What if I write you an 8 page sonnet
And when I see you
We talk about the weather
The burdens of bureaucracy, and the colors of fall
You love the orange and I love that the piles of leaves are pillows of the living dead that I plow into
And puddles are piles of recycled tears that I cry into
But I’ll say I love orange
Because neither boys nor teachers like running sentences
I've been hammering my hope with city sounds
Coffin nails clicking on concrete dreams
Smoke stacks preach,and I am their parishioner
Every alley is an altar,every streetlight a saint
I drink from the gutters of gospel graffiti
Find my reflection in broken bottles
And bless my sins with spit and asphalt
Marriage turning into a menace, the couple craved for a riddance.
Through a divorce, finally got freed of their alliance.
Months passed on without any occurrence.
Slowly, into their solitary lives began to creep silence.
The songs they heard, no more had any cadence.
The sunsets, they watched didn't have any brilliance.
Deep down, they felt deep annoyance,
And longed to seek shelter in each other for deliverance.
It was then that they met at a function by coincidence.
Though a chance meeting, it turned out to be of great relevance.
In a tone of deep regret she told, she was all repentance.
Both felt, most of their notions on marriage were sheer nonsense.
They, henceforth decided to live together in mutual acceptance,
Seeking shelter in each other in every turn of life with consonance.
That night with the stars peeping and all anxiety kept in abeyance,
They embraced each other, consummating their joyous confluence!
Loneliness is not a Thies
It never steals outright
It simply hides the silverware
And dims the hallway light.
You reach for what you swore you owned
But grasp a shadow instead
And learn the rooms you thought were yours
Were rented, by the dead.
A bell that rings within the soul
Has no cathedral near
It tolls for moments lost and found
In chambers hardly clear.
I press my ear against its hush,
As pilgrims press to stone
And find the echo is myself,
Returning, more alone.
The words I spoke dissolved, unheard in empty halls,
Yet echoes now gather praise where silence once did fall.
My presence was ignored, my shadow brushed aside,
Now whispers of my leaving swell with unearned pride.
The hands that never touched me lay wreaths on empty air,
Their care blooms only where I no longer dare.
I walked through nights of cold, my fire hidden deep,
They honor the traces left, the secrets I could not keep.
In life I wore my scars, unheeded, sharp and raw,
In absence they are treasures, revealed to all they saw.
The doors I knocked on closed, yet now swing wide in memory,
A cruel kind of worship awaits the heart, no longer free.
I leave, I vanish, yet they finally see,
The weight of what I carried, the cost of being me.
Waiting, waiting, that's all I do. I wait in pain; I wait in darkness. I wait alone for what I'm unsure of but here I am, so to understand where I am, what I am, you must understand what keeps me here, why there is no escape. It's not that I don't want it, but it's not allowed, so again I wait to maybe see the sun to hear a loved one call my name to feel wanted in a world that seems to leave me behind, so here I am waiting for something anything.
I apologize not for sleeping all day
in this home where my kids put me away
if I wanted to be awake, I would be
I hate being here said sad lonely me
I cried oceans of tears.
And now I’m drowning.
Nobody sees me.
And now I’m shouting,
Because I am barely visible,
Oh, the right word is I am invisible.
I am completely under the water.
And my eyes can’t see anything.
My mind is in chaos.
Because it is crowded with many things.
Why can’t they hear me?
It’s so blue here,
I’m reaching for this liquid,
But my hands can’t touch it, as it’s so clear.
Do they even miss me?
I don’t think they do.
Because they won’t even have noticed me.
Drowning in this pool.
It’s completely dark here.
My lungs are filled with this water.
Now that I have stopped breathing,
so I can stop my heart from to shatter.
My body might now be pale and blue,
Just like the water,
I am now part of this sea.
The sea creatures have adapted to me.
Noticed me
Even though I was invisible
Because for the people outside this sea,
I was barely visible.
rain shaking the leaves
makes me feel as if I've heard
whispers down the lane
A baas boy longing for his family uses the Morning Star as a point of reference and a guide for hope.
A Star/Steer poem
The distant star my guiding light shines down
on fields of labor hard and long.
A thousand miles from where my love is sown
I trace its beam and hum a silent song.
It knows the path my weary feet steer back
to the faces I hold so dear.
Does the same star watch over them tonight?
My wife,my children dreaming in the dark.
I pray it keeps them safe till morning light
and leaves upon their hearts a gentle mark.
I promise I'll journey home once more,
Sit with them on our humble floor.
6.Konosuba: Is It Wrong for King David to Try to Pick Up Girls in a Dungeon?.
My life is a psalm filled with poetic justice.
For all the giants I slew,
I still see myself in king Saul .
Consulting the dead on the self fulfilling prophecy of my falling on my sword.
Zombies accompany my harp with shrieks of Dolores O'Riordan,
As I seek to meditate on how life is a never ending war.
A short lived conquest over temptation,
A pyrrhic victory that claimed my sons.
All I'm left with are the lessons from proverbs,
The fear of God put in me, left from the boldness of youth.
Not any wiser, just sneakier.
Age bends spine when I just want to walk upright in Notre dame.
To stand up for love not having ever stood it up,
But I don't see how that is possible now.
I have gambled it away to earn myself this hatred.
I don't know where to start fixing the broken trust,
But if nothing else, believe I loved you.
If not, believe i loved you and a lot(...they really meant nothing,babe).
Holding a boom box on your front yard,
I bring the arc(k) home, dancing a fool outside you window
Yes - I’ve been there -
Where the shades of trains pummel
Silk, silvery tracks - whispering:
“Forward and Back - Forward and Back”.
And -
There were times I saw a traveller there, too
Praying - with a platform ticket in his palm
Wishing he could live the lie -
Or -
Have the engine take him -
Now -
To the Last Stop, on the Line.
The guilt of existence is eating me up.
It swallows my soul in a blackhole of grief.
The gravity of grief is ripping me apart into tiny molecules. I found pieces of me blending with the stardust and galaxies, some in the clouds, some in the oceans and some in the moon.
Some part of me is flowing with the rhythm of the ocean waves like my heartbeat, some part of me wants to dissolve in the sky with the clouds and be invisible to the point of pain and suffering my soul holds.
Some part of me is being compared to someone's lover in their eyes, some part of me is exploding into particles of dust and clouds of gases and being fragmented together again into whole like the strength with which I carry myself everyday to exist.
I am the residue of my pain, suffering, tears and grief which is the building blocks of a new beautiful life within me.
I am a moment, a memory,an emotion or your dream.
ONCE CREATED I CAN'T BE DESTROYED BUT JUST TRANSFERRED INTO OTHER FORMS
YES I AM THE UNIVERSE AND THE UNIVERSE IS ME.
Long before my petals and my roots rot
I find myself sinking in the soil with the memories I forgot
The cold snow towers above me leaving me buried and alone
This place I await frozen is my temporary home
May someone find me one day and bring me new life
But for now I wither away and out of everyone's sight
The world does not know I even exist beyond a warm spring day
After all is said and done I crumble to nothing and fade away
Specific Types of Loneliness Poems
Definition | What is Loneliness in Poetry?
Poems Related to Loneliness
heartache, desolation, solitude, alienation, aloneness, withdrawal, solitariness, seclusion, remoteness, forlornness, friendlessness, lonesomeness,