Best Solitude Poems | Poetry

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Peaceful Solitude by Babcock, Phyllis
solitude is my lust by Gn, Harshitha
In Solitude and Reverie by St. John, Sian
Absolute Solitude by Sinha-Roy, Subimal
Solitude by the Reverie by Malik, Abdul
Quiet Solitude by Shepard, Anna M
Solitude By The Reverie by Haight, Sandra

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The Best Solitude Poems

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Poet in Recluse

I relinquish my pen before the storm
of her tears falling upon my bare arm
her gentle whispering breathed in my ear
Muse of mine, adieu to your wit and charm

With piqued reasons I have come to deduce
It's time to say fond farewell to my muse
She should seek a new poet and lay claim
for my words have grown utterly abstruse

Spare me sullen eyes, from cries in refrain
I shall not weep in sadness nor disdain
Bitterness does not become a recluse
My poet's heart weakens, I dare not feign

Time's drawn the shades in darkness of night
No candle flame shall glimmer enough light
in which I may be tempted before morn
to doubt seclusion and attempt to write

Cloistered without pen, I shall ever be
From thinking in rhyme I shall be set free
Poems half written on bits of scrap paper
I shall lock away and then toss the key

My hand has retired, this last poem now penned
No more idyll thoughts of mind will transcend
Bereft of rhymes and abandoned of verse
This poet knows her time has reached an end

Ink no longer flows through my tunneled veins
Expressed emotions in poetry wanes
And when interred, on my stone I shall read,
"Reclusive poet" over my remains

****   ****   ****
Fourth of July, 2017
Broken Wings "R" Form

Copyright © Lin Lane | Year Posted 2017

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Find Me in My Solitude

Listen to poem:
I find content in solitude
deep in a quiet woods,
where creatures keep a wary watch; 
and silently in my seclusion,
ponder life, with no intrusion
I walk so far, I feel I’m lost -
and wonder if someone would find me
if I were to walk away 
and leave the world behind me -

I find my soul in solitude, 
in dimly lit cafes -
I hide in the cacophony, 
and sip my coffee quietly,
adrift inside my mind, 
I sink so far, I fear I’m lost 
and wonder, if slipped away, 
if anyone would find me.
Please, won’t somebody find me ...

December 4, 2016

Copyright © Becca Teagan | Year Posted 2016

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My Inner Voice

I leave the daily hustle and bustle of a city's cacophony of sound. And go to where the leaves softly rustle in the breeze... and no one else is around. When I'm alone, I find an inner peace that raises my soul to a higher plane. And anxiety's attacks slowly cease free from critical critiques and disdain. Seclusion fuels imagination shaping reality within my mind. And it's a feeling of liberation, unrestricted by rules of any kind. Whenever I seek solitude by choice I hush the whispers of my inner voice. (Sonnet) May 2, 2018 The Beauty of Solitude Line Gauthier

Copyright © Emile Pinet | Year Posted 2018

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Love Sleeps, Never Dies

An old man
A Grumpy bitter old man
Bitter face
Red nose
Wrinkled beady eyes
Scruffy clothes his best attire

Life has not been kind
So his bitter words bite those around
He lived alone, inside his madness
Leave me be and go to hell
His favorite expressions

The phone rang one night late
This is the Court sir, your brother’s son and family 
Have been in a terrible accident
Only your niece of four survived
When can you pick her up?

The old man was in a daze
What the hell was he being punished for now
Keeping care of a dam kid
What the bloody hell did he know about that?
"Well sir, we will be expecting you tomorrow, 9am prompt please"

Walking back to his flat, with a 4 year old girl in tow
Well the neighbors gawked to say the least
The poor little girl, tears and teddy, trying to keep up with grumpy
Once inside his flat, he looked at her with disdain
Said "Guess you be expecting some food or some such"

She nodded, as sad as she was, she was indeed hungry
He showed her the cupboard and fridge, milk and cereal in there
Help yourself, and wash the dam dishes afterwards
Don’t got no extra bed, so you sleep here on the couch
She nodded silently, thinking the world truly must have ended

Days, turned into weeks, turned into months
This little girl complained not once
All she could think of was her pain
Mummy and daddy were in heaven where ever that was
Why they left her was truly confusing

Friday was her birthday
She was sad and missing her family
Getting ready, she went to the cupboard for dinner
The old man said what the hell you doing that for?
She shivered in fear, he was always so so so mad

She apologies, sorry uncle Pete
He replied you sit your self down right there
And you be quiet you here?
Then the lights all of sudden went out
Bright tiny candles burned in the night

The old man, said, is your birthday after all
Hope you don’t mind these little cupcakes I got us here
She looked at him with new eyes
He turned, not quite smiling, no miracles just yet
They ate in silence after which, he said good night and happy birthday

The next morning even they really never talked
Other than who does what chores
Or how expensive she was to care for
She asked out of the blue
"Uncle, why do angels have wings?"

In his usual grumpy way, he replied
"So they get the hell away from us as fast as they can is why
This world is no place for happiness or angels get used to that"
She was taken back by his bitterness, still………
She replied, “but I dream on them looking over me uncle"

Well he looked at her, and somewhat softly and with unusual kindness
He answered her "that’s because you are one of them, a sweet little angel"
She ran into his arms and gave him a big hug
This was a very good thing.
For then she could not see the single tear the dropped to the floor

He actually hugged her back and with all of his heart
That day, a day for most people that was a normal day
Was for him and his little charge, a miracle
A small loving child, held that secret key
To opening an old mans heart

Copyright © arthur vaso | Year Posted 2015

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Memories - Episode 1

It is said that eyes are the windows into ones soul If truth be told they reflect ones innermost feelings The girl observes her with earnest inquisitive eyes Her most striking feature - green eyes flecked with gold. Braided neatly is her long thick brown hair She has a smattering of freckles on her upturned nose Just enough to give her a somewhat cute look But the most fascinating is her impenetrable stare
A stare, which makes her feel awkward - in this sickly blue room Drab and clinical like most hospital rooms are She wears a hospital gown and was brought in here they tell her By some kindly soul who found her wandering Not knowing who she is - nor from where she came She doesn’t have a clue of what her name is A girl without a past, is a girl without a future
The images she has swirling in her head Roll in and out like the endless waves That she would like to keep at bay That a part of her wants to resist instead But they merge one with the other Like the wind and the surf Again and again lapping the shore Sounds trying to break through a blur
Waves of emotion wash over her Her past memories - hers to keep - hers to hold Like deep rooted trees - roots lodged in Are now hidden secrets from her past? She feels that some things can never be cast into oblivion Yet some nets no matter how far cast out to sea Do not bring back answers blowing in the whisper of the wind
Whispers in her ears that fade into lurking silhouettes Into her subconscious seeming familiar faces slink back into regress Aren’t some memories best to be forgotten? Connected to these shadows that remain to haunt? Will tomorrow’s sunrise bring them back? The self-destructive memories so misbegotten When memories from ones past are all wiped clean How can emotions remain behind to torment? Why does she feel an unaccountable sense? Of déjà vu combined with futility and fear between?
Trying to trigger a response they ask a thousand questions Making her brain hurt trying to remember Who? What? Why? Where? She looks across at the girl, does she know things about her? Could she tell her if she’s some mother’s daughter? Is she some man’s love? A sensory overload of emotions drives her to anguish The nurse gently puts the mirror back in her hand Urging her to keep looking, She tells her that sometimes it triggers a memory She looks at the mirror The girl with the green eyes Looks back at her
Braided neatly is her long thick brown hair She has a smattering of freckles on her upturned nose Just enough to give her a somewhat cute look She looks disenchanted - gone is her penetrating stare
Memory is not just where she left the keys It is the essence of who she is But the silence is still unbroken And only stillness remains
Midnight - and she finds herself at the window Gazing at a moon that no doubt reflects her feelings Did she experience love in a man’s arms Did she dance in happiness beneath the glow? Perhaps sunrise will bring a new morning Perhaps with it her memories And she knows she must not give in To fears of a fatalistic warning Because from midnight to the morning’s sun Is after all when new memories will begin Unlocking a new Life and Hope renewed? Look! A New Day has already begun!
Stay tuned for next Episode Continued in ... 'Blind Terror' - (Memories Episode 2) Episode list in consecutive order: Memories - Episode 1 Blind Terror - (Memories Episode 2) Wistful Expectations - (Memories Episode 3) Deception - (Memories Episode 4) Run Run As Fast As You Can - (Memories Episode 5) Running - (Memories Episode 6) Music Video Clip Published on Oct 21, 2016 'Memory' by Gheorghe Zamfir

Copyright © Maria Williams | Year Posted 2017

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you are, i am

open your doors
close all the windows
sleeping's such a bore
suffocate it with pillows

psh, i'm not hellbent
shut your mouth
it's called character development
WOOPS. broke routine again
and the poem's gone south.

made myself out to be the bad guy
so they wouldn't feel as sad when i die
so many
so many damn times you told me
all those uplifting words regarding my significance
did i ever stop to listen?
now look at all this tension

i am the patient
you're the asylum
this heart rate is hesitant
unless you revive them

i'm the addiction and
you are the needle 
i'm the mutilation 
you're the scars that will heal

i am the stash 
and you're the supplier
i am the match and
you are the fire

you are the truth
and i am the dare
you are the daydream
i'm the nightmare

i am the cigarette
you are the lighter
i am the pirouette
you're the choreographer 

we all are so sad
we've both lost our thrill
that's just too bad but
we both know the drill

made myself out to be the bad guy

so i wouldn't feel as sad when i die

Copyright © Agony Aiane | Year Posted 2016

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Seeds of Wisdom

A solitary man
I make my way up the mountain
One step at a time
The life I know further and further behind
I wish to be alone
away from the busyness 
the incessant noise
my many responsibilities
life’s never ending activities
work that is never done
all of life’s many conflicts

I reach the top
sit down and cross my legs
As I look out at the landscape
my village is a small mass of thatched roofs
the people barely seeable
I see smoke rising from a central fire
wondering if I will be missed
From this distance the lake appears so small 
I imagine it fitting into a wooden spoon
The horizon surrounds me
stretching my eyes
distracting me from  the pebbles beneath me
blades of grass are now myopically large

I watch as the ants toil
Are our lives not the same?
Seasons change
Summer to fall 
Winter to spring
I witness it all
My beard lengthens as my mind enlarges
Secrets have been revealed
Disconnected yet I am a part of all
I grow downward into the ground
Others come to the mountain top
seeking wisdom
They sit with me for a while
never staying long
Each takes from me so that they may give

I am a man transformed
Arms outstretched reaching to all the horizons
covered with foliage 
The seasons continue to change
 I send my leaves down to the village
beconing them to come to the mountain
no longer do I want to be alone
"Come sit beneath my branches
caress my bark smell my scent
know my soul." 

You come to the mountain top
But I am no longer able to audibly speak
All that I know resides in the rings of my seasons
Still you partake of my wisdom
Putting your ear to my trunk
You can hear my lonely heart beat
aware of my breath whistling through leather like leaves
I attach my seeds to your woolen coat

You are a solitary man
making your way down from the mountain
One step at a time
Closer and closer to our village
To the ones you love
As you walk through the village you shake your coat
Seeds fall on the fertile ground
Finally I have come home...

Copyright © Richard Lamoureux | Year Posted 2018

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Blackened Crow circle frightened hardly -plucking nightly the fruits of her harvest pitchforked hollow eyes watch behind the disguise of a red worn bandana impaled and left to molder

Copyright © Tim Smith | Year Posted 2016

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Broken Heart, For Sale

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

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The Party

The Party

Everyone is festive
All the ladies in pretty dresses

Champagne in flutes
Flirts in Armani suits

Waiters and penguins
Serving wine and cheeses

Musicians playing tango delights
Diplomats avoiding land mines and devastated sites

I toast them, one and all
Vodka and Russians can not dance

I can drink you all, under and over
Tossing empty bottles over me shoulder

Pretty ladies and purple purses
Drunken observations as the poet muses

Who would bed me now?
So drunk and wise with broken fuses

No one, can see the poetic disguise
Of the lonely man seeking only lies

The tenderness of the Spanish kiss
Hold me, dear dream, caress me inside

The floor is full of empty plates
The party is over, so it seems is my fate

I fall asleep under a street lit lamp
The richest of bums in an old cul du sac

If only before that fateful day
I could suckle upon the breast once more

We are all infants no matter the shore
Love should never have parted out that door

Sanity was broken and tossed away like lore
I mumbled the petty desires of the broken man

I tore out my heart, bloody and beating in my hands
Laid it bare upon the sands

Coupled with crabs
The universe re-created

Eaten raw, love was consumed
New beasts shall roam

Sunken eyes and empty chest
I, am the one who is no more

Tall tails and party hats
The forgotten are never fancy cats

Until one day you meet the maker
Of your story, cooked by the baker

Ovens shall burn and choirs sing
The devil you see, had the last ring

Copyright © arthur vaso | Year Posted 2016

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I rise at the center of...
Is it a room? This is a face.
There is motion, too fast, too clamorous.
Cryptic and opaque. Shapes shift
into my field of view.
Recognize! The message spoken
ends in an upward curve.
Interpret! It means a question

?                         ?                            ?                          ?    

                                 What to respond, when....
                                 I get nauseous.
                                 My body twitches, my mouth tics
                                 I make no sound
                                 I cannot speak.
                                 I cast my eyes down.

Curl up, arms wrapped around self;
Rock to calm down again;
Count the tiles;
Hum Rachmaninoff.

                               What is this incomprehensible life?

My soothing world is filled with letters and words,
a keyboard, screen, and silent friends
They speak to me in sentences and formulas
of friendship and love...
on my screen..

I am afraid
         I am always so very afraid
                     Once I was somewhere else
                                    Locked up inside
                                                    My head

                                                                Once I was somewhere else
                                 I will not go back there
I want to stay out.

Copyright © Darren White | Year Posted 2017

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The Quiescent Water Way

Still shallow waters,
Fish unseen, hugging the brackish bed,
Salt grass and saltwort give ample shade
And shelter from hungry predators 
That fly around the insurmountable 
Pinnacles of the surrounding hills.

The lad sits quietly on a small wooden pier,
Mulling on thoughts that elevate his soul.
No vale of darkness shall invade his being,
At least not while he rests before the stretch of water.
For there alone he feels at peace.
Indeed the quiescent waters refresh him.
Even the flapping of some solitary sea duck
Will not ruffle his meditative mind.

Suddenly he hears voices and a boat arrives
To end his peaceful stay on the water way.

Copyright © Victor Buhagiar | Year Posted 2017

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She roams cross the land her heart so bitter blue Leaving behind frosty morning dew Icy veil sadly unkept Laden woe upswept She speechless Wept Left dreamless Numb regret windswept No kind soul to intercept Cold bemoaning howling winds a clue She roams cross the land her heart so bitter blue
-andaree form- Posted on May 1, 2018

Copyright © Line Gauthier | Year Posted 2018

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He walks alone


He walks alone, without a hand to hold,
craving innocent passion, love so pure.
Hoping, dreaming, to fill his heart of gold,
for pain of yearning, is hard to endure.
Longing for love to share, a cheek to kiss,
to embrace, hold her in a warm caress,
stroke her hair, share togetherness and bliss,
to feel the depth of sweet love, nothing less.
Long, lonely days, wishing, longing to find,
one to love, soul and beauty to adore,
to share his love with gentle loving kind,
to end his lonely quest to seek no more.

To find his soulmate of female gender,
to cherish, behold, with love so tender.

T.J Grén

Copyright © Teppo Gren | Year Posted 2015

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Do you know why silence is so loud? Have you ever heard a sound so loud As silence? I speak the words my mouth can’t say With more than just my lips With much more than my tongue Will you read my hands and words? Will you wait till my mouth said What it wanted? Can you? Can you stay silent for so long? If you have the patience to join our world Of rich and graphic language? Make a wish without your mouth Or spoken words Close your eyes and visualize Be in your mind’s eye And join us there Join our tale! You should see the words float in the air And draw a picture for you, or a film Or a book Will you look at me and my hands and My eyes, and my mouth, and See my words? I wish for you to join me And really understand How can you say it is silence? Do you know why silence is so loud? Have you ever heard a sound so loud? As silence?

Copyright © Darren White | Year Posted 2016

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my solitary wandering

I savour silence and my solitary dreams, my wanderings
and in my candlelit room, I withdraw 
to my secret place and you
I have put on our wedding dance music
and I am travelling back, back in time with a sigh
I know what comes next and I want to weep with love
my dress is a cloud of red chiffon flowing, flowing
and you my darling, are in a black suit
soft the jazz music drifting in my meditation
did I put that music on or did it just come to me
you whisper in my ear, besome mucho, and I turn the page
back, back, I turn back the pages
we swirl onto the dance floor, twirling and dipping perfectly
and the red chiffon is beauty 
kiss me my darling your whisper or is that the music
your strong arms hold me tightly, oh I remember
and we are spinning, spinning, spinning
then the music is loud like thunder, roaring
  and you are fading
      our hands slipping
          then our fingertips
              and still we are spinning
                 until you are gone and I am alone
                            yet the music goes on and on

and in my candlelit room, I take a deep breath . . . 

February 5, 2016

Free Verse/my solitary wandering
Copyright Protected, ID 752594

July Standard Contest
sponsor, Brian Strand

Second Place
Submitted to the contest, Solitary Moments
sponsor, Mystic Rose

First Place

Copyright © Broken Wings- Dear Heart | Year Posted 2016

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The Winter of Life

The wind blows and rattles
the loose louvers of my windows.
Occasional thunder rumbles
and rain floods my garden.

How quiet is the house today
despite the crackles of burning wood.
No crying babe requires nappy change.
No tiny feet run around the rooms,
no sound of cartoons from the TV,
no rap music blares from upper rooms,
no one is at work in the kitchen
preparing milk and stews and soups.
All is deadly silence.
So I sit alone and ponder.
What do we really live for,
Now that everyone is gone?
I frown in perplexity.
I know too well about life.
It is not the here that is important,
but the eternal after.
And I am prepared for the journey.
Let winter do its worst. 
I fear it not.

14 July 2016
New or Old Poems
Sponsored by: Eve Roper 

Placed 2

Copyright © Victor Buhagiar | Year Posted 2016

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You Steal My Beauty To Heart With Glee

You Steal My Beauty To Heart With Glee

Clear night sky once told me to yield
Hold your horses and be quite still
You are but a dot in a dirty brown field
Certainly nothing to give others a thrill.

Now go lay in a moonlit cave
head bowed and heart seeking relief
Give thanks for what I gave
and seek mercy for you are a thief.

You steal my beauty to heart with glee
yet return not praise and glory my way
Yes, you love deep what you see
but fail to ever give me proper pay.

What could I say facing such true accusations?
I simply bowed my head and gave sincere salutations.

R.J. Lindley
Spring, 1971 

Note- From my private journal. Written two years after my father's death.
I often wandered out into that barren brown field late at night to gaze at the vastness of the universe and ask why he was taken from me...
Soon with no satisfactory answer, I turned to hating the world with vengeance in my heart that continued for 18 long and painful years ..

Copyright © Robert Lindley | Year Posted 2016

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That childhood faith, vehemently spirited,
Difficult to bend, impossible to tame.
That still-cradled heart, curiously open,
Eschewing fear, shunning struggle,
Accepting of each coming day.
The journey so hazardous.
Now a cold-forged and unyielding heart 
Beats out each agonizing minute.
Jared by indolence and disappointment,
Vision unrecognizably scarred.
The journey so quickly done.
Needing to chance upon that child again
To lightly touch the angel's brow.

Copyright © Charles Hamouth | Year Posted 2015

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Hidden In Plain Sight

Footsteps shuffle hurriedly on by
scents of jasmine drop down
from pearl white flowers
adorning her flowing hair

Paradise engulfs my soul 
recreating memories of old
a time when I mattered
and life was deemed whole

I yearn to go back to that place
filled with a freedom of being
dwelling in favorable light
no longer hidden in plain sight

Copyright © Tim Smith | Year Posted 2016

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Ebony Sea

Swift nibbles, tentative licks 
     small diamonds of broken moonlight
          on ebony waves
               symphony playing with my toes

                    Silent yellow light
               quick curious pouting lips
          and bites, silvery little
     fishes around my legs

                   A wish to push far into the black 
                   seduction, to sleep there
           To kiss a final poem, disintegrate
           into filaments and atoms
           join and surrender


April 21, 2017 
Copyright © Darren White

Copyright © Darren White | Year Posted 2017

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Ah! To be adrift upon the boundless sea sailing, sailing, sailing!
Alone with the sea and pristine sky with southerly winds prevailing.
No particular destination in mind as upon the surging sea I plod,
Nor is there another soul in view as I quietly commune with God!

Ah!  To be alone at night in the desert pondering, pondering, pondering!
I lie to refresh my weary bones after a day of vagabond wandering,
Savoring the soothing quietude with gentle zephyrs caressing my face,
Gazing heavenward as constellations wink at me from outer space!

Ah! To scale the highest mountain where even eagles dare not fly!
The precious solitude of it all!  I can reach out and touch the sky.
Such divine inspiration it brings to this mere mortal's languid soul,
As God's Creation beyond is revealed for me to relish and extol!

Ah!  To amble down a forest path when autumn leaves adorn the trees!
Gold and crimson leaves waft about me, stirred by an occasional breeze.
I'm awed by the Master Artist's handiwork no mere artist dare portray.
This priceless solitude and beauty I shall treasure forever and a day!

Ah!  To lie 'neath a shade by a rippling stream and dream, dream, dream!
Watching vagabond clouds scudding across the sky in solitude supreme!
I suppose there are folks who prefer to mingle with the multitude,
But I treasure time alone to muse and write in peaceful solitude!

Entry for Line Gauthier's "The Beauty of Solitude" Contest

Copyright © Robert L. Hinshaw | Year Posted 2018

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The Beaten Path

I hold my breath - like a lover held against my breast; not wanting to let it go lest I forget how to breathe ~ I cradle a thirsty thought - nurturing its fragility like a nursing newborn; not wanting to let it go lest I forget how to think ~ I catch my free fall into suspended animation - and my flatline begins to beat again . . . Susan Ashley May 22, 2018 _______________________ ~ Third Place ~ Contest: Late June 2018 Premiere Sponsor: Brian Strand

Copyright © Susan Ashley | Year Posted 2018

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Cold Hard Steel

Cold Hard Steel
My mouth wide open, gasping for breath, splashing, gurgling
Hopelessly going nowhere, treading, losing the fight
I can’t hear the clanking or yelling anymore, today is the day I have succumbed to his cruelness, numb, no thoughts, no feelings just sinking, floating, slowly being dragged down below 
His lack of love and affection has surrounded me like a cold hard steel chain bound around me.  
The black oval links is evidence that evil is not part of the circle of life
I’m drowning. He’s not listening.  Why won’t he help me? Doesn’t he care?
How did I let it go this far? 
A light from above, an angel reaches out a hand, follow me
Bursting through the crashing waves I rise above the depth of darkness
To find that God will always love me
All my tears have faded. Joyful smiles every day.
He is still part of my life but the chain has been broken, I have been set free because God will always 
love me. 
Even on the days when he doesn’t show me love and kindness 
I know I am not alone in this big old house. I kneel and take it to the throne. 	
And tell God about my day. 

Inspirational song Chain Breaker by Zac Williams 
Original poem 7/22/17

Copyright © Nancy Mitchell | Year Posted 2017

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Saturated in Solitude

I remember those busy years,
As mother, employee and wife.
I'd sometimes beg, almost in tears,
For peaceful play from my small dears
And more quietude for my life.

The years have passed, with children grown.
My dear husband has gone ahead. 
My home and my time are all my own,
Sitting by silent telephone,
With only myself to be fed.


Copyright © Joyce Johnson | Year Posted 2018