Long Loner Poems
Long Loner Poems. Below are the most popular long Loner by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Loner poems by poem length and keyword.
We need to leave it be,
in the rich black soil of the heavens
to forever change her color scheme
that big, beautiful, polished gem.
It's never tasted poverty or war.
Or had a tank rake a scar into its face.
No walls, roving gangs or abortion.
No endless coil of hissing hate.
If it could speak, it would say:
"Everything you've touched you've destroyed.
You've never been a peaceful race
You're covered in plastic, and the scat of nuclear war..."
"Leave me to my sea of tranquility.
My soul food is endless solitude.
God made me plain so no man would ravish me.
But mankind sure tried, but all in vain."
"Please stay where you're at,
chained to your blue island of self-pleasure and pain.
Stay on your own side of the horizon, I'll stay on mine.
I'm a thoughtful loner; you're a self-centered socialite.
Clean up your earth, air, water ...(our) sky.
Stop turning heavenly perfection into your personal stye.
Respect me-I'm your cousin.
Be a rose in the eyes of the creator's dream.
Not a snake impaled on the hiss of its greed.
He made me float…he made me beam with glee
I was once so sturdy…so robust with reverie
but, now I’m a sunken ship…everything’s gone unfortunately
Sponging in misery that I thought has disappeared into the reckless sea
Oooh…I must get a grip
Get a grip, man…
Oooh…I must take a dip
Take a dip into warmer waters
I don’t know what…I don’t know what to think anymore
Without you warming me up like a blanket,
I’m basking with bitter regret
Oooh…I must get a grip
Get a grip, man…
Don’t be a downer…(get a grip)
Don’t imitate me or you’ll end up like a loner
I’m a lonesome ghost…(I need you to take things in your own hands...you got the power!)
Hopeless in love…Our love is sour on a very unsettling hour
Trying to find friendship (on another level no doubt),
Overflowing with love…(something to marvel about)
I gottah get a grip someday!
(Get a grip) x3 Love is so overrated…
God’s love is so underrated
Worldly love is overstated
And I’ve waited for true love…
But my time was wasted
~~~Chorus~~~
I don’t know what to think of this
Might as well…might as well slip into the abyss
Kiss tragedy and wave a farewell
I miss you already…I’m under your wicked spell…
Oh well…I’m a boy and a loner,
Hopeless in love
So hopeless in love
Dealing with so much pain
Dripping continually like acid rain
Dealing with extreme separation anxiety
Ripping apart your ribcage, so I can be set free
So I can crawl out of captivity
Look at me…
Just look at me for a second or two!
Have you any empathy?
I see your eyes, soaking with tears, so blue
Don’t be a downer…(get a grip)
Don’t imitate me or you’ll end up like a loner
You’re a mind-blower! You got the power!
~~~~~~
Surveying
northern autumn afternoon
Pitcherelli, ex-marine, body-builder,
Lussier, long-haired father of three dark-skinned children
and myself, sharp-edged loner, ex-lover of a fair share of women
are belly-laughing in the dying sun. Clouds.
The crew, in timber.
Laughing
over recent visits to marvelous cities where
we could not keep ourselves from touching the terminal buds
of numerous exotic trees
and attracting ridicule of stylish girls and tame boyfriends.
Pitcherelli before the Albany bus station
shaking hands with a red pine planted thirty years ago.
Lussier, one hand in a child's hand and the other
feeling scabrous bark of urban woody plants.
Myself among partially shaved heads and leathery aromatic jackets
getting close to the hairy bud of an unidentified poplar or sycamore.
People
laughed, but we laughed best
back on our mountain
under the blackening weather.
The Webb’s my second Mommy and Daddy of the year ; It’s only June
Mr. Carver, the social worker rambles on as we pull into the driveway
My five year old eyes open wide as I see the giant mansion dotted with children
Ten new brothers and sisters, painfully shy, fear elevated to a joyful want of family
Sunday dinner, introductions: Mr. Webb a Fuller Brush salesman , meek and gentle
Mrs. Webb a stay at home Mom, a beautiful woman : with wicked sky blue eyes
Alice the oldest of us all, looked up to by her younger siblings ,the Rock of the kids
Virginia, frail , the twins Joe and Jim, rambunctious, Bobby, the loner, Millie,deaf
I would learn sign language. Rebecca, shy as me, William, Mom’s favorite. Dotty
The humorous one. George six month older than me, soon to be my closest brother
I slept well that night
Good morning, Harry I’m going to work I’ll be back Friday night, a chorus of Goodbyes
The nightmare begins : Harry you will call me Ma’am you snotty nosed little bastard
Alice, Joe, fill the bath tub this filthy little boy must be cleansed .Ma’am he’s only five
Don’t sass me ***** with a slap across the face Alice fell to the floor. The tub filled
The chlorine made my eyes water,tears rolled down my cheeks. Are YOU Crying?
If your going to live in this house YOU will be a man now scrub your genitals, did you
Hear me? Mom; several slaps to the head ,YOU WILL call me Ma’am, now scrub
With tears flooding my cheeks, Ma’am I don’t know what genitals are, the bleach burning
Ma’am beating me with a Fuller Brush scrub brush dry yourself, go upstairs get dressed
As I limped by the girl’s room I saw Millie, Ginny straped to their beds I started to help
Alice gently pulled me back : Don’t help them Harry Ma’am will beat you: but, but Why
The atrocities I saw that week scarred me for life Thank God, Mr. Webb came home early
Tuesday morning Ma’am in a straitjacket being put in a Police cruiser. All the children :
Heading to new Foster Homes : We kept in touch
Inspired by Deborah Guzzi”s Contest : Something wicked this way comes
"Reading comics can take you to a happy place, so one can be a lot less misanthropic" by Poet
I have always been a loner, an outsider
like a real life comic book Ghost Rider
often, I feel lost and forgotten
sinking in an ocean of pain unspoken
been banned, shunned and stabbed by life's daggers
this has left my soul in tatters
I have always been a loner, an outsider
like a real life comic book Ghost Rider
I'm no Hellboy just a guy with a broken heart
being hunted by rabid sharks that dart
but, I do no harm to anyone, I'm a good guy
this hunting is wrong and I ask why, why
I have always been a loner, an outsider
like a real life comic book Ghost Rider
I like this life as an outsider and will be this until I die
because it's been a wild journey that I ride
I spend time reading comics of my hero Moon Knight
he soothes and calms me from fear and fright
don't judge me by what others say
not a saint, not a sinner just a guy trying each day
I have always been an outsider
like a real life comic book Ghost Rider
I have always been an outsider
like a real life comic book Ghost Rider
I am a nerd/geek through and through,
my past time is seeing how something
works.
What really gets me going is numbers
and equations.
My nick name was little Einstein, I really
loved science.
I was the loner and math tutor after school.
Tutoring gave me the chance to socialize
and come out of my shell.
I enjoyed it until I had to tutor the captain
of our football team.
He was arrogant and he had the brains
of a kid in kindergarten.
And I was head over heels infatuated with
him.
Once we got over our stereotypes of each
other, we became fast friends.
He was actually smart and played the role
of an airhead.
When our walls came crashing down it was
a mutual attraction and respect.
I’m still pinching myself, who would have
thought the nerd and the captain(football)
would be together.
Yours truly,
Mrs Nerd
Alexis Y.
03-6-2020
I am the loner, the rebel
never the leader, I go my own way.
Never trying to run with the pack,
but ahead of them.
I never go where they go,
or do what they do.
Surviving amongst the solitude
of dense forests and misty fogs.
Living for the moonlit midnight hours.
Running wild and free
with the wind in my hair
and the moon
reflecting in my golden eyes.
My kind is close to extinction.
Only a few others remain
who are trustworthy,
only to them do I remain loyal.
I am unforgiving to those
who would dare to cross my path.
I am never afraid
to speak out into darkness.
My wail fills the night air,
a lone cry
not of sadness, or loneliness,
but of freedom,
to go my own way
and be a loner.
For Just That Archaic Poet's contest - "Personify Any Animal Of Your Choosing"
There were three men I knew—
friends like brothers,
bound together
as peas in a pod.
The first was the eldest,
his smile bright and tender.
He watched the others with glittering eyes,
a silent prayer upon his lips.
The second was a flirt,
a lover of women and of wine.
He often sat alone in the dark,
murmuring dreams of a life yet to be.
The third was the worst—
a loner who despised the world.
He held a scowl across his pretty lips
and wore despair like a cloak.
They were as close as blood,
these three strange friends,
and each bore a name of weight:
Hope, Dream, and Life.
Hope was gentle, radiant,
nurturing both his brothers,
his words like seeds of prayer
scattered across their days.
Dream was reckless and bright,
drunken laughter beneath the stars.
The starry night was his muse,
and the future, his whispered wish.
But Life—
Life was dark and full of hate.
One night he called his brothers to feast,
and slipped poison into their meals.
He watched them choke,
and when the silence came, he sighed.
For Life had nothing left to give—
nothing but hopeless despair.
So he stitched his lips with spells and jinx,
Cladding himself in hopeless despair
for there were no prayers left in his mouth—
Nothing but deathly despair.
Human, I am...
with a nagging existential curiosity
about people, nature, and life in general.
A spiritual being, I am...
I indulge in woolgatherings and strolls.
A poet, I am...
I'm always doing the cha-cha-cha with my muse.
I love to write; always jotting down
myriads of thoughts running through my head.
An eternal optimist, I am...
My cup overflows. I never drink from a cup,
half-empty.
A dove so peaceful, I am...
I'm often lost in meditation, in reverie.
Busy bee, I am...
You'll find me at work on weekdays doing the job
I enjoy, and doing it the best I know how!
A runner, I am...
I jog and sprint with friends. It clears the cobwebs in my mind!
Adventurous, I am...
I am on a perpetual search
for enlightenment and poetic inspiration.
A husband, I am...
I'm married to a precious, gorgeous lady named Helen.
An incorrigible romantic, I am...
Many of my love poems are about her.
A proud American son of Nigerian-born parents, I am
A brother, I am...
the second born of four siblings.
An older sister, a younger, a younger sister--last born.
Tall in stature, I am...
I'm 6 ft, 2.5 inches tall. I love being tall! Oh, yes indeed!
Fashion savvy, I am...
A sharp-dresser. Can't you tell from my avatar?
A quasi-masochist, I am...
I love achieving an end, the hard, gut-busting way!
A coconut, I am...
Despite a tough exterior, I'm quite tender on the inside!
Rather unique, I am...
half-loner, half-social animal. Full amazing brotha!
Creative, I am...
The inventor of a poetry form called "Yalto"
Bibliophile, I am...
A reader of books, poetry books especially.
Movie buff, I am...
When I'm not watching the news, I'm watching
a movie, which is every other day!
US Navy Veteran, I am...
Proudly served America.
Oh, I wish I could serve her all over again!
Date written and posted: 09/23/2018
The tale of Sad Sack Sammy,
So the story goes.
A walking, talking, whiner,
Suffering his woes.
He never ever smiled,
Had nothing good to say.
He whimpered like a sissy,
All the livelong day.
His mood would always swing,
At home or when at school.
Sometimes melancholy,
Then complaining like a fool.
A lousy, luckless, loner,
Grew up without a friend.
No one could stand his presence,
'Cause he ranted till the end.
His fate would change at Fifty,
This local resident.
He chose a different path,
And ran for President.
Now everyone that knew him,
Was caught up on the blind side.
When all the votes were counted,
He won it by a landslide.