Loss Lonely Poems

These Loss Lonely poems are examples of Loss poems about Lonely. These are the best examples of Loss Lonely poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

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Details | Free verse |
I have always been alone
I have always been the lonely one
In the corner, quiet and silent
Inside of dreams to come

So with determination
I build and build and build
Possessions compounding
Wealth is the only scorecard I know

Now, it’s amassed, and I have it all
So with pride and confidence
I do what anyone should
I must purchase a possession of my desire

I read in the paper of a sale very fine
A Garage sale of many old antiques divine
Within it all is treasure so very deep
A broken heart of golden hopes

I am not sure how one goes about
Such a purchase, of infinite value
I am succumbed with depression and sadness
For all my wealth

I have not the currency to buy this heart
So I burned my money that very night
I learned, there is another currency of delight
I wrote words and music and poetic verse

My Snow White she refuses to awake
Even my heart at the bone it shakes
Vaso the empty vessel of life
Learned there is no currencies at all

To acquire a broken heart

Copyright © arthur vaso | Year Posted 2016




Details | Elegy |
I’m tired
I’m Physically and Emotionally tired
I don’t want to be the strong one anymore
I can’t this time
I don’t know what to do Daddy
I need your help down here

I can’t get back in control of my emotions 
I’m having a hard time dealing with your absence
I’m having a hard time standing by myself
I need your help Daddy

I’m broken and lost without you Daddy
I need your will to want to carry on
I need your strength to over come this
I need your strength to stay standing
Your courage to fight back again
I need your help 

Please Daddy I’m at a loss
How am I suppose to do this
I need your guidance 
I need you to guide me back
To whom I was before
I need your help Daddy
I need your help






Copyright © Sabrina Niday Hansel | Year Posted 2013

Details | Rhyme |
Winds may howl,
Wild animals growl,
The forest grows cold, 
For I am lonesome and old
As the sun peaks through the clouds, 
I hear your soft, young voice so loud!
And though you speak dead man's lines,
You speak them with majesty divine
As I am wrapped in  my woe,
I only want you to know...
...that roses die black and violets lose blue,
But I will never die
And you know I love you!

Copyright © Laura Breidenthal | Year Posted 2013




Details | Free verse |
I took a book out of the library
where it must have stood amidst
its brethren for 25 years, unused,
unborrowed-- I know this because
its pages were crisp, never bent
by a greedy reader, and yellow
from time's effect, a drug that
ages books as it does readers....

Someday I guess all books, both
the virgins and the overly used,
even abused, will be no more: all
replaced by sterile zeros & ones,
and my future self will never again
have the soft pleasure of turning
endless pages, feeling tangible
the words of some distant mind.

Copyright © L. J. Carber | Year Posted 2017

Details | Free verse |
sometimes i talk to myself, 
my mind is racing,
i dont know what to do...
so hard to explain.
depression isn't a stage
or a faze some kids go through
it shatters you...
i saw it all. 
she cried silent in her bed,
blood stains covered her favorite jeans,
her every shirt,
long sleeve ofcourse...
she suffered through it all with few people to call friend
and more to call enemy
even more to say where quite dissappointed....
FAT
her first name in school,
not started by a bully
or a mean rival,
but by her sister, 
and it echoed through her soul,
repeating in her mind... over and over again,
like the ripples of still water
when a pebble is dropped
flash frozen in time
repeating,
over and over again...
It was the first name they gave her,
millions where created over the years,
some unique
some repeating again, just as the first had..
gothic they called her,
emo, fat, ugly....worse things.
but in her mind, things where worse.
everything was repeating,
over and over again,
finally she believed it. 
she asked for help, from everyone
tried to explain to parents she wasnt well,
got called a psycho for asking to see a theripist,
not from a teacher,
not from a class mate,
but from her own father, who wouldn't, couldn't,
believe there could possibly be a thing wrong....
finally, crying, she confessed her bloody secret to a teacher.
rather then giving her time,
she is sent back to class crying her eyes out, as if she wherent going through enough...
she is sent to the principals office a few minutes later, after breaking down in class...
the princlipal says she needs help,
sends her and her dad for a risk evaluation,
her dads crying as she shows him her cuts...
they walk into a hospital room, 
it smells of chemicals and hand sanitizer,
the lady at the desk gives her a smile.
then she goes into a room with a lady,
her cheeks are sunken in and shes wearing way too much makeup,
the girl is gaging on her perfume,
and she looks really intimidating....
her dark brown hair looks dead and flat
even though its a bit wavy, 
and she wears somewhat of a mocking frown.
asks her all these questions,
is mommy beating her?
no
is daddy raping her?
no
is she doing drugs?
not alot
is anyone beating her?
pass...
did anyone molest her? 
pass....
oxcarbezapine, trazadone, citalipran, clinazapam, colonipan,
valium, lithium, more.......
and thats what they gave her,
more... 
some numbed the pain
some brought it out
tearing through her organs,
she became an addict by the time she was fourteen....
over dose after over dose
some for pleasure
some for pain,
gashes on her legs getting deeper,
this time she didnt tell a soul,
not even those she had come to call friends....
wakeup she screamed in her head over and over again
as she dropped weight like it was nothing....
you cant controll it she argued as things became worse. 
at age fourteen she attempted suicide,
she didnt quite succeed.
the medication took away her aappitite....
she liked it
she hated her body
hated herself
felt out of controll
found a new way to cope
as she shoved tooth brush after toothbrush down her throat
to keep her body from nuitrients...
as she whent weeks and weeks spitting food into napkins and making excuses 
I ate at my friends house....
spoken as a whisper
heard like a sentance
echoing in her mind over and over again,
along with that word, all the words,
FAT!!!!!!
ugy, anoying, stupid, fake, worthless, nothing...
one bite she would say
rocking back and forth
craving nothing but food
her body racked with hunger pain
one bite and there she was again
FAT!
over and over and over again
back to a toothbrush
this time she sees blood
she saw her ribs
she saw her bones,
it wasnt good enough,
she almost died, again....
choking on this deep dissappointment in herself,
gaging on everything they where pushing down her throat, 
their words, and their insults, their criticism.... their drugs
all shoved down her throat like candy
and just as she was was trained to do she swallowed despite the bad taste
or the hurt
or the fact that at the rate she was going she would be dead soon...
and you know why? 
because daddy yelled 
and couldnt accept what was happening
not because he wanted to hurt her
but because it hurt him,
and she let him believe,
because she could take the hurt if it meant he didnt have too.
because mommy didnt want to sit in her room all day
smoking weed
doing nothing,
practically having us raise ourselves,
she didnt mean to take anger, or frustration or hurt out on her daughter
she suffered everyday in her solitary confinement,
and from a young age she accepted her bedroom was the cage
 her mother had created for herself.
because sister didnt want to effect her the way she did
she was just frustrated
fed up with the way things where
scared, she needed someone to take her cruelty
and to help heal her pain...
because people in school
who where so cruel
had to have learned from somewhere
and she wasnt going to play into their games,
and they knew she was an easy target
because she would never attack someone so weak
and she accepted her suffering was a sacrafice
to help all these people....
to help her dad,
her mom,
her sister,
every person who was beaten abused or hurt
 and felt so weak at home they wanted to feel strong in the one safe place they had.
because depite the fact she had died inside,
and almost passed away on the out,
it was a saccrafice she was willing to make
so that no one else would have to feel that kind of pain,
and they all inflicted it and broke her down'untill there was nothing left but a shell
of somthing that could have been
and never had the chance
and why? 
because she would take it and wouldnt strike back,
because sometimes "just taking it"
isnt so much about the weakness not to do anything
but about the strangth not to hurt others the way they hurt you...

Copyright © cassie hellberg | Year Posted 2013

Details | Haiku |
A void of Facebook
Creativity dies here...
Procrastination!

Copyright © Dan Keir | Year Posted 2013

Details | Limerick |
Our friendship here had only just started
then you left me alone, broken hearted
you're gone but not forgotten
now life it seems so rotten
ever since the sad day you departed.



We miss you, Chan :)



This was my sadder take on the "poet who broke my heart" contest theme.





Copyright © Kelly Deschler | Year Posted 2015

Details | Ballad |
That disturbed child
The teen girl with no friends, 
and is rejected by her loved ones
She feels broken inside,
like theres no other choice
She takes the iron razor, 
she puts it to her arm and hopes the pain will fade,
but in the end it only makes her feel worse
She does this to herself not because she is sad, 
but because she doesn't think any one cares
She thinks 
What if I put this razor to my throat,
and ended my life
Would they care then?
She feels like no one cares 
What she doesn't realize is, 
if she died a river of tears would come,
even faster then the blood would run from her
If she only knew life can be brighter 
If she would only see, 
that she is loved
That disturbed child, 
We miss her
and theres no getting her back
What could we have done
Was there any changing her mind
Only God knows

Copyright © Trevor Bain | Year Posted 2012

Details | Free verse |
The moon so bold seems cold
with a halo of midnight glow
I sit mesmerized as the night grows old.

I bleed still, even after all these years
and I wait again through the night
aching in the depths of my soul
that no other seems to know
the Loneliness that has become my companion.

In the darkness we wait and confide in the other
our deepest fears as memories fade
in and out each season of change
            the nostalgia tempers the wars of pain
this tempestuous foe of ours
         wails at the gates of midnight
howling the warble of humanities last grace.

How the comfort of minds and hearts
turn from light to deep dark in the face 
of eternities long time clock...

I ache with wanting, with need and passion
          it is a lie that time heals and wounds scar
each night is fresh like the first
                              when I faced realities shock.

Who can wait with me?
Who can hold this hound at bay?
Who can cherish what little love left in me
             and make the broken whole?


I ache to be loved again as the love that burns
and waits inside of me. 
Who can comfort this emptiness and fill the void
                that so many leavings have left?

Cherish and love to honor and protect
             but who can slay these demons that hold my heart in wrath?
Who will walk the sulfur clouds of hell to save my mind
     and deliver my world to the gates of heaven
      with life, not death bridging the distance of pain?

I sit and wait at the floor of the moon each night
waiting for that bridge to carry me yonder,
      this moon who hangs heavy and ripe with the yearning of my soul
with clouds aglow as if I could sweep them across a canvas
   with the brush held in your hand

I rage at her as I wait, but still I wait and weep
as Loneliness and I keep each others company
wishing the clouds of that great moon could truly create
a way to find the lost, a pathway to home, lit by the legacy our love.



Internal rhyme
Imagery
Assonance
Alliteraton
Repetition
Synesthesia

Copyright © tara jennings | Year Posted 2013

Details | Rhyme |
Pal
Bob had been a lonely man ever since
His wife of fifty years had passed.
“Lord, let me join her.” he would pray.
“Let this day be my last.”

Each day, he went to the cemetery,
Just a short walk down the street.
After their talk, he would water her flowers
And hear passers-by whisper, “How sweet.”

One gray and misty morning,
He had hoped for sunnier skies
To plant fall bloomers at her graveside;
But there, to his surprise…

Stood an old dog beside her stone;
Thin and dirty, but he struck a handsome pose.
He whined as Bob approached, as if to say,
“I could use a friend, you know.”

He sat calmly as Bob planted flowers,
Carefully sniffing each one Bob put in place.
After the last one was planted, he sniffed it;
Then turned and licked Bob’s face.

Bob smiled. “I had a dog when I was young…
Pal…he was a mighty good one too.
So, if you don’t mind old fella,
That’s what I’ll call you.”

Pal may have been an old dog,
But he was smart and handsome in his way;
So they made a deal, Bob would give him a meal
And a bath, if he decided to stay.

Pal loved his bath, then rolled in the grass.
He slept on a blanket in the den.
In the night, he dragged it next to Bob’s bed. 
He intended to be Bob’s best friend.

Pal was such a good dog, housebroken too;
Never made a mess or got in trouble.
He knew about newspapers, slippers and Frisbees;
And when Bob called, he‘d come on the double.

Yes, Pal gave Bob’s life new purpose.
A special bond of friendship was cast.
And never again did Bob pray, 
“Lord, let this day be my last.”

For twelve years, the very best of friends,
Together night and day;
And so it was, until one evening,
Pal quietly passed away.

Bob held Pal in his arms and wept.
“Oh, Pal…my best friend…you saved my life.” 
He caressed Pal as he reminisced;
Then, sometime in the night, Bob joined his wife.

The next morning, an old woman,
Tears welling in her sad and lonely eyes,
Brought fresh flowers to her husband’s grave;
But there, to her surprise….

Stood an old dog beside the stone, 
Thin an dirty, but he struck a handsome pose.
He whined as she approached, as if to say,
“I could use a friend, you know.”

He sat calmly as she took old flowers
And put fresh ones in their place. 
He carefully sniffed the fresh ones,
Then, turned and licked her face.

She smiled through her tears.  
“I had a dog when I was young...
A good one too.  His name was Pal.”

Copyright © Robert Candler | Year Posted 2014

Details | Free verse |
A truth in rage of insult furrows my mind
For it is only an offense given to me by myself
In the mouths of others far innocent than I
I feel the tears trickle down my cheeks
For I have surfaced into an ugly mistake
I am always inadequate in this brain
I try to shine like the advice of grace given
But confidence rarely rears its head my way
There’s a sort of shade blocking its way
A shade that darkens everyday

That very shade led me to believe my feelings are wrong
That I will never belong so long as they are not controlled
I must be careful—for the lines of love and lust run cold
I hate myself truly this night
And no one but myself will give me the right
The very right to degrade my every being
Because you are not seeing what I am seeing

There is no point
My lines run cold
Can I be so bold as to say
I still love with a pang of indistinguishable doubt 
All feelings enter in
As my truth blurs and checks out

Your words pierce me so deep
I cannot describe the pain I feel
God it hurts so bad
It can’t be real

Much like the love I have come to embrace
The very love that links to your face
Tears don’t give it justice

It can’t be real
Much like the love I will never face

Copyright © Laura Breidenthal | Year Posted 2013

Details | Narrative |
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

Copyright © Reynaldo Mast | Year Posted 2013

Details | I do not know? |


I've Scribbled This Song For You...


I'm wasting my days,
my empty nights too,

I should have held on,
but I simply lost you,

now I stagger along,

wearing broken smiles,
in between hell and you,
there's a million miles,

yes, I should have kept,
you close to my skin,

soaking your warmth,
but you were laughing,

at my foolish grin...


now I'm all broken,
and torn apart,

but what the hell,
I was always late,
for the tolling of the bell,

and now...

now I stagger along,

wearing broken smiles,
in between hell and you,
there's a million miles,

so kiss me now like you once did,
I'm tired of being so carefully hid,


la laa laa la laa laa laa...


(repeat to fade)


:-)

Copyright © Scribbler Of Verses | Year Posted 2013

Details | Terzanelle |
Night has come, the fog is slowly wreathing
Crying soft, a form is moving forward
Now she walks through mist, 'tween shadows seething

Past the ancient walls she pushes onward
Mid the shrouded stones she pours her sorrow
Crying soft, a form is moving forward

Now she weeps amid a ruined palace
*Starting when the distant forest trembles
Comfort is not nigh to ease her sorrow

In her hands she bears a broken chalice
She that once was rich is now the poorest
Starting when the distant forest trembles

Deep within the shadows of the forest
Wars were fought that changed her life forever
She that once was rich is now the poorest

How could men her castle cruelly sever?
Night has come, the fog is slowly wreathing
Wars were fought that changed her life forever
Now she walks through mist, 'tween shadows seething

Day is dawning
Light scatters shadows
What hope will morning bring?


- *Starting is a sudden motion or spasm caused by being alarmed. -
-  The part of this poem that is in Terzanelle form is also Trochaic Pentameter, meaning that it is ten syllables per line and alternating between a stressed and unstressed syllable the whole way through. -
- First place in contest, "Terzanelle Fantasy with a Questionku Chaser".

Copyright © Isaiah Zerbst | Year Posted 2012

Details | Rhyme |
I saw a tree crying in the rain
A woman hurting with no pain 
The wind blowing but I couldn't 
prove it
The earth spinning but I could 
not move it
The song itself could not sing
The thought it travelled with no 
wings
The words alone could not 
speak 
The gauge could measure but 
could not heat
The ocean roared but could not 
rain
The valley moves not yet isn't 
lame, and a deck of cards can't 
play a game
A knife can cut but can't taste 
the meat
And a drum can never hear a 
beat
yet a broken heart can keep on 
beating
Fall leafs can fall without 
leaving
But can you cry without your 
tears?
Can time go by and not make 
years?
Can you lose your mind and 
still be sane?
Can she hurt . . . and not feel 
pain?
And a tree can't cry in pouring 
rain
But looks can be deceiving and 
memories can fail
Perhaps it was the woman 
crying in the rain, and the tree 
that could not feel
For who's to say what's really 
real?

Copyright © Kelly Crenshaw | Year Posted 2013

Details | Free verse |
Hounds from Hell take their toll on your soul
as you walk the mainstreet of mainstream
and watch Saturn and Neptune dance to a simple tone
of silence in the outer space.
As you sit in the middle of the world
alone;
free yourself from the sense of hopelessness,
only see yourself in the mirror of deception
as your reflection laughs at you and looks right through you,
and doesn't have remorse for what it says or does to you.

Hounds from Hell take your soul,
chock you, cut of your air,
the smog and fog blind you in the city of ash.
Hear the hounds from hell howl for your soul,
go now, barracade your soul behind sins and temptation,
Alone, listening to your soul die away,
watch love go away from you, with suitcase in hand,
picture frames broken and collect dust through the sands of time.
Till the cleaning lady comes on Monday, to clean the mess
that you left behind.
You are gone, without a trace of ever returning.
Looks of the Hounds of Hell came for you and stole you from
comfort and warmth,
till the sorrowed heart cracks and pain spills out
and you look at it all spill out over the floor.
The Hounds from Hell have paid a consumable harmage to you,
and your rich soul of sorrowness burns away... slowly.

Fear darkens souls,
innocent souls burn with a new day,
a slumber that has no end
with nightmares haunting every light of hope
there is left in this desolate Wasteland.
Fear and darkness tears a hole in the darkened universe
and we all go to hell to see the Hounds,
who come for us all.
The graveyards fill,
and death guards the tombstones of the dead,
and the flowers burn away on the feet of the dead.

-10/14/2013-

Copyright © Chris Boskovski | Year Posted 2013

Details | Pantoum |
I see your sparkling eyes among the stars
Your voice calls out to me upon the breeze
Although it seems that it has been many years
I can remember like it was yesterday

Your voice calls out to me upon the breeze
A melody that somehow pricks my heart
I can remember it like it was yesterday
All those moments will not be lost in time

A melody that somehow pricks my heart
You were my joy I held you to my breast
All those moments will not be lost in time
Now you reside in the place where angels sing

You were a joy I held you to my breast
I watched you grow from a boy to a man
Now you reside in the place where angels sing
This world could not hold one as special as you

I watched you grow from a boy to a man
Although it seems it has been many years
This world could not hold one as special as you
I see your sparkling eyes among the stars



I have a friend who recently lost her son and I am
writing this poem from a female perspective.

Copyright © Richard Lamoureux | Year Posted 2013

Details | Verse |
Beyond the landscape of a different time, where I must go alone, you have watched me, as the sun goes down, and when the golden moon appeared. Nights have unfolded as a fragile place. Paths I've walked have been the same. But love, is still untouched across the cold, beyond the landscape of a different time
________________________________________________________ 10/27/14 For Emjambment Contest Sponsored By Rick Parise

Copyright © Carrie Richards | Year Posted 2014

Details | Ballad |
There is a house on the cliff’s edge,
Around a quiet, unmarked shoreline
At night, the tide lifts high against a foggy moon
In the morning, gloomy clouds settle with the sea
At times, not even the birds are seen or heard
The house is left to nature’s caress

Home-crafted seashell chimes sway and sing with the wind
Crushed sand dollars lie together on the back porch
The shells were once whole, collected by the former owners
Long gone are they now, smiling with the moon
The owners are the very sound of the ocean spray,
Striking the rocks, announcing the cool dawn of day
They are not the dark, empty rooms,
The rooms that nobody thinks of as they go about their lives
The quiet owners are long gone—thought of only by one
A stillborn legacy about as tiresome as the sun,
When the clouds crisp out its beams . . .

A seawater puddle is in the middle of the dining room
Nobody knows it sits there, sinking in the floorboards
It used to be a far larger puddle after a storm,
Stealthily leaking into the house
But now it is small—so small—and the boards are moist,
Moist with its only companion amongst the instilled silence

Nobody thinks of empty, abandoned rooms
Nobody remembers the former owners
They were not much for socials and gatherings
They always lived their quiet, happy lives
Without a care of the outside world,
Far from anybody’s thought
Miles from the nearest home
Where the next generation comfortably lives 

He never finished fixing that leak . . .

Sometimes the puddle gets bigger after other storms
And when it does, there is almost life there again
You can see the chandelier reflected on the unperturbed water
As a crystal dangles and falls from on high
The dark silence following the drop is as deep as thought . . .

Nobody thinks of empty, abandoned rooms
Nobody remembers the former owners
There is merely a house on the cliff’s edge
Around a quiet, unmarked shoreline

-March 21, 2013-

Copyright © Laura Breidenthal | Year Posted 2013

Details | Rhyme |
I light a candle for you this lonely night
Vanilla scented footsteps from the past.
The smell of your sweater a poignant delight
I wonder how long the memory will last.

Lavender scent to ease the empty pain
Potpourri of emotions in the smoky air.
In honeysuckle flames I see you again
Inhale the smell of aftershave in my hair.

Lose myself in pipe tobacco and peppermint
Barbeque fumes from a long lost yesterday.
Chocolate laughter that tease and hint
Of watermelon wars in the dusty hay.

Coffee memories that taunt and tease
Lost conversations in the smell of brandy.
Dusty morning air after a hard freeze
Your body heat so sweetly handy.

I light a candle for you this lonely night
Vanilla scented footsteps from the past.
Somewhere deep inside it's very tight
I wonder how long is grief supposed to last.

Copyright © Heidie Buys | Year Posted 2008

Details | Free verse |
How can one express the baffling depths of obscurity? How can one behold to open the shafts of the mind? I have never been able to solve the mystery— Of myself. . . I wish at times that my life was no more That I could live as another and finally see things right But I am always stuck in this darkness And I cannot see this mind in light There are beasts. . .demons prowling through the wasteland Searching for any remaining life And if they are ever found— They are doomed and consumed Fear is their downfall and they never fail to smell it Their ashes remain, dancing with the imaginary breeze It is silent here—there are no answers I wish there were answers. . . But maybe there was never a reason No answers. . . Talons extend and clench around my heart They will never seek me out—they left me here It is like they knew…I had no reason—that was the answer I feel the pulse of my dangling life Alone in the dark, whimpering like a child I have scared myself, becoming this dragon-daggered youth No balm in Gilead! No eyes to see All I know will never be free I don’t need anyone! You are a disgrace—scum of the waste! You have everything, you ungrateful little nothing You are a joke. . . So swallow it all up like the pushover you are Stand your lowest and trudge right through No questions. No answers. Just . You. Or just lie back down into the mush of disease It has already infected you to the core Accept who you are, you ugly pestilence! I hate you Who are you to be glorified? Dream snatcher. . .murderer of all things bright Saturated in what you call light I see right through—even as the reflections shatter All of the dead kept you alive—they all matter… But alive you are the worst there is False savior—edited attention whore I never want to see your face again See, that’s why I hide. . . Desperation. . .desperation. . . I sob and cry kneeling in defeat For once I am right. . .I am right

Copyright © Laura Breidenthal | Year Posted 2013

Details | Verse |
have you ever felt like 
the flashing red light on the roof,
lonely as ever
visible at night, useless by day?

in sync with its partner next door
for a quick kiss over a few flashes only 
then arguing again and again 
night in, night out.

have you ever felt like 
the flashing red light on the roof,
not signaling a warning to keep away
but sending a call for compassion?

using the dark pauses in between 
to yell the same name 
over and over and over
into the emptiness of each night.

have you ever felt like
the flashing red light on the roof,
being your silent cry
only heard by your eternal love?

Copyright © A.O. Taner | Year Posted 2016

Details | Romanticism |
I am the Blue Poet.
The uneasy man.
Who longs to be loved,
or just to have a friend.

My heart whisphers a low melody
on a faint, cool evening
thinking of her.
Once in my arms,
laying on my bed of roses.
Now she is gone.
I cannot think anymore!
It is hard, to love again,
When all your love has been taken away.
... I am the Blue Poet.

I am the Blue Poet,
That walks the bluish, dawn and dew covered streets
in the the October evenings and nights.
But I tell you, I wasn't always so blue.
No! I was once alive... happy... romantic,
... till Love went away!

Now I sit in the wayward poetry clubs,
drinking club soda and snapping my fingures
to a finished performance on a poem about love.
Written by a soft, spoken seventeen year old girl.

Soon, it is my turn to give my poem a read.
I stand on a lone stage, with a spotlight drownding me in blindness.
I face the faces, who look at me and smile.
A clap, and a cough, bring my head up.
I look out upon the sitting crowd.
To see that one face
that speaks to me,
without the movement of the mouth.
The face never showed though, and my head fell back down.

I start to read.
A vase of emotions kill me and swallow me up.
I try to hold back tears, but no more could I halter.
I finished, with a salty tear, rolling down my rough and oiled cheek.
I leave the crowd at ovation
and leave the women, all with tears in their eyes.

I come down from the stage, leaving the bright spotlight.
I shake hands, give hugs,
and collect my pay, and have another round of club soda.
Then, I go down the midnight alleyways of sprinkled city streets
finding myself a cozy room.

I think of her for a moment,
then off to sleep.
I dream of one time laughs, and hugs and kisses.
I cry in my sleep,
...For I am the Blue Poet.

Copyright © Chris Boskovski | Year Posted 2013

Details | Rhyme |
It is but of your fire
That I whither to this pain
This lonely life of love bemired
This shouldered weight of blame

Oh love, fair love, return to me
The glory once inside
For if a chance there ever be
I accept and offer pride

Oh love, fair love, return to me
The dignity of self
For so it seems that in this dream
Beauty lies in stealth

Oh love, fair love, return to me
The rhythm of thy heart
A lonely beat is lost at sea
With a life torn apart

Copyright © Ryan Wegenast | Year Posted 2011

Details | Pantoum |
Glistening symbol of my pain
this lonely tear.  You wet my cheek.
As a smile I try to feign,
unable now of joy to speak.

This lonely tear you wet my cheek
hinting at things not shared.
Unable now of joy to speak;
feeling so lost and scared.

Hinting at things not shared
into the shadows I fear, I've tumbled
feeling so lost and scared.
My pain you make me ache and stumble.

Into the shadows I fear I've tumbled,
and all I see is black.
My pain you make me ache, and stumble
as strength I seem to lack.

And all I see is black.
By this grief I have been swallowed.
As strength I seem to lack,
and by rain forever followed.

By this grief I have been swallowed,
as a smile I try to feign.
And by rain forever followed,
glistening, symbol of my pain.

For Paula Swanson contest 'Pantoum'
3rd place

Copyright © Emma Mantle | Year Posted 2011

Details | I do not know? |
I stalk the streets seeking solace
In the yellow sodium haze 
That lights up this 21st Century

I am momentarily trapped in DH Lawrence’s
“Faintly humming glowing town”
I move, quickly

The night air is balmy
        No Crazy! Crazy! Crazy!
                 With the Thud! Thud! Thud!
Of dulcet musical tones
Which reverberates across the estate
Like the beating heart of a prehistoric forest

I am all alone now.

      I walk towards this primeval world
And in the dank demonic regions of my mind
       I hammer out dark thoughts
And meticulously embed them onto 
      the trunks of forgotten suitcases

The monitor flashes

    “Baggage in hall” 
                              “Baggage in hall”
                                                        “Baggage in hall”


For all to see
                    It carries me
                                         It exposes me 
                                                               It threatens me

       It places a noose around me


Suddenly, I snap back to reality
“Spare a price for a cup of tea”
Homeless person on his knee
I fumble in my pocket for 50p

I go home
I turn the key
And there I see
My children running towards me

My wife she doesn't understand me
“Another late night” she smiles at me
“I know, I’ll make you a nice cup of tea”

as if a cup of tea is going to help me!

Copyright © Tony Kirk | Year Posted 2013

Details | Free verse |
Tragedy is never a sentiment for Time For it is a phenomenon she merely sees She pours forth abundance for all that behold her Even for those of us that scold her And for naught she was cursed from the beginning There she is—interminable Time at the fullest! And we all envy her ever-ringing constancy She rules over our hearts Keeping stress in our spirits Not once does she feel sorry for us Nor is she indifferent of our failures She begs not for gratefulness And accepts who she is with joy! How ample we would be if we Like she—were free of trepidation If only we be like her waters—clear and visible from top to bottom Filled with untainted approval What fools we must seem to such a pure jewel as Time But ah, she is both heartless and kind And though we hate her peculiar aura Oh how hard it is do tear her from our minds! How stressfully beautiful Time is! Like a wink of venerated bliss She smiles and smiles And our ironical faces feel like grime Still she laughs in mirth While the world becomes a ball of putrid hatred Wanting more and more of her And positively hating her We that cannot see her began to hate For we are as visible and low as can be And we acknowledge her merely to insult her Though she takes no pang to the chest For the only gifts we give in return for herself are pangs That she simply returns to each sender Hidden is our pride But ever placed Ever unhidden Is our inscrutable mortality And this humiliation of our unchangeable fates Makes us want to humiliate the more fortunate Thus we regard her only as a concept As a fraction of a belief—a bellowing ideal For of course Time cannot in our honey-glazed eyes Think, eat, drink or feel We use her—yes! Even abuse her Not once will she complain For her gift is everlastingness

Copyright © Laura Breidenthal | Year Posted 2013

Details | Rhyme |
In vile defeat I confided to helplessness
I cringed knowing I know so little
As inadequate as I am I felt responsible 
I felt responsible to know everything

In this mentality I suffered long nights
Over thinking myself and overlooking life
Until I gave up the pain for a little while
And took a deep, dark look to the other side

Copyright © Laura Breidenthal | Year Posted 2013

Details | Free verse |
HELP

The CAPTCHA took me by surprise tonight
Letters became ghouls in my mind’s eye
I listed them—
Noted them; words...begging, crying out for me

STAY

CAPTCHA was merely mocked
By millions of viewers on keyboards
I imagined all—
Tears began to fall

LOST

How may I help you, CAPTCHA?
Are you merely what they say?
Is there more—
Tell me, I pray

AAND

You bewilder my senses with your emptiness
The computer became my way to you
But all I could do—
Was imitate

CRYY 

I began to imagine someone stuck in CAPTCHA
A place where they harbored the weak
They took what they pleased—
Allowed them to speak

NNOW

Today it was happening and evermore
There was a reason I came to know
And now—
I want to know more

FOLL

I swallowed air and typed in the words
Feeling worthless and absurd
I began to believe—
There was more to this irrational dream

XOW3

The screen went black and then I was sure
I couldn’t doubt it anymore
The CAPTCHA wanted me—
The letters suddenly blurred and unseen

CAPTCHA
CAPTCHA
Let them go
CAPTCHA 
CAPTCHA
Full of woe
CAPTCHA
CAPTCHA
Take me now
CAPTCHA 
CAPTCHA
Tell me how to
CAPTCHA
CAPTCHA
Set them free
CAPTCHA
CAPTCHA
Knowing is free

Knowing is free

MMEE

For years I have copied your codes
Knowing you are there
Me—it’s me
Crying in the dark pit of despair

AAND

Though empty your words are to me
They are all I hear
All I fear—
In four letters on this electric trap

XXBX

What am I to do?
To follow would weary my soul
To save—
Would take its toll

FREE

What is this foreign word my dear?
Oh, how can you cut and paste it in my mind so clear?
Free—and then? 
Close your eyes and count to ten

The victims of the CAPTCHA remain a mystery to us all
Yet still we stare at the codes and merely imitate them
We are zombies staring our lives away
Trapped in CAPTCHA’s claws
Sad, deprived. . .
CAPTURED

I speak your language to stop this cruelty:

THEE 2TRUE TH78 IS9X BEF4 HOUR VERY EYES

Though we choose not to see
We choose not to fight
We choose only to IMITATE
We merely copy and paste

CRYY
CRYY
CRYY

GOOD
BAYE
BAYE
BAYE 






Copyright © Laura Breidenthal | Year Posted 2013

Details | I do not know? |

Wrestling Verses


Spilling ink onto paper,
reading tea-leaves,

fragments of mirth,
shards of anguish,

remain,
trapped in rolled-up sleeves.


Turning up my collar,
as blue as these days that slip by,

scattered verses plunge into,
the fathoms of unknown waters.


My ink runs, slips, treading lightly,
penning odes to love on bare skin,

your skin,
your bare back my canvas,

my fingers tracing, caressing, scribbling,
homages to our laughter, our tears.


Wrestling verses,

lie spent, exhausted,
famished and parched from saying too much,

still,

my fingers tickle your soft skin,

my ink would run dry,

were it not for your gentle touch

Copyright © Scribbler Of Verses | Year Posted 2013