Long Loneliest Poems
Long Loneliest Poems. Below are the most popular long Loneliest by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Loneliest poems by poem length and keyword.
~MY PEARL WITHOUT PRICE~
MANY YEARS I SO SAILED,’PON TH’ LONELIEST OF SEAS...
SEARCHING VAST THEIR DEPTHS,FOR AN TREASURE MOST ELUSIVE...
NO FEAR NOR DOUBT WOULD DENY ME,WHAT DESTINY DETERMINED MINE...
‘VEN TH’ LEVIATHAN PERMITTED TO TEST ME,WOULD NOT STALL ME FROM MINE AIM...
THROUGH AN TEMPEST MIGHTLY GALE’D,MINE SHIP WAST MADE KINDLED…
FOR DEAR’ST LIFE ON CROSSED REMNANT OF MINE MAST,I CLUNG MIDST TH’ TORRENTS...
TH’ WAVES CHASTENED ME SORE PUNISHED,AS MY SENSES WERE LOOSING THEIR GRASPS...
FADING FROM TH’ JET’ST BLACK TO LIGHT,I WAST SURE MY DEMISE HAD BEEN ORDERED DUE...
WEARY’D I ‘WOKE TO DAWN,BY AN FINE’ST MIST ‘PON MINE FACE…
INTO TH’ BEYOND ‘FORE ME,GLEAMED AN MAJESTIC TAIL SLIP’D TO TH’ NAUT’...
‘HEAD OF IT’S LINGER’NG COURSE,AN EMERALD COAST STRAINED FORTH TH’ DISTANCE...
WITH ONLY TH’ STRENGTH OF MINE SPIRIT,MINE NUMB’D LIMBS TREADED HASTE’LY ON...
CLOSER I MADE MY WAY,TO TH’ HEAVEN THANKFULLY BLESSED ME…
ALMOST OF IT’S GOLDEN SHORE,AN MOST FAMILIAR SEEMED SHELL LAY’D WIDE...
’TWAS MOST GRAND IN MY LENGTH OF JOURNEYS,THAT MINE EYES HAD NEVER EMBRACED...
SLIGHT OF STIR IN TH’ MIDST OF IT,WAST SOMETHING THAT YET MY MIND COULD’ST INDUCE...
AS MINE FEET MADE HOST TH’ SAND,I FORWARD’D 'TORTH TH’ TREES…
INSIDE TH’ SHELL NOW EVIDENCED,TH’ MOST BEAUTY OF FORM GRACED PRECISE...
MY SEARCH NOW EVER END’D SURE,”MY GOD,HOW MOST GREAT OF ALL ARTISTS...BE THEE!”...
“TH’ MOST PRECIOUS OF ALL THINE CREATIONS,IS MINE NOW AT LAST…MY ONE N’ ONLY…
…“PEARL WITHOUT PRICE!’
(‘~AZAZA’~)
I sit on the terrace
Of Le Cafe du Coeur
The morning sun, bringing subtle rays of hope
To this otherwise dull moment
I sip mon cafe, dreaming of others
And other times
Fine linen paper, pen in hand
The loneliest poem in all the land
The words flow, ink to paper
One line at a time
They sing of thoughts
Emotions long drained, other times
It is time for a walk to nowhere
Along the banks of a river with no name
I leave the cafe table, a cafe with no fame
I left the poem, with empty glass, alone
There sits this poem, written for no one
On a table, in quiet solitude
Waiting for the next clientele to arrive
The waiter clears the empty glass, no more…
She sits, alone, the day begun
Her life a mystery to us all
As she sees this paper of fine linen
With words, so elegantly scrawled
The waiter with espresso in hand, smiles
As she reads a strangers words
They speak to the very desires of her heart
They tell her who she is
This sunny day turns to rain
As her tears wash the table cloth
She weeps
For finally, she knows
Who she desires
A poet with no name
My intellect is what helps me.
I can jump into the purely rational space and deal.
But it's very lonely.
I lived like that for years at a time.
And, we sometimes love an idealized version of someone, the person they projected but aren't.
And maybe they are striving to be that.
Many times they aren't.
But still love still exists, intact.
And only proximity and contact keep it front and center.
Of course there is loving someone and being "in love".
And the being in love, that part is just not controllable.
Like wildfire it consumes you.
And for us dispassionate logical thinkers, it's a rather irrational but heady space to be in.
And for those who can't process emotion in real time.
Well we are more than a step out of pace.
We are left holding the bag when someone emotionally ducks out and runs for cover.
To be emotionally ghosted is about the loneliest place you can be.
Of course they do it because they can't face the emotion either. Even if perhaps they elicited it.
And so its many lonely trails and several lonely tales I have of love gained and lost to time.
Sometimes I know what happened, and sometimes just poof in the wind it was released and gone.
I try not to malign the lover, even if they failed basic human communication. Some can't face the heat. I get it.
But it's why many times I prefer the lonely trail.
Alone is safer, darker but free. Free of all restrictions to be whatever I may be.
For life is just a journey and there are only mere blips of rest along its path.
And chaos will occasionally visit and subject you to its wrath.
Till in the end it takes you.
Till in the end it takes you. Artimus (C) Susan Manley 3/5/24 7:04PM
I had a long, peaceful sleep last night,
didn't attempt to take a single bite;
hurriedly, I descend the steepest stairs...
to greet the coolest friend with braids!
It's wonderful to say, " Good morning!"
to anyone you happen to meet along
the busy street or avenue,
or whoever you bump into;
it's the grooviest greeting,
that can be so pleasing!
I've gotten back from work and taken off my black leather boots,
so glad I made home safely listening to some sweet tunes;
surely Delilah can pick the right song for the loneliest lover,
her radio show is flooded with requests from fans near and far!
" Good morning " are the nicest words that can make somebody's day less moody;
say them aloud with the sweetness and thrill of your favorite disc jockey,
who over the radio station waves kindly asks who is calling...
then shouldn't you hum that delightful song while you're walking?
And as you rush to your destination, shout with joy the grooviest greeting
that people are anxious to hear by starting their day with your, " Good morning! "
Community of the Campfire
David J Walker
I
I’d forgotten the scent of the campfire
And its sense of mystery and
Community for the few who
Were invited to its borders
Offering its view of a flame
Named eternity
If only it could be harnessed and
Deciphered
II
Mother and Father
Built a campfire near a windmill
On the loneliest road
In New Mexico
They laid out in a pallet of quilts
Under the stars
While the children slept in
The spacious back seat of
A Hudson
In the morning we gathered
At the fragrant heat of dried
Mesquite branches on fire
As Mother made a breakfast of
Dice spam cooked in scrambled eggs
III
The first thing on our arrival
At the San Isabel Campgrounds
Was to gather up the
Dry tender kindling while father
Picked out the larger branches
To make a fire
The mountains provided the pine while
He used his crossbow saw and an ax
To attack the chore as a man with experience
I watched and learned as the
Campfire burned in the pit
Later I would mimic it
IV
On crisp Autumn Sunday mornings
My love and I would sit
In our backyard Garden of Eden
By a raised firepit
Warming ourselves
As the morning sun rose
Wondering if
Adam and Eve had it so good
Anyway, we had clothes,
Hoodies and sweats
And no snakes to contend with
I'm a famous actress, folk flock to me
like cattle.
When I say jump, they say how high.
I've always loved the spotlight as a kid,
I was the outspoken one; I was never
shy.
I've been performing all my life; I was
in school plays, I was the president
of the drama club in middle and high
school.
Anything that involved acting and
performing I was your girl.
I have a husband, two kids and
I have other family members that
say they love me.
A big house and more money
than I can spend.
But something is missing; I have
folk around me, and I’m the
loneliest I have ever been.
On the path to my personal life
and career of choice I lost me.
People pool at my feet but don't
know me, because I don’t know
me.
I long to know “ Who am I?”
Alexis Y.
03/02/2021
He was outside of life
Alone and floating in the void
But not in some beautiful or ethereal way
Not in some way that elevated him to the casts of godhood or seams of men that walked the earth with faces of iron and dresses of gold
Instead it was some wretched, lonely way
A creature cast into the void, not elevated by the hand of the great one
He was not beyond, but instead outside the music of creation
Intertwined with nothing, yet a spectator of the seams of silver and life and water and flesh that the peoples who were not retched were more than entitled to
But it was not for him. Not by meaning nor design. Soft dew of mist was but a cloying fog, and eloping bark of trees was but plastic. But even cloying fog and hard plastic felt as if he were not entitled to them
I stress once more. He belonged to nothing. In the loneliest of ways such that the feeling of loneliness rejected of him his spirit, and he was left only with his rotten flesh
And so he would indulge in the flesh
To fill his stomach. To flood his brain. To drip from his eyes. A sinking ship, forever to not reach the sand of the bottom of the sea but to find some in-contempt contentment in the smothering of dark water
Monkey see, monkey do!
I'm a great mimic
that comes alive,
only when you do.
I follow your lead,
and sometimes you follow mine.
When you turn your back to me,
I still tag along.
I'm perpetually tethered to you,
as though I'm your guardian angel.
I keep you company
in your loneliest moments.
I do feel ignored by you
notwithstanding our life-long togetherness.
We've been inseparable since
your birth and I'll be buried with you.
Tell me your innermost secrets;
I'll never share it
I disappear into oblivion;
in the absence of light.
Is that why you never pay attention to me?
I silhouette so you would notice me
Why? Because you have a tendency
to forget I exist.
If I had the tiniest sliver of a voice,
and you could somehow hear it,
I'd coax you to dance with me
out on a bright sunny afternoon.
Just don't chase after me,
you'll never catch me.
Don't reach to grab me,
you'll never seize me.
I'm your shadow...
Date written and posted: 11/18/2018
It's there I sat, in a shower of spray.
In that of warmth as the shower sprays.
In that of heart as the water fills the part.
Deep in my mind the water runs broad.
But there in soul, you liquefy my thoughts.
As you run like water through heart and soul.
As a warmth of water, you cover each drop that falls.
It is there to which you are a shower of love.
As I have found myself showered with love.
With that of comfort and soothing warmth.
You have changed my temp, to luke warm.
It's being next to you to which I melt.
As the water falls from my heart at melt.
It is there behind the curtains to which you don't see.
That of the nakedness to which has brought me to this scene.
That of a love divine to which reins in my heart and time.
As there's nothing but just thoughts of you, showering my mind.
As each thought of you seems lonelier, as the water wash down the drain.
It's there to which is my loneliest when I sat alone.
Thats there's nothing but you in thought as I remember what we shared.
With that of love and happiness and companionship we compare.
But it is that of emptiness and distance to which I cry.
As your love, I have found none to which compares.
To the feeling I felt when you showered me with your love.
With that of your heart you care but that of your words that cut down deep.
As you said you cared and would never part.
But now, there's distance and us far apart.
As I have found myself sitting here feeling that of no love.
As it is just me as my tears wash away that of old love.
But iit is that of a showering love.
To which has brought me crying out for love.
As you have caused my heart to shower in tears of love.
As with you, I have found that of a showering love.
And that was having you and the warmth of your love.
Yesternight, I dreamt of you and all our
together times. My soul swelled with the sincerest
love and lips parted in the merriest laughter,
In my fantasy, you spoke softly with
the lilt of lilac melodies... My heart picked up some
strange sussurating rhythms and a pleasurable pain
assaulted my semi-drowned senses ~ Incredible feeling this is!
Did we hold hands? Or is my imagination fraught
with frenzied desire? The day we first met in 'our'
garden behind your house brings back the sweetest
memories... I still hear and rejoice with the songs
of finches, bees and the billowy breeze. Then, there are
the myriad flowers I scent even today! Those
wildflowers you wove into a beautiful bouquet that
Spring evening? - I have them preserved - Yes, they tell
me the 'secrets' we shared and our promises of
'forever'... Emotion in my eyes as devotion cries in my saddest,
loneliest hour, I wish dreams came true! ~ my last coherent thought...
"Our sincerest laughter
With some pain is fraught;
Our sweetest songs are those that tell of saddest thought."
Percy Bysshe Shelly – To a Skylark