Best Solitarily Poems
Do not look to me with questioning eyes
For i do not possess the answers you seek
i cannot taste the bitter sweetness on your tongue,
or smell the withered flowers along your path
My heart beats with less rythm than your blues
i am unable to stumble through your dark corridors,
for you are poet undiscovered
Your answers are hidden deep within an apathetic pen
For you hide behind a painted closed window
Pushing too little
arriving late
Not aware of your own relevance
Solitarily, feeling sorry for yourself
When instead, pity could be your party
Yes it is true, the world celebrates sad clowns
But you do not let laughter mix with your grey sky tears
i myself, see images of you poured out on limitless pages
Rearranged
Sculpted
Until your words have substance
Becoming living and breathing beings
I wish you to reveal to us your cherished children
Birth them to a forgiving unforgiven world
Risk the grasping hands of rejection
True courage will reveal your annoited pen
Without risk
you cannot
will not
bleed in rainbowed splendor
Instead, days will become years
Yesterday will slide into tomorrow
All the while the world would be less
A shadow of what it could have been
In a place of unawareness
Oblivious to its own lacking
Bathed in deprivation
All because
Of a missing
Unexpressed
Silent
Unexplored
voice!
Or maybe
Just maybe
One letter
A tiny little letter
will grow into a word
Several strung together a stanza
Several stanzas a poem
An honest to goodnes poem
Then we will all be witnesses
To the emergence
The screaming or quiet entrance
The proverbial birth
of a singular voice
of a wide eyed dreamer
Then you will feel that collective sigh
as other broken dreamers applaud you
For on that day
If only you possess the courage
all will know
That you truly are
and always have been
a Poet!
For Tyshawn Knight's "Words of Wisdom" contest
Re edited version.
Categories:
solitarily, change, drink, psychological,
Form:
Free verse
"footprints 2"
"Go gliding like an Eagle
where Poets go
music will lead -
through truth,
Love will show"
He said,
"When you think
all is gone,
that’s where real
Love
will show..."
"Fire and Lava flows,"
He said,
"Hell freezes over
While Snowglobes
are turned upside down
and smashed on
The Road..."
Teardrops on The Fraz
knows,
watching
tears falling warm
tears falling slow
He turns over
The Snowglobe
The Past
slowly lets go
From a prison
released
Solitarily
Unconfined,
Slow
"Go gliding like an Eagle
where Poets go
music will lead -
through truth,
Love will show"
She said,
"Freedom. Keys. Piano."
(LadyLabyrinth/2019)
Categories:
solitarily, forgiveness, freedom, love,
Form:
Free verse
Baby blue skies extending forever
through verdant valleys
and hugging mountainsides
Eagles glide gracefully
on a butterscotch breeze
captivating lost feelings in me
Oh to soar so solitarily
away from pain strapping me
in to a dreamless scene
where windows are tinted and freedom's only hinted
A glazed gaze away from the day
into a peaceful sun
the futures begun
On top the evergreen it twirls
swaying in the silence
one drop at a time
Categories:
solitarily, autumn, future,
Form:
Free verse
Music's loudly playing.
Beneath moon dancing.
Tune so entrancing.
Mind's solitarily thinking.
Beneath stars standing.
Afar from rejoicing.
Time's gradually ticking.
Beneath nightskies sitting.
Cries begin echoing.
Heart's silently aching.
Beneath clouds sleeping.
Loud inner feelings.
Dream's gently consuming.
Beneath blanket experiencing.
Transit of fantasizing.
She's unwillingly awakening.
Beneath all wishing.
Fallen into realizing.
Categories:
solitarily, spiritual,
Form:
Free verse
He visits the coffee shop every week
On Thursday, his personal treat
Buys skinny latte, with biscotti
Then takes his regular seat
In the alcove, by the window
Sits to watch the world go past,
With book taken from his ‘man-bag’
Settles, to enjoy his repast
He used to come in with his ‘Mrs’
Now he frequents on his own,
Looking out of the window, and reading
He’s content with sitting alone
Odd times, when the shop is busy
Someone will take up the opposite chair
Some, if inclined, he’ll talk to
Most, he won’t notice are there
He’s happy in his own world
Simply, just getting by
At times, he looks so lonely
It breaks my heart, and I could cry
There must be others, in the world like him
Widowed, divorced, estranged,
Who keep on going through the ‘old routine’,
Living in fear of change
Acting out the old adage of ‘life goes on’
When they lose husband, partner or wife,
Sticking with the same day to day regimes
To help them muddle through life
Maintaining the familiar,
Can help you to stay strong,
Until the day you find yourself ready for change;
You’ll feel the time’s right to move on
Until that day for ‘The Man in the Window’ arrives
He’ll keep visiting every week,
Persisting in his habitual routine
To find the solace he seeks
For now, he sips the last of his coffee,
Neatly packs away his tome;
With a nod of farewell to the barista’s
Solitarily, leaves, to head home.
Categories:
solitarily, absence, heartbreak, loneliness,
Form:
Rhyme
My co-worker posed a theory to me
That our boss was born one hundred years later than she was supposed to be
Neither of us could exactly put our finger on why, but I had to agree
No makeup, unbrushed hair, bad teeth
As though she just awoke from a long, troubled sleep
Her mannerisms seem out of sync somehow with contemporary company;
Solitarily sorting books in the back room of the used bookstore she manages each day
to remain distant and dazed, as though unfamiliar with a world that has dramatically changed
Nobody knows how old she is, but I’d guess upper-middle-aged
She never seems relaxed or at home with where she has landed, always looking around as she walks through a room or doorway, ever vigilant
She shows up each day looking like last night was another rough one, but her speech and ways seem oddly quaint and well-bred,
strangely legalistic and more formal than needed in this squalid environment.
She simply doesn’t seem at home in this place;
She can stand two feet away from me and a co-worker as we’re sorting while joking and, while our hands are busy working, our minds are away playing,
But she is immune to the general contagion of the strange repartee and laughs exchanged, seeming to hear nothing we’re saying.
Never laughing herself nor conversing, guarding her thoughts, observations, and history from judgment, and getting lost in her own world such that the sudden awareness of the presence of another person can induce a violently startled jump the other way.
And I know what that’s like, as I’ve spent many years in that state,
so it is painful to see it in another neglected appearance
and another needlessly nervous wreck of a person who is
wishing to just go home or one day somehow escape this place
where her body has ended up by way of a misdirected fate.
But today she took my co-worker and I by surprise when, after being shown a book with a cover featuring a picture of Jesus playing golf, she smiled widely and lively, and she replied,
“That’s ridiculous! Everyone knows Jesus only played tennis!!”
It was just a small joke, but it was like seeing a rainbow in the refracted light on a dark sky
It gave me hope that, despite being meant for a time perhaps one hundred years ago, in this day where she was nonetheless sent, she may someday come home.
Categories:
solitarily, absence, change, home, humanity,
Form:
Rhyme
I will never have
-money, thick and green.
I will never know the looks,
dirty with envy and greed.
I will not walk empty, cold as stone- irreverent.
I will pain in thought,
cry solitarily.
I will live in love,
love in life- forever more.
My heart agape,
my mistakes iron heavy.
I will live life
the only way I know how.
After missing chances,
Regretting times
I will learn to rise, sky scraping high,
With pride.
Categories:
solitarily, happiness
Form:
Free verse
I want to live solitarily
High above the scenery
And so I did for quite some time
Until one day they began to climb
And finally reached the top of me
That was Nineteen Fifty-Three
When messrs Norgay and Hillary
Committed their grave crime
And gazed upon my face
But I will have my revenge on thee
So that you will leave me be
I'll cut down hundreds in their prime
You will know the final word is mine
And all of you will see
That you must learn your place
Categories:
solitarily, nature,
Form:
Rhyme
Mythological ruthless Cleopatra
Larger than life in 30 B.C.
Her Achilles’ heel being Mark Antony
His untimely death too much to bear
Solitarily confined in her mausoleum
Desperately recluse with her royal asp
Her only sanctioned confidente
Sole witness to her feverish distress
Through a night ever dark and bitter
Raging with unbearable emptiness
Kiss me Take me
In an embrace of death
Royal prince of the Nile
I give myself wholeheartedly
With consummate abandon
Kiss my eyes closed
Let me drift into a deep sleep
As you expedite me to my lover
Where we shall reign again
United in the afterlife
AP: 2nd place 2021
Submitted on April 28, 2018 for contest ASP sponsored by ANTHONY SLAUSEN - RANKED 7TH
Categories:
solitarily, animal, dark, death, grief,
Form:
Free verse
It’s always better to move on and not forget
Why forget when you’ve been around so long
The future never shapes
It’s just some hope for the waste which is the past
I live in the moment and I’ve shown it what it means to be alive
It’s a nose dive
Another struggle that carries over into longs sighs
Plan if you want but nothing is carved into stone
Would you rather be in a group or walk alone
When you’re under the weather do you cry solitarily to feel a bit better
Does each tear shed carry away some hidden fear
Do you watch in the darkness as it nears a new beginning
Crashing and cracking on impact
Although not intact it surely did grab your attention
Are you looking to turn you name into something unmentioned
Well fear is something that’s sneaking through the halls of the mind
Seeking a crack in your pride
Creaking over the loose floor boards
Rerouting some most important chords
Kicking in some haunting sealed doors
And I’m left pacing empty floors
Lacing my fingers atop my head
My body glides into rocking as if some how led
Eyes are fixed on the clocking of time
How can we give such an irrational time some reason or rhyme
Can’t help but wonder when the clock shall chime
When will the sun reclaim the clocking of time
Can we forget about the pinching of each nickel and dime
I beckon, I welcome, I think that would be fine
All my perceptions are met with deception
Drawn out with serrated lines
Unwind the razor wire
Erect the fences a bit hire
If you desire
The sun will cast my shadow
Giving some anatomy to my ghostly figure
My words give birth to flippant thoughts
I hope they don’t leave you distraught
Simply I sought to make you see happiness
Shall not be bought
This is one of my daunting tasks
And without reckoning it will be haunting me to the breaths of last
Categories:
solitarily, life, loss, lost love,
Form:
Lyric
PRISONER: IN THE (W)HOLE
In mystic maze of dungeon, life etches pain
deep in the womb of mind.
Light taunts the darkness; vision sneaks in and
sanity lurks in closing twilight of fear.
Death laughs at cringing realities
suicide refuses to notice: a thought
Conceived in contradictions of this God
forsaken (w)hole.
The blackness is and I am
solitarily confined; sacrificed
To the blind goddess: Justice
Echoing freedom in mystic maze
of dungeon.
Categories:
solitarily, africa, allegory, black african
Form:
Prose Poetry
We used to share dreams;
thoughts, my sister and me.
I occupied the top bunk, she the lower
in the cold, dank bedroom
we once inhabited from dusk to dawn.
Not prophetic dreams, the future;
we had no perception, illusions.
No exchanging, dissembled violent nightmares,
or nightly voyages traveled solitarily.
But joint adventures that filled the time
between awakening and permission to arise.
An alternative to staring quietly
at a half a dozen lazy flies
performing elaborate cotillion
around a solitary bare lightbulb.
The game was simple; A subject was agreed,
then tiny imaginary books pressed tightly
into blinkered eyes would lightly lead us
to places, we could simultaneously inhabit.
Seamless journeys to picture-postcard lands,
often hand in hand with much-loved authors.
Young Spanish kings, wise Arab princes,
Pink fairy queens and fiery golden dragons.
Flying, swimming, never falling, never drowning.
No words spoken; vividly shared visions;
two young minds together, escaping;
to places far less painful than reality.
Secret sacred memories;
each one I can still recall, relive, enjoy.
A Tender Moment From Childhood Poetry Contest: Placed 2nd
Sponsored by: Malabika Ray Choudhury
Date wrote: 05-June-2021
Categories:
solitarily, dream, emotions, journey, sister,
Form:
Free verse
Is there a place for us
Lonely souls
In this big, glowing city?
How ironic
To feel solitarily
In a city of fourteen million
Been slinking in the shadows
For a while now
The light can be burning
Frightening
The shadows can be reassuring
Rapid
Train headache
The view from the windows
Street lights
Feeling warmth from
Only strangers
The red neon torii gate
Opens the door
From the mundane world
To the sacred
Our home
Of neon billboards
With the loud BGM
Pulsating through us
Vividly
This is where I belong
Light and darkness
Both embrace me
In warmth and
Serenity
Categories:
solitarily, cat, city, dark, light,
Form:
Free verse
My unguarded heart once had a home.
But, was abandoned; and now on its own.
Loved and nurtured once upon a time.
Never to be the same again; in this lifetime.
Hollow soul searches for amatively. .
To give "whole-hearted" and submissively.
Heart and soul coincide..
If one lives alone the other will die.
Drifting in the sea of life, solitarily.
Continuing on in this unknown journey endlessly.
One day to collide in the safe harbor of this existence...
A yearning soul to rescue mine with unconditional love and patience.
Categories:
solitarily, depression, girlfriend-boyfriend, hope, imagination,
Form:
Rhyme
Cave was carved from crumbling rock,
inhabited by a seagull flock,
which chirped and squawked the day away,
mottled chicks would stretch and play.
Above this cave a gnarled tree
sat watching guard, solitarily,
it felt ashamed, neither green nor tall,
a stubby bush, not much at all.
No matter where the birds would roam,
always they could find their cliff home,
for like a beacon, seen from sky,
shrub guided them while they did fly.
So everything does have a role,
be it a star or simple mole,
no matter beauty or hidden skill,
we all must do what is God's will.
Categories:
solitarily, faith, nature, spiritual,
Form:
Rhyme