Best Soliloquy Poems

O hear I chant clinging to a sullen northern shore,
tempestuous serene rocky beach that you so adore,
sultry soliloquy sturdy stifled structure sings,
a witness of forgotten sailors and majestic kings.

Them, I blessed with gracious shelter in storms,
for I unmanned, rejoiced in accompanying norms
dreaming of worlds afar with anchored symphony,
of parting tears that await a returning euphony.

O...

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You give me the desire
a love for composing 
word symphonies
yet you give me
the cross of mediocrity
to bear
day by day to know
there are others 
who are prodigies
and I must hear 
the thunderous applause
while at best
I get the praise
of those who seek to console
my dying soul
I must eat my heart alive
while the words burn inside
demanding expression
soul confession
unborn...

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I often cower at the thought
of conflict, and what grief it's brought -
while you have courage to engage the fight
for what is right.

I frequently will fret and fear
in dread at what might happen here - 
while your strong hope believes the future brings
a bird that sings.

I sometimes walk with head held high,
a prideful, unrepentant guy...

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Now is the summer of our discontent
Made glorious opportunity for change
And all the clouds that lower on our land
In the bosom of the media rearranged

While I who have no mind for fair concord
Determine to conspire and prove the fiend
And hate the idle pleasures life affords
Ensure conflict is harvested and gleaned

Plots have I laid, inductions dangerous,
To...

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.

               Oh
 if I could just reach out
   and touch her face
when she looks that way
          at the me

        Each morning
  ...

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I am not dreaming, certainly. .
Not even dreams of the purest happiness 
Contain that of which makes up this precious being. . .
How softly she smiles at me….
Like the beautiful gypsy, La Esmeralda,
To the hideous hunchback Quasimodo, 
Looking not on my face and frame with any ounce of fear nor fright—
But with wholesome love and...

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New grass will wave in a crisp morning breeze
White buds will blur our orchard lanes again
Clouds will be dancing over the blue horizon
And earth will feel the tiny feet of rain

Streams will wash their pebbles bright and clean
Each shaken fern will yield a twinkling shower
Meadowlarks will share a sweet soliloquy
And sun-drenched lilacs will be glad...

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Cast
what’s left 
of your net
faithfully out
inquisitively into life’s river .

This time draw it's fill slowly back to shore,
taking great care
which treasures
you should
keep.
 

written by:
Robert A. Dufresne...

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Raindrop Soliloquy  

My raindrop hides into a tiny nook
to signal of a pending storm to come
a lightning strike prepares to make its scene
the consequences may be dire
the night portends the ominous clouds
Behold… the massive rain begins to pour
its thrum creates a classic fugue
of music to entice a thunder roll
slamming roofs as heavy stones 
caressing...

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stay here,
find me passionate-
feel my idyllic pleasure fight none

exceedingly loved am i without fear
adrift the Atlantic tides rescuing me
into safe solace

echoes of your soliloquy reach depths
too deep to comprehend

your thoughts,
my words-
your amour,
my soul-shining wonder

once languid, now strong,
for this is the dalliance i’ve
always dreamed of in my youthful longings

contouring the outline of your silhouette,
renown for all...

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...dedicated to Hart Crane (1899-1932)

 
As I dream the sounds of morning sliver,
cut my senses; slow, persistent slices
pierce my eyes to ragged wakefulness.
The muffled cries of merchant hustle and
the honking of the traffic, the noises of
a summer's day displace my reveries.

I wake, and through my window I see
barges in the harbour, bustling like
beetles, scuttling over...

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Tell me, my friend,  
does infinity not unsettle your reason,  
or is it a comfort—to believe it meaningless?  

Look beyond the rust of your disbelief—  
this isn’t the frostbitten dogma you imagine.  
This is the marrow of things,  
     the architecture of why.  

I...

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...dedicated to Hart Crane (1899-1932)

 
As I dream the sounds of morning sliver,
cut my senses; slow, persistent slices
pierce my eyes to ragged wakefulness.
The muffled cries of merchant hustle and
the honking of the traffic, the noises of
a summer's day displace my reveries.

I wake, and through my window I see
barges in the harbor, bustling like
beetles, scuttling over...

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The
old man
dies a death,
youth arrives with
Spring-
with
a blaze
of passion
Summer takes a 
Fall-
and 
decays-
in Winter
darkness ages
all


Inspired by Archimboldo's Seasons paintings

http://www.abcgallery.com/A/arcimboldo/arcimboldo.html...

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Desperation clings to the branch
Wrestling with a frightened leaf
Begging a howling wind for more
Wondering why one leaf would fight

The wind abates, she sits alone
Desperation clings to the branch
Weeping in the hoar frost darkness
Beneath a cold, uncaring moon

Where had the color gone, the songs
the nesting birds, chirping crickets
Desperation clings to the branch
In Fall’s silenced soliloquy

An inexperienced...

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