Long Solitarily Poems
Long Solitarily Poems. Below are the most popular long Solitarily by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Solitarily poems by poem length and keyword.
Mythological ruthless Cleopatra
Larger than life in 30 B.C.
Her Achilles’ heel being Mark Antony
His untimely death too much to bear
Solitarily confined in her mausoleum
Desperately recluse with her royal asp
Her only sanctioned confidente
Sole witness to her feverish distress
Through a night ever dark and bitter
Raging with unbearable emptiness
Kiss me Take me
In an embrace of death
Royal prince of the Nile
I give myself wholeheartedly
With consummate abandon
Kiss my eyes closed
Let me drift into a deep sleep
As you expedite me to my lover
Where we shall reign again
United in the afterlife
AP: 2nd place 2021
Submitted on April 28, 2018 for contest ASP sponsored by ANTHONY SLAUSEN - RANKED 7TH
Memories blurred in the past,
At most I can outline the images
Of times, they are everlasting.
My mind’s functioned to forget,
So I should never hold regret.
Yet my soul constantly reminds me
Of a memory and many more.
Moments now like distant memories.
My imagined reality is I’ve been at sea.
Willingly solitarily alone, on a journey
To find myself and somewhere else
Where I can just be free.
Memories lost in a stream of time,
Different streams going in and out
Of those surrounding seas.
A land, so far away, where I used to be.
Drifting amidst eternal wind.
Moments truly now faded memories,
Honestly I am deluded in the belief
That nothing repeats, when really
Someday it all does someday
Flood back into me as what
Seems to be someone else’s memories.
(thus, I revel to reveal
more'n juiced poppycock
perhaps casting impression,
I hale from Mars,
thus this wordsmith
willfully exposes emotional scars.)
Fear of challenging myself,
and/or lack of where
with all to confront
psychological
(dis) comfort zones,
that passivity did veer
really inadvertently,
currently indirectly,
galvanically charged
as deaf fence sieve barrier
and hermetically, inherently
sealed (unclear)
to me how to dispatch
i.e. (muster)
courage to tear
down invisible
barricade shuttering
acute (oblique striated
mein kampf existence),
thee dulled eyes
didst blankly stare,
ring just beyond
the impaled psyche
liberation i.e. freedom rare
rung only plaintively relished
by this self condemned,
cuz aye felt
scared (to death) living,
which may seem *****
nearly equivalent
being solitarily confined,
with absolute zero chance
(on broken wing or prayer)
life sentence,
would NEVER be commuted,
asper this outlier,
and/or less
prospect for parole
never came near
well nigh since birth
(as this popping
creaking, and crack
ling body electric
inexorably approaches
LX orbitz
around Earth) mere
lee experienced his existence,
not worth
any king to leer
not even worth
Doppelganger to jeer
only the hollow echo strictly
I can only hear
as an aging toothless
grimacing crookedly
raggedy man doth glare
from cracked mirror,
twill bid fare
well to optimism - endear
himself to forfeit any dare
ring do only
remaining holed up
sitting against
a hard backed chair
reflecting on bleakly obtuse
countless unmet dreams bare
heft desolate freight tinned woes
only thru limply
lame poetry I can air.
Do not look to me with questioning eyes
For i do not possess the answers you seek
i cannot taste the bitter sweetness on your tongue,
or smell the withered flowers along your path
My heart beats with less rythm than your blues
i am unable to stumble through your dark corridors,
for you are poet undiscovered
Your answers are hidden deep within an apathetic pen
For you hide behind a painted closed window
Pushing too little
arriving late
Not aware of your own relevance
Solitarily, feeling sorry for yourself
When instead, pity could be your party
Yes it is true, the world celebrates sad clowns
But you do not let laughter mix with your grey sky tears
i myself, see images of you poured out on limitless pages
Rearranged
Sculpted
Until your words have substance
Becoming living and breathing beings
I wish you to reveal to us your cherished children
Birth them to a forgiving unforgiven world
Risk the grasping hands of rejection
True courage will reveal your annoited pen
Without risk
you cannot
will not
bleed in rainbowed splendor
Instead, days will become years
Yesterday will slide into tomorrow
All the while the world would be less
A shadow of what it could have been
In a place of unawareness
Oblivious to its own lacking
Bathed in deprivation
All because
Of a missing
Unexpressed
Silent
Unexplored
voice!
Or maybe
Just maybe
One letter
A tiny little letter
will grow into a word
Several strung together a stanza
Several stanzas a poem
An honest to goodnes poem
Then we will all be witnesses
To the emergence
The screaming or quiet entrance
The proverbial birth
of a singular voice
of a wide eyed dreamer
Then you will feel that collective sigh
as other broken dreamers applaud you
For on that day
If only you possess the courage
all will know
That you truly are
and always have been
a Poet!
For Tyshawn Knight's "Words of Wisdom" contest
Re edited version.
"footprints 2"
"Go gliding like an Eagle
where Poets go
music will lead -
through truth,
Love will show"
He said,
"When you think
all is gone,
that’s where real
Love
will show..."
"Fire and Lava flows,"
He said,
"Hell freezes over
While Snowglobes
are turned upside down
and smashed on
The Road..."
Teardrops on The Fraz
knows,
watching
tears falling warm
tears falling slow
He turns over
The Snowglobe
The Past
slowly lets go
From a prison
released
Solitarily
Unconfined,
Slow
"Go gliding like an Eagle
where Poets go
music will lead -
through truth,
Love will show"
She said,
"Freedom. Keys. Piano."
(LadyLabyrinth/2019)
I stand here solitarily, silently, solemnly
Sipping on a weird mushroom latte coffee.
I am unsure what I should even feel or think
About your passing, 'cause I'm on the brink.
I stand here alone boiling some eggs.
I know I can stand alone on my two legs.
On the inside I wish I could've said goodbye,
But as you'd say: you just need a good cry.
I stand here wondering what am I doing.
I'm sorry for being seemingly so confusing,
But I feel I never truly belong anywhere,
So I live my life without regrets or any care.
I stand here believing you're somehow here,
But it's okay if you must truly disappear
Onto the Other Side, or even be reborn,
Just please heal my heart of death's scorn.
The house of my dreams,
A place where everything
Is filled with my imagined themes.
Dream house,
A dome roof of glass,
All stars in viewing.
The house of my dreams,
A place where all seems
So clean and at peace.
Dream house,
A windmill alongside solar mirrors,
Renewing source of energy.
The house of my dreams,
A place to swim and feel free,
Swimming pool and coastal scenery.
The house of my dreams,
A place where everything
Is of my heart's desire.
Dream house,
A shelf of books,
My little library.
The house of my dreams,
A place where I live solitarily
In few rooms yet so leisurely.
Dream house,
A home for my soul,
Place to feel safe and whole.
The house of my dreams,
A place where I am meant to be,
Well-earned ideal became real.
Dream house,
My home just for me,
Own little world only for me.
He visits the coffee shop every week
On Thursday, his personal treat
Buys skinny latte, with biscotti
Then takes his regular seat
In the alcove, by the window
Sits to watch the world go past,
With book taken from his ‘man-bag’
Settles, to enjoy his repast
He used to come in with his ‘Mrs’
Now he frequents on his own,
Looking out of the window, and reading
He’s content with sitting alone
Odd times, when the shop is busy
Someone will take up the opposite chair
Some, if inclined, he’ll talk to
Most, he won’t notice are there
He’s happy in his own world
Simply, just getting by
At times, he looks so lonely
It breaks my heart, and I could cry
There must be others, in the world like him
Widowed, divorced, estranged,
Who keep on going through the ‘old routine’,
Living in fear of change
Acting out the old adage of ‘life goes on’
When they lose husband, partner or wife,
Sticking with the same day to day regimes
To help them muddle through life
Maintaining the familiar,
Can help you to stay strong,
Until the day you find yourself ready for change;
You’ll feel the time’s right to move on
Until that day for ‘The Man in the Window’ arrives
He’ll keep visiting every week,
Persisting in his habitual routine
To find the solace he seeks
For now, he sips the last of his coffee,
Neatly packs away his tome;
With a nod of farewell to the barista’s
Solitarily, leaves, to head home.
We used to share dreams;
thoughts, my sister and me.
I occupied the top bunk, she the lower
in the cold, dank bedroom
we once inhabited from dusk to dawn.
Not prophetic dreams, the future;
we had no perception, illusions.
No exchanging, dissembled violent nightmares,
or nightly voyages traveled solitarily.
But joint adventures that filled the time
between awakening and permission to arise.
An alternative to staring quietly
at a half a dozen lazy flies
performing elaborate cotillion
around a solitary bare lightbulb.
The game was simple; A subject was agreed,
then tiny imaginary books pressed tightly
into blinkered eyes would lightly lead us
to places, we could simultaneously inhabit.
Seamless journeys to picture-postcard lands,
often hand in hand with much-loved authors.
Young Spanish kings, wise Arab princes,
Pink fairy queens and fiery golden dragons.
Flying, swimming, never falling, never drowning.
No words spoken; vividly shared visions;
two young minds together, escaping;
to places far less painful than reality.
Secret sacred memories;
each one I can still recall, relive, enjoy.
A Tender Moment From Childhood Poetry Contest: Placed 2nd
Sponsored by: Malabika Ray Choudhury
Date wrote: 05-June-2021
The clattering fan
brushes the
hair from my eyes
And
through
sunspots
in clean window patches
I watch them
walk by
Do they see
What
I see
With the trees so delicately catching the wind
And
The
dew drops reflect
light from
its leaves
which clap and wave
with their long branches
almost to welcome us forward
A child
Joyously
pushes past
A muttering
couple
She reaches her tiny hands to the sky
laughing
to catch her red balloon
The wind
exhales
as the balloon dances
and bobs around
the people in the square
who fail to notice its invitation
She doesn’t fail to notice its magic
And tries to save it
From venturing into the unknown
BUT
the wind
hugs its tiny string
and I watch
as that tiny balloon falls into the great blue
abyss
I want to soar
like that red balloon
I want to escape
such day to day trivialities
But
who will catch me
and bring me back home
when I feel I have ventured to far
Shaking my head as a I awake from my daydream
I watch
as a lonely
windswept newspaper
is blown about
in each direction
Does anyone else see
How it like us
IT
Is just full of confusion
Aimlessly wandering
For
That place
To call our own.
I want to be that newspaper
Constantly fighting for control of
its destiny
and now
it sits solitarily in a patch of weeds
and
The
soil
absorbs its print
as it becomes one with the earth
i smile
because I shared a private moment
with
the
world.
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