Long Solitude Poems
Long Solitude Poems. Below are the most popular long Solitude by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Solitude poems by poem length and keyword.
"Life after fifty is nifty"
There's much to see and do
Adult children are delightful
Some hobbies to pursue
Each year lived grows more precious
Aware of each year a gift
There is beauty unseen waiting
To give the soul a lift
Dawn feeds the spirit's deep longings
To reach out and commune
In quiet solitude nature
Sings morn's wake up tune
Life after sixty grows harder
Aches and pains touch most days
Treasure each second spent sharing
Love in various ways
Contest: Birthday And Aging Humor
Sponsor: Carolyn Devonshire
Written by: Sara Kendrick
May 17 and 18, 2014
Voices chatting and chattering
Voices, everywhere, all around me
Sometimes they do come to an abrupt silencing
Sometimes, they keep going on continually
Such does be for me, the sounds of the day
Sounds of children trying to work while being at play
Children made of moods, of whims, of issues
Children, yes, because such does be what my duty woos
Pray, do children not represent the continuity of life
I know, I know, they do nearly drain my health
But then, children's smiles do be so lovely
Yes, children's chattering while working do be a melody
Voices, voices everywhere, surrounding me, calling me
Heeding me, answering to me,
Even chatting with me
Stories I do get to hear, stories of each and every little family
Pray, would there be a hope for tomorrow without children
Would life be seen as a thing so golden
If children do cease to be,
Pray, life would come to its end!
Worse, if children do cease to smile
Pray, the skies themselves would no more be able to pretend
That everything does be fine
That life to us all, shall be docile
Why, chatting voices, chattering voices, the sounds to fill up my days
Pray, sometimes I do feel like running towards solitude
But then, children do make a sight so cheerful, their joy does urge me to say hurray
Pray, children do will me to see my duty as being made of certitude!
See, when they do chatter away
I do know that they do be fine
Such a sound, to my heart does say
Pray, just move along and do join the fun!
I’m wondering - how much is enough?
given fact: this line is but a throng.
One who does not shield his hacking cough
is brushing up against my sarong.
I’m wondering - how much is enough?
One who's followed at my heels so strong
ignoring what really ticks me off.
He's almost shoving - it's downright wrong.
I’m wondering - how much is enough?
He is bothered; the wait is too long.
My grandson has proved he's tired but tough,
He’s fallen asleep, humming a song.
I’m wondering - how much is enough?
given fact: this line is but a throng.
written July 9, 2016
the rebelelle sonnet was created by a poet who calls himself, Rebel Coyote. I can't find his real name, perhaps he wishes to remain anonymous. Specs for the form: 9 syllables per line: 14 lines (3 quatrains, 1 couplet): rhymed ABab, Abab, Abab, Abab AB.
Infinite solitude
I don't know what that is
But I know Poet Helal Hafiz
I know he was not good in the life of love
But love is the true food of his poetic dove
Oh, Helen of Netrakona destroyed the Troy of poetic vision
Love killed the poet on the illusive path of economic session
Very naive, the poet was very simple like the water
But in that water burning love and rebellion were
No, love is nothing else except the horrible brutal hangman
In whose hands the poet has given his life to make an interment
I know you were not good
In this journey, I still say - stay well, O Poet of Sooth
© Mahtab Bangalee
17th December, 2024
Chattogram
Fire flies : Glow worms in warm glow
Glistening Glowing Glittering
Sparkling shining twinkling blinking
Slipping on dense bushes, upon mass of mossy grass
Flickering ! Fantastic spectacular show at night :
Amazing awesome unique scene.
Marvellous Miraculous non parallel dancing display
in own specific whimsical fashionable approach in dazzling design
An Ecstatic Etherial scenario on preparation
of sacred funeral of cluster of d lovely fireflies
in sublime solitude : Self immolation
to divinity : Bright lifestyle of fireflies
Tear drops roll down my cheeks.
Blessed with mirror-touch synaesthesia!
Claircognizant empaths - inflame my aphasia.
I know, I know - the die is cast!
Eh! Still words - pierce through my silent heart.
Leave me – leave me!
I need time to talk with my soul.
For no one knows – why!
Why emotions welled up so high?
How would you know - the reason behind my sigh!
And why such deep grief and frown?
And why the frozen sea melted down?
And the pain behind my collapsing castle!
How intense is my tussle!
Yeah! How would you know?
What I just lost was my holy grail!
All I need is solitude to sail!
Playing music of magical mythological sound
As if meditating to mesmerize those around,
Lion and tiger bow down being spellbound,
Legendary painting depicts myths profound.
Hands hold the lyre, strings echo the singer,
Mythical lyrics reverberate and aurally linger.
Shoulder muscles restrain his leaning stance,
Animals hypnotized, intently stare in trance.
Silent posture manifests solitude in his eyes,
Naked features divulge feelings they surmise.
Mystical potent image seeks union with God,
Intellectual persona leaves everyone awed.
He could tame the beasts and calm the rivers,
He could charm a snake without any shivers,
Guide and write of artistic human endeavors,
Create and sing musical themes lasting forever.
His bold naked appearance may reveal a strife,
A delicate mannerism makes it abundantly rife.
Engrossed in quest of music he perfected lyre,
Rhythm and lyrics conspired to artfully inspire.
Look beyond curiously to unveil the mortal,
Greek myths venerate him like an immortal.
A poet, musician, and a wizard of distinction,
Small group of doubters caused his extinction.
First Place
October 9, 2017
Painting: Orpheus by Franz Stuck
Poems that paint a picture 4
Sponsor: Silent One
Ralph Waldo Emerson: “A woodland walk, a quest for river-grapes, a mocking thrush, a wild rose or rock-living columbine, salve my worst wounds.”
SUFFERING SEASON
broken…
the sediment — a deposition seed,
of what meaning, this scrawl?
splinters splayed, suffering season
comforted by a columbine.
pressed into the carnivorous cranny
of melancholic chords, phantom phenom
appears from sunless shadows,
felicitous with numb heartstrings.
pretense of petals pierced,
potent poison’d creative mind.
woman in white, welded to hatchery,
sings wisdom and solitude —
shy flower cranes its head to listen.
rebirth croons in crannied space,
cramps of convalescence released.
a lonely boy. . . the florid dove lands
on two fingers, he’s mesmerized —
the apparition strokes his hair.
2/21/2020
Flower in the Crannied Wall Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Craig Cornish
Sometimes…
Some days…
All I got,
Is me
Though many stand by me,
None stand with me
Others survive with support
From their, supporting cast
While I…
Embody the entire burden
While I…
Withstand the mighty winds
And maintain among the quick sands of destruction
Many nights…
Many dawns…
All I got,
Is me
I am my own hero
I am my own love
Existing, in my own little oasis
Through the low and high tides,
I remain afloat
Treading, with the most minute strength
My solitude, is sanctuary
My isolation, is home sweet home
My beginning…
My end…
All I got,
Is me
So until I am the recipient of my, supporting cast,
Until I am granted another love,
Until company, becomes my residence,
Sometimes…
Some days…
All I got,
Is me
Adrift, upon un-rippled, thoughtless, ponds
floating in this moment everlasting
no wake – no destination – just here now
observed by nature’s watchers smiling eyes.
Soft breeze – a humming chant- among the trees
rhythms tone induced by branch and leaf
silent wings - fluffed glide - above the fray
rising upon the exhaled breath of peace.
Sun’s warmth a kiss blown from a star
unraveling the ice of ageless angst
soothing forever’s path to solitude
each ever present moments whispered “OM”.
©5/3/2018
submitted to – The Beauty of Solitude – Poetry Contest
sponsor – Line Gauthier