Reclusive Poems - Poems about Reclusive

Reclusive Writer Avoid society Avoiding the light Always a pen in hand Footprints in the sand Ponder the night Black ink bleeds off the pages Mind always racing Reasoning between the lines A poet is isolated Solitude in darkness Just a small candle glaring My shadow whispers next to me Focus on my work A...

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Dancing in the Rain ...

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I Have Finally Worked Me out. I’m impulsive I never stay when I want to leave I’m annoying They feel it, but are too polite to say. I’m opinionated So much so, I show my own stupidity I’m explosive My temper sometimes lets loose I’m a recluse I love being alone, in my own company I’m scared Mostly by things which will never happen I’m suspicious I trust very...

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Wanting to shrug off this shell, break loose from me Silence that damn hermit, hiccuping under his tree Trapped inside too long, dormancy dreams to wake Disgorging bubbly lava, fills in soporific landscapes Longing to escape soft tissue, cast off mortal bones Break shackles of mundanity, rid life’s infernal drone Out there lies all answers, beyond the...

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Alone within emotional wilderness (mine) biding leisure time January 19th, 2020 without reason nor rhyme, yet woke with sublime pained acute awareness, how once prime merrily rightful autochthonous occupants their land stole equivalent value not much more'n dime. Simple man dwells admiring mother nature's architrave home of the free land of the brave usurped with exacting vengeance aboriginal happy hunting grounds, yours truly cloistered within man cave small medium at large...

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I am sick of excuses to avoid responsibility and I am, today, sick with excuses to avoid responsibility with "I'm just a mortal human. I make mistakes. I judge situations and relationships, assess potential risks to care and nourishing choices badly sometimes." I do. And so do you. At the same time, I applaud mutually transparent accountability to always do our best, to apply Golden...

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How far gone reclusive am I? My favorite outdoor activity is going back inside....

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The more time alone I spend apart From the vulgar traffic of the earth It is the more wisdom fill my heart And the more I come closer to birth Through each metamorphosis of thought For all my life there was this pressure This culture of what should be despite Of what I was born to be. This erasure Of something substantial for...

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my weary bones I shall bathe, my wary mind I shall reassure, my worried soul I shall ease there in a cool, secluded pool where chaste rivulets converge after seeping...

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