Best Unaccompanied Poems
FACING LONELINESS
I was told by wisdom that to know loneliness is to know oneself.
She said to be alone is essence.
In that, you do not misuse this time with heartache but seek a greater way.
I have experience this kind of direst.
Through the lack of unity, I became distressed.
Being alone became a form of harmony with the world.
My knowledge grew via my worldview becoming skewed.
I was given knowledge via the face of loneliness.
He told me to hold my head-up because anyone can make a mistake.
It is not to be unaccompanied from the world’s marketplace.
However, this is a time to gain insight unaided.
I was told by my own knowledge that sometimes anyone needs space.
Through this knowledge, I am alone but I am not lonely today.
|____________________________________________________|
Penned On November 16, 2014!
Once upon a stranger,
a girl — a well-intentioned woman —
walked with an open soul,
her eyes silvered with withheld sighs.
Behind that quiet gaze,
a seraphic smile concealed its sorrow,
gleaming through daydreams,
as folk songs whispered of her tender defiance.
Once upon a moment,
I heard soft whispers fade —
inside a bus on a starry August night.
She rose to glimpse the world once more,
hope glimmering heavy in her eyes,
half in joy, half in fear.
Once upon what it seemed,
the empty streets turned mirrors —
cold storefronts, dim alleys.
By night she stumbled through silence,
by day she wore her wounds as armor,
wandering through the city’s dense forest
of unaccompanied paths.
An unchained soul, yet caged
by society’s ugly parodies —
cells built from shame and duty.
She pondered the dreams reality killed
as she passed through shanty streets,
escorted by echoes of laughter now gone.
Once again her hope returned:
to fill the void with beauty,
to rise above the dimmed faces of her class.
Her dreams, still burning,
to rekindle the lonely, to build what she was denied —
a quiet joy that glowed against despair.
Once upon a loop of forever after,
lamentations deepened.
Between forced vows and a fractured home,
she lived a life too succinct —
raped, abused, unseen.
Darkness grew familiar,
a slow descent into thoughts unspoken.
And her world took its turn —
the light grew distant,
and she folded into herself,
too late for prayers or wishing wells.
Once upon a stolen dream.
Once upon a neglected childhood.
Once upon a trembling womanhood.
Once upon time, and time again.
A bowed head,
seeking shelter from the tempest —
and as she lies on her five-foot mat,
deep in sleep where dreams unfold,
the queen rises once again,
seraphic and free
in her ultimate paradise.
If I ever knew this day would come
when my muse stops showing up
and words stop flowing through,
I would have breezed upon each chapter
all these breaths l feel for you.
If I ever knew our bench would once be empty,
Creases vanish from my coat
Our peach tree lies unaccompanied ,
and Spring-gardens will turn cold.
If I ever knew a night would come
where I stopped counting stars
in the jazzy sky so blue ...
I would have stopped the time in yester's arms,
and whispered , I love you.
In Memoriam Quietly Always Close
Are they whispers, then, settling
So gently upon that slightest breeze wending
Over the granite crosses and statues of cradling angels,
Which stand in their long cemetary rows?
Stating each name of the one passed on with
There-on etched, too, the noting of time alive
And telling of the beloved, who hum there their slow laments;
Who send up colorful balloons to celebrate their love and
Take far their silent greetings in the sky.
Are they lullaby heartsongs, which
Rise on sprigs of heaven-bound light,
So tunefully sweet for love’s addressed, aided
By a league of angellic composers
In their lyrical rounds from above our earthly sphere?
Are these the places of our hushed sympathies?
The places we lay over our dear ones
All the broken pieces of the grieving heart’s still longing
To stay in some way forever near, and, so, we linger thoughtfully
Criss-crossing the undulating final verdigris
Landscape, which embraces the last remains ~
Resting on in heaven’s wait for that further journey going on.
Are these faint mists surrounding
So many hours of our own remaining days —
Which are spent summoning back the stories, the touches,
The eyes that happily cast their glance into our own —
Not truly our tears
Being turned to magnifying memories,
Prayerfully appearing with each
Dusk’s close of day and placid rise of the radiant moon?
Do see that the soundless falling is our aching?
Is a furor — burst of pure, white snow:
A flash of a blizzard, looking nearly weightless,
Landing in silence, but
Incongruously, falling heavily down, into those forming crystalline layers
To dress a seeming lace-like çover over all the stone markers
With a luminous beauty, revealing a metaphor, ineffable
~ Blessed markers of life itself set here before us
Within reach of meeting the Divine.
—————————————————————————————-
(c) sally young eslinger 6/5/2023
(Written for Jennifer Wilson & Maggie Hopkins in loving
Memory of James Hopkins, spouse, father, & friend) Also written with the inspiring power of images of the 9,000 marking gravestone crosses in Normandy, France, and sights of Arlington Cemetary, Washington, D.C.
Written to unaccompanied cello Suite 1 in G major, perfomer Yo Yo Ma
Thanks be to God…
The blonde went down
with not must resistance
shunning off a stressful afternoon
the scene played of society, high
as I peered at all the pretense
and pretend of an I want to be
better than you and me
old men with young jewelry
cradling arms and new cufflinks
with crosses that will never be blessed
but undressed with tightly shut eyes
Cubans smoked, killing air
drifting from an aging beat
chords crafted with ease
toes tapped on the edge of my seat
the moon peeks and says goodnight
the chair nods off unaccompanied
the grifters scrounge for a dollar
I stand up, it's time to go eat
I wish to breathe in ~
lose myself, as my head tilts back
and I fill with fragrance
be lost upon lost, flowing, fleeing
invisibly within layers, locked in
bound to perfumed memories
that I return to unaccompanied
a ghost within their harmless essence
you are one deep inhalation away
I stop before my lungs are full
still able to tell dreams from reality
I hold three thoughts
three notes that detail my existence
I am the rose, delphinium blue & lily white
evaporative unless curated
an apparition, unheld, unholdable
recalled only to mind
redolent and intoxicated
by lingering base notes
unforgettable
but distinguished by the fact
you remain
the unforgiven
Inspired by The Three Perfumes by Margaret Macdonald Mackintosh
The Old Salt was a special man who came along in a time
when he was needed most.
A time that is now gone forever.
When men believed and sacrificed, when hero’s walked the earth in mass.
When patriotism was not just a word
but,
by what men lived and judged the worth of each,
a man who lived a life most of us cannot comprehend.
An era now gone as this warriors tour of duty ends at this station,
and begins anew in the heavenly fleet.
Sail on Sailor into your unaccompanied tour,
we salute you.
What greater honor, that when a man moves forward,
he leaves behind in each of us the best of what he was.
A defender, protector, supporter, victor, a warrior,
the last of the breed from an era when ships were made of wood
and men were made of steel.
The Old Salt has reported for duty that takes him away from us for now.
Those of us who remain behind,
remember, and will continue to remember,
because he now resides forever in our hearts.
As I look up at night, I envision The Old Salt,
a beret draped just above the eye,
as he draws upon his pipe,
quietly he waits.
The guardian of heaven’s gate.
Do You Have My Back? (Loyalty)
Earn my trust
Earn my allegiance
Allegiance professes commitment
Allegiance is pure dedication
Dedication proper and steadfast
Dedication allows peace of mind
Mind not at ease when lacking
Mind needs constancy
Constancy denotes dependability
Constancy communicates so not to alienate
Alienate an enemy
Alienate frenemies they reek of perfidiousness
Perfidiousness will lead to deceit
Perfidiousness feels like betrayal
Betrayal is a human trait
Betrayal like a wound that is familiar
Familiar ends with liar
Familiar should not create duplicity
Duplicity is not overt
Duplicity will use falsity to hurt
Hurt is at times begins covert
Hurt can lead to a life reclusive and remote
Remote must find a resolution
Remote reattachment requires swift amends
Amends may counteract negative damage
Amends must be sincere to fortify prior commitment
Commitment rectified can even strengthen devotion
Commitment combined with action can rebuild trustworthiness
Trustworthiness is key to avoid treachery
Trustworthiness sought must be a given to receive
Receive it and bask in the glory
Receive and attain a security worth more than gold
Gold is nil compared to trust
Gold cannot outweigh a true friend who has your back
Back another up with their true interests at heart
Back a friend and feel the heartfelt commitment
Commitment is for the resilient
Commitment makes one’s heart feel secure
Secure attachment from each other
Secure feelings are bound by devotion
Devotion is priceless
Devotion empowers liberation
Liberation allows one to live freely
Liberation enables dissidence
Dissidence unreleased can grow black inside
Dissidence with adulation can be expressed
Expressed to a mirror when unaccompanied
Expressed aloud when appropriately linked
Linked to others forges faith
Linked reciprocally is fidelity
Fidelity
Faith
Written for Loyalty contest; entered too late
I strived to nail the form!!
Did you know a report of child abuse is made every ten seconds?
There’s emotional, physical and sexual defilement in certain cases,
these innocent sweet children deserve a home with love and nurture,
there’s so many instances of children lost with unknown faces.
Revilement can cause mental health disorders in adulthood,
two thirds of people treated for addiction reported abuse as a child,
seventy percent of abused children are the age of seven and under,
and I’m sure millions of cases are unknown and never been filed.
If I could change the world I’d help raise awareness about this issue,
I’d fight to pass legislature to allow adult victims have free treatment,
for any critical health issues caused by the exploitation of their youth,
I would encourage volunteering to raise money to all be in agreement.
There needs to be better edification for the new foster parents,
instruction and proper methods to educate the agencies,
if only there was more awareness spread to families with children,
never leave your child unattended with people known strangely.
I beg and plead to all the people who have children of their own,
be cautious with who you leave them while unaccompanied,
and to all the sick people who have been accused of this act,
I swear one day there will be a better way to protect their needs.
Date Written: April 9, 2016
Her voice echoed through the hallways
Of the pediatric oncology hospital ward
When people saw the young girl who sang these songs
They were stunned and they were floored
She sang unaccompanied
But there was music in her voice
The children all felt better
As if they hadn’t another choice
She wasn’t paid to entertain them
She wasn’t doing work for charity
She wasn’t a doctor or nurse there to cure them
She was a patient with one of the maladies
Then, one day, the halls were silent
Into her lungs the cancer had eventually crept
Children and parents were disheartened
Even, from up high, the angels wept
But, the tear drops from angels
Plus prayers from souls down here on earth
Helped to bring about a medical miracle
And her cancer, somehow, did reverse
Her voice rang out again in a soft lullaby
While future angels in their beds slept
Once again hope was planted into patient’s hearts
Once again, on high, the angels wept
A couple of years later, at age 19, this farm girl married and, true to her Catholic
upbringing, began having children. She had four live births and four miscarriages over the course of less than seven years, long before the idea of “post-partum” depression was even a gleam of understanding in anyone’s mind. After the birth of her fourth child, a girl who would grow up to study environmental sciences and eventually draw the correlation between that first atomic explosion and her mother’s first episode of mental, emotional and physical distress, that infant had to be taken by her aunt and uncle to care for lest she perish from failure to thrive because by this time, mom was so deeply depressed, she was unable to care for her newborn.
In those days there was no such thing as mental health care, no understanding at all of how to nourish the brain or detox the body from the effects of poisons and radiation…for indeed these advances are only recently gaining traction and still only in the realm of “alternative health care”. With no understanding of her condition, or of what would even constitute appropriate care, her state of mind and body continued to deteriorate. After more than one suicidal episode and losing her children to foster care while she entered a treatment and rehabilitation facility, she was eventually diagnosed as paranoid schizophrenic and manic-depressive, giving her husband sufficient justification to divorce her and blame her parents for not telling him that she was mentally deficient before he married her. Even the Catholic Church agreed and granted an annulment of the marriage that produced his four live children and four miscarriages while he served in the Air Force and left her to care for his children while he was away for years at a time overseas on unaccompanied assignments. But nevertheless, the marriage was officially annulled so that he could marry again sanctioned by the Church and his Catholic bride could continue to take unholy communion in mass.
Just One More Runaway
Seven times the hammer fell
life's hard knocks no pity
no help, no liberty bell
alone in cold cruel city
Rainbow fell soft that morn
cleansing rains splashed down
she crying with newborn
so far from her home town
City stared down, not a word
silence rules empty stage
their cries not ever heard
sad story, turn the page
News flashed, two found dead
mother, newborn -her son
a few sad words were said
then, " new circus will be fun"
Note:
https://youth.gov/youth-topics/runaway-and-homeless-youth
Homelessness is a major social concern in the United States, and youth may be the age group most at risk of becoming homeless.1 The number of youth who have experienced homelessness varies depending on the age range, timeframe, and definition used, but sources estimate that between 500,000 and 2.8 million youth are homeless within the United States each year.2
Youth run away or are homeless for a range of reasons, but involvement in the juvenile justice or child welfare systems, abuse, neglect, abandonment, and severe family conflict have all been found to be associated with youth becoming homeless. These youth are vulnerable to a range of negative experiences including exploitation and victimization. Runaway and homeless youth have high rates of involvement in the juvenile justice system, are more likely to engage in substance use and delinquent behavior, be teenage parents, drop out of school, suffer from sexually transmitted diseases, and meet the criteria for mental illness.3 Experiences of unaccompanied homeless youth are different from those who experience homelessness with their families. While negative experiences persist for youth who are homeless with their families, their experiences may not vary drastically from youth living in poverty.4 Studies have also found distinct variability in outcomes experienced by homeless youth, suggesting that youth experience homelessness differently........
The sorrows that assail my heart
Heralding the free flow of forlorn tears
Tears unaccompanied by the usual cries
Tears of a heavy heart
That's what they are,
Tears borne out of heart over - weighed by sorrows
That's what they are,
Tears of uncontrollable emotions.
The sorrows of my heart sired by my loss of you
Strenghtened by constant thoughts of you
Thoughts that upholds the uniqueness of the times we shared
Accentuating the joys together we knew
The happiness together as one we found
Our glorious moments
Moments I always relive in my dreams.
My loss of you
From my mind
Diffuses to my heart
It condensed into particles of sorrow
Particle that soon sediment
Forming an invincible heavy bulk
Making heavy my heart.
From my mind
The mist of my loss rises to my eyes
Like the ocean waters
It evaporates
Condensing and liquidating in my eyes
Bathing my eyelids
Trickling down my cheeks
Rushing down my cheeks in torrential cascades.
My heart has fell into my stomach
Killing all butterflies fluttering in my stomach
That day you bade me goodbye
That day that in my arms
You painfully though smilingly muttered to me goodbye
That painful loss of you
That bored a nonrefillable hole in my heart
Was what heralded the sorrows of my heart.
56 years.
Now he lives on the 8th floor,
she lives on the sixth.
2 floors,
two buttons,
and 20 feet away.
He travels
by cane.
Relieved
they don't make those things
out of saw-dust,
she lives
2 buttons,
two floors,
and 20 feet away.
Too much momentum
to spin her attempts,
he waits for her guide downstairs.
Paces in front of the window each day,
and when she makes her move,
he hurries down
-well, he tries-
so she won’t assemble outside,
unaccompanied.
Always wondered what they talked about,
perhaps the loss of their only daughter
thirty years ago.
perhaps not.
That other day
she sat alone,
and I thought
... he may have just had taken a nap...
and as she rested there waiting,
she joined him,
in the only way she could.
Journey -unaccompanied
When my life comes to the end on this earth ,
I do not want anyone to grief or cry for me,
I am free of all my burdens and sorrows,
I want you to know I am with my creator.
The love the family once shared ,
Will always tend to shed tears,
Don't cry I am in a better place,
We will meet ,When the time comes .
I won't take anything when I leave this world,
Only the love and good things I did,
When the purpose of our earthly visit is over,
God takes all of us, one by one.
This journey is special in every respect,
We don't see anyone going with us,
Just an unaccompanied journey,
Journey that will be in memory.