Metaphor Loneliness Poems

These Metaphor Loneliness poems are examples of Loneliness poems about Metaphor. These are the best examples of Loneliness Metaphor poems written by international poets.

In just a day,
I lost my father, my mum,
and my only two siblings,
I became the only member of my family:
  my own father,
 

© Maclawrence Famuyiwa  

nothing seems to last
flowers weep faded petals
a faint scent lingers
once blooming in bright color
my poems have lost their appeal

emotions wither
wilted words whirl in the wind
bereft

© Eileen Manassian  

   in his sunset years he daily 
traversed a mile to smile
waiting  
         

© Ghairo Daniels  

If your misunderstood 
maybe God just left your definition out.
In an attempt to clarify something .
no one would understand.
You are a riddle,
for what its worth,
what

© joseph randall  

The palace of love we built ~  
when our blood still flowed very warm in our veins,  
     is

© Maclawrence Famuyiwa  

"Lingering leaves of gold
frolic in the autumn wind,"
Swept up by bygone breezes,
already collapsing
before they begin,
As disillusionment clouds an overtired soul—

Misplaced and irretrievable
To a society that

© Sara Jama  

A child's joy was taken at gunpoint
in a long, dark tunnel on a winter night~
as clouds drifted, whispering subconscious fears,
stirred by music played by demons,
loosed

© Maclawrence Famuyiwa  

I opened my eyes when it was too late.
The river passed before my wide-open eyes.
I missed my childhood;
I was a prisoner in my mind.
Neither God

© Abir Sawran  

An ominous trail
in their dark ashes—
each ellipsis
hid a treacherous bend.
I feel the camper’s
hollow rattle
between cracked ribs
that won’t quite mend.

Not their youth,
but mine—
still burning
in oil-smoke haze
too

© Lyric Man  

our beautiful balloon, about to burst,
  an endless journey meets its sudden end,
    forced to tango with our faults.
  photographs

© Maclawrence Famuyiwa  

I am nobody, nothing more or less 
than a pathetic line of symmetry.
In this paradox of existence,
a listless, feeble entity.
I am nothing more , and

© Cloud Fever  

A cold, silver knife
rests on my shaking fingers.
I graze the blade across my life;
the slicing of it lingers.
I push the metal through my skin,
right to

© Max Behrens  

I want to write a single line, just one,
to hold within my memoir’s quiet space,
where sorrow and joy dissolve together,
becoming something weightless, something whole.

Perhaps it

© Abir Sawran  

Wandering  the two in between the kingdoms 
One side, quiet and bright, flagged the havens
The other, earthly world, noisy and light dim
Drifting up or

© Xuefeng Pan  

I lie down in my four-poster bed, 
facing the pale yellow wall. 

The same that I see above, 
behind my headboard, 
opposite me. 

I drown

© Stasya Volkova