art show
Just add more color
Said his dear brother
Rubens brightened the dark gloom of Van Gogh
Vincent’s diet: coffee and tobacco
Mixed with absinthe began to take its toll
Though he kept on painting
Then Paris, more training
The end was getting closer for Van Gogh
The masters: Monet, Degas, Pissarro
Cezanne, and Seurat in his studio
Influenced his style
Learning all the while
That time was running out for Mr. Van Gogh
Then he moved to Arles, bad health in tow
Completing great works the whole world would know
“Sunflowers” (in vase)
“The Café Terrace”
Minus one ear, the frail, ailing Van Gogh
With his tattered mind, and mournful woe
Committed to the asylum, Mausole
With his final works
“The Church at Auvers”
“Starry Night” was painted in pain, Van Gogh
“At Eternity’s Gate”, he was sorrow
Wandered into a field, farmer’s fallow
Put a bullet in his chest
In hopes of peaceful rest
“The sadness will last forever”, Van Gogh
ENOUGH!
I felt deaf from the ‘noise’ of information,
constantly butting, buzzing against my mantra of:
“The quieter you are… the more you… hear!”
At present, my lifestyle felt media manipulated:
tv, radio, newspaper, mobile, computer.. ad infinitum!
Besieged by endless emails, monopolizing mobiles,
beset by frenzied yaps from apps!
Enough is enough is….. ENOUGH,
I have to escape from the unrelenting hullabaloo.
Can the human brain endure so much information
and who am I, an individual thinker or group dancer?
However, relief sat just around the corner
as next morning I boarded the flight to Reykjavik.
A three-hour taxi journey with a taciturn islander,
people and communication diminishing by the mile
until finally a twig of a boat out to Ellidaey Island.
Boating and bobbing towards the uninhabited …hideaway,
an isolated jigsaw piece of land
off the southern coast of Iceland,
I appraise a small-boned building clinging to its side
with ‘RIDICULOUS’ scribbled all over it.
Someone had said Iceland was a niceland
where you could float free, peace and tranquillity!
But someone hadn’t warned me about…Mr Loneliness
Who was soon tapping me sharply on the shoulder.
So here I sit, three days into my week’s stay
in the island’s lodge, dubbed the world’s loneliest house,
where the only neighbours are passing ships and puffing puffins.
No internet, no tv, no electricity, no running nor strolling.. water
just remote, alone and contemplating my countenance
while wondering if God is lonely too!
Suddenly, clouds bump and bruise against each other
as they race away before the darkness snarls in.
Soon, night has sent in its stormtroopers
who land and splinter into shadow groups
while wind angrily sprints up to the house
bombing it with blockbuster punches.
Then rain happily joins in, machine-gunning the house
until the building begins to stagger and stumble.
I check my face and it is still in the same place
but I sit timorously trembling, tyrannised and terrified
while my eyes follow the house’s dimly lit path
as it wags its tail to the cliff’s edge
and jumps into the void of darkness.
But this poem is a broken wrist, with a twist,
as suddenly, my bones brittle and inside myself…..I faint!
What possibly could happen now?
But there it is..
the knock at the front door!
Ian Souter
Oh! Why didn’t I know earlier?
That I was being trodden into pain,
The pain that could leave my heart in unamendable pieces,
Pieces that are so difficult to forget the past,
The past that is now the painful present.
I believed and I believed and I believed,
Until my heart was in obsession of belief,
I believed and let my thoughts follow,
Follow as I digested each word that came from your mouth,
Whispering into my ears how ‘truly’ you loved me.
I believed when you shouted the word ‘affection,’
Into my ears, that were always there to listen to your lovely voice,
I believed when you whispered into my ears, “I love you,”
Yes I believed those words which made me crazy,
And slave to your false love.
I believed you when you promised to be with me “forever,”
I believed you the way Adam believed Eve,
And blindly he became, only to be driven out of Eden,
Because of the taste of the forbidden fruit,
I believed you too, and now I am out of that “paradise”
I believed you with all my soul,
Devoted myself to you as a slavery who seeks freedom from his master,
Only to be betrayed by the wrong perceptions of his master,
I believed you as a sinner, who partakes Holy Sacrament for redemption,
Only to find himself still entangled by the pains of his unforgiven sins.
I believed you with the whole of myself,
I believed you when you kissed me with your soft sweet lips,
Not knowing that it was Judas kiss that betrayed the Son of Man,
And that kiss also subjected me to unending pain,
That kiss… I wish I couldn’t feel your lips,
Yes, I believed you…
Followed you like a lost sheep that needed guidance and acceptance,
Decided to follow your path, because I saw love in you,
Love that blinded my heart,
And let me head to a destination of sorrow and long suffering.
I believed you my Love,
Nights never passed without a dream of your love evolving in my mind,
A day never passed without an image of your perfection streaming in my thoughts,
Every minute I loved you, cherished you, adored you,
But you have betrayed all my beliefs…
Left me to nurse the wounds of my dumb beliefs.
If only I would have known,
Known that my beliefs were bloody lies,
Lies that encrypted my heart to your slavery,
Slavery of “discipleship” in the name of love,
Love that only was infatuation,
I wouldn’t have said “YES.”
Just a belief?
I wish…
Memories tumble through my mind,
rolling aimless, some have been...
missing for a while.
I try to fill in the blanks. Others,
I sweep into already dusty corners.
You know, the ones far easier forgotten.
Tumbleweeds...my memories
have become tumbleweeds.
I take snapshots of the cherished ones,
file them away
giving them a home...
before they blow away in the savage wind.
I yell out to my own echoing voice -
"Did I tell you my mom liked to dance?"
"Yes", I remember.
I hear her music, rock-and-roll,
her long hair bouncing with each step.
She doesn't dance anymore...
I see my step-father, hands dirty, working
always working, but sometimes
stopping to joke or tease.
Moments gone...memories fleeting...
begging them to stay
a little longer or at least
visit my dreams.
"Did I tell you my dad played drums?"
"Yes", I remember.
I hear rat-a-tat-tat in my head,
primal beats, rhythmic beats -
complex man, gentle soul...
I would sing at the top of my lungs while he played.
He never seemed to mind my shrill, little girl voice.
I miss him, I miss his drums. Music is not the same.
Nothing the same.
I close my eyes and another memory
blows through empty spaces.
My brother is racing his bike down the street FAST.
He is about ten, all skinny legs in his shorts.
"Where are you going?" I call after him, too late.
"Don't go, please don't go!"
He is gone and I wonder if he was ever here, there,
anywhere within my reach.
Some do go astray, I remind myself.
Missing memories...missing love -
loneliness finding a home in my heart
when least expected...
"Wait, come back", I yell to him. "I'm still here."
Ruminating, I ask myself if we ever know,
really know, the ones we love.
No, not really. I remember.
Frantic, I reach for the tumbleweeds, grasping.
I reach for my two earthly fathers who are long gone...
I see them, each so different yet loved. Then,
they blow away, missing again.
I chase them futilely. The savage wind still blows,
across grains of desert sand...
I will never know why, never know.
Tumbleweeds...my memories have become
tumbleweeds
blowing in a savage wind.
* one of my favorite early poems (maybe it doesn't seem happy, but
it includes some of my favorite memories)
By Rhonda Johnson-Saunders
March 2, 2012
Second Place in Chris Aechtner's Let the Masks Fall Contest
I'm making this plea for your love to return
This is a hard lesson I had to learn.
I learned a woman like you, is a precious jewel
Meant to be tresured, not meant to be ruled.
I tried to change you & did not suceed
Because you were perfect as you were & exactly what I need.
You tried to show love & I did not recieve it
You said you would leave me & I chose not to believe it.
I thought you'd always be here & you'd never go away
My ego told me don't worry, she'll be here, she'll stay.
But I was wrong, you left & took my heart with you
Now I'm lonely & sad now each day I miss you.
I sit here so lonely, broken & scared
Because I didn't say I Love You & acted as if I didn't care.
You wanted a man to love you & ADORE you
I didn't take heed & chose to ignore you.
You wanted love, affection & a little of my time
I didn't do those thing, because my time was mine.
You wanted a man to love God as you you do
I didn't make time for that, now we are through.
Now I pray to the same God, you tried to lead me to
Begging & pleading him to give me back my love that was so true.
I ask him to please return My Leesah back to me
But he ignores me like I did him & doesn't hear my plea.
All I need is just one more chance
To prove my love, another shot at romance.
Being without My Leesah is an unbearable pain
My heart is heavy, I wonder if it could take this strain.
I can't take the misery nor the loneliness too
My heart is on fire, I have no idea what to do.
I can't bear losing you, it's hard to be alone
This plea is is my last effort, please come home.
I can't bear the pain & the hurt is so great
I just hope & pray that my plea is not too late
I lost my lover, my wife Leesah, my soulmate.
I'll love you the way a man is supposed to
My heart will be open & never closed to you.
I'll never ignore you or take you for granted
A new seed of love in my heart will be planted.
Things will be better than ever, I know this for sure
My love will be HONEST, real & oh so pure.
I'll love you with every inch of my heart & I will never desert you
I'll always cherish your love & never again hurt you.
This is my promise as God as my witness
I ruined our union & I beg for forgiveness.
Leesah I'm sorry for all the pain I caused
Believe me when I say
Come back to me & I'll love you better than ever
Each & everyday.
Leesah I Love You!