Tunnel Poems - Poems about Tunnel

There is, there must be Ample light at the end of The tiring tunnel....

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i find myself lost in a crowd. i see a distant memory gaze by, everything falls silent even when this place was so loud. i tried to keep moving on past it, but now i find myself seeking that place. i have tunnelled too deep, we now stand face to face, i am gazing down the tunnel to her soul. as...

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with tunnel vision focus on you around you I see nothing else I've got e y e s only for you. you're...

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Little does my mind rest Wailing and scraping at the walls of my brain The feeling of being lost forefront Guiding lights leading me astray To find the end an impossible outcome Yet lying down to die not even a choice Trying to break the patterns I’ve set Failing to change who I am Maybe I don’t need to change Just find a...

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Cold walls line the filthy, darkened highway underground, A breathless void, where daylight never makes a sound. No leafy shroud to cloak my weary, rugged frame, Dilated eyes, weak, trembling, and steeped in nameless shame. I stagger on, my gaze a frantic, fearful sweep, A rat squeaks, scurrying beneath my calloused feet. A hand claws at my tattered bed sheet, sharp...

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How many railroad ties will it take to get from here to where I'm going. Aimlessly rolling along the tracks without noticing the boxcars of baggage I'd been stowing. So I slowly started sifting through forgotten freight as my rebuild picked up steam. Piecing myself back together with my updated route now clearly seen. It...

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This is a great way to start off a day Maybe one day a light can be used To show I'm more than just a simple human Have you seen a heart so pure of hatred? Removed the toxins inflicted by others Remember the way she said or he said A certain trigger that was reminded of Once...

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I walked through a tunnel like a finger rubbing around the inside of a wine glass round and round fround bround vround tround round and round through the tunnel as a funnel speeding up kround zround jround pround I walked through a tunnel down to the darkness down and down bown hown rown zown down and down round and round dark and stark I walked through a tunnel to myself...

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We stood lost in thought at the edge of the bridge Seeking answers to our hearts, just out of reach. The memories we shared linger like a mist In all my dreams, her face continues to beam. Hands wave in farewell, a bittersweet swing The last words we shared spoke of that final image....

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As I stand at the mouth of a tunnel I wonder what this journey will be— Trials, I know, are inevitable. I crawl into the tunnel's dark funnel With each step, shadows deepen around me— Trials, I know, are inevitable. What my emotions say, I don't settle I place my trust in instinct's...

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First I lost my mind, then my heart. And then my senses, I lost the whole of me. I was absolutely broken without immediate solution. But they say time would heal, When I was downcast from the top into the valley, Just like an outcast, I live in solitude. Others said you don't heal you just let go...

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The antiquated train tunnel had not been working for years. Paranormal researchers asked about it, but we did not encourage them. No one I knew had seen anything strange or weird there. I have clairaudient tendencies, and I had not heard anything. But they insisted on trying go conjure up something. I was amazed when I saw their completed documentary. Because...

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“Darkness does embalm; All things, getting calm, Produce an eerie feeling; Can it serve with a healing?” “Aye, aye, sure, sure! Such feelings do us lure, To approach its end.” “Can we reach, my friend? The tunnel’s too long; With the bats’ screeching song, It does sound so strange.” “We can’t fathom its range. The tunnel’s so profound With the sorrowing sound Of a wailing woman at a distance; Hush!...

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Mystified in the labyrinth of time, dug in the desolate desert of deprivation, one doesn’t discern in the psychic space what in the nebulous abstract notion the rationale of living the moments, people of speculative perception define as the articulate art of living, sensed in the free-will sunshine within the sanctuary of seraphic oasis. The survival struggle thrusts the...

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Peripheral vision lends its perspective ~ to quarrels' invective ...

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