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[Hermit]
/ˈhɝmɪt /
A recluse; someone who lives alone and shuns human companionship.

One last promise of a kiss; but who hears the words of
someone’s misplaced lips— Memories are all archived, those
experiences, a treasure to bury deep in the chambers of a heart
And any extra time: an excuse for me to procrastinate…how I
choose to express my reasoning, is an explanation for another day

for the all the memories we had, will all remain locked away
our experiences a treasure I’ll never get the pleasure to
saviour in their worth. and any reason to chase after them
all in a day, becomes the procrastination of tomorrow…
our story ends here


In a thin book of divination; the conclusion of a love
that had the fill of a loaf of bread- here we are- with the
crumbs, holding onto what’s left. There is no grasping it.
All climaxes eventually fall into the obscurity of being
an old familiar harmony; the laughs of many, soon becomes
the quit chuckles of one who sits later alone. And all joyous
songs must play their very last chord

anticlimactic will be the story of us, painfully laughing ourselves
to sleep— those fortunate enough to sing our once beautiful song-
the words, chords, keys, and harmonies are all gone…
our story ends here


I am something inadequate; a follower to the gun,
the bullet that led me astray in its cold lead. Still don’t
lend me your sorrow; shunning the idea of love
For the gun that killed a benevolent concern, was
a gun I had pointed at myself.

                                          …Bang!
Sophie Mar 2022
A moment in time and space,
a white scar against a fawn hand
indigo iris inside a colorless eye,
and burning rose into pale cheeks.

This was permanence, before it was
torn apart by its own user,
in anxious desperation for the
imminent future, which promised
absolutely nothing to her.

And they wondered why she couldn’t
get on with the others.
More to be seen and less to be
heard,
a quiet life to be lived out,
alone; painlessly.
a girl who cannot fathom the external world in relation to society or other people. she cannot make herself perform for the others, which is all they want her to do. she is promised nothing in return, and should only hope for the best outcome in life, but she does not feel the need to make excessive efforts if the outcome is not fixed, or if she should not get anything she wants. she wants more certainty in her future, she doesn’t like the open-endedness of things. she would prefer to live alone in peace than take big risks without knowing whether or not they will pay off
annh Feb 2022
Let me fall
Deeply into the heart
Of the wanderer,
Under the dappled skin
Into the belly of the thing
Heavy and warm;
The hermit and the outcast
Is met in me
By the stomp of a hoof,
The shifting
Of weight
As he steadies himself;
I look down at my feet
Aware of toes and heels
Colliding with the ground.

I met an Appaloosa the other week. Pale, dappled and distant among a herd of sleek blacks and solid chestnuts. His name is Cherokee.

‘Blame it or praise it, there is no denying the wild horse in us.’
- Virginia Woolf, Jacob's Room
Bowedbranches Dec 2021
The craving had been
More of a need
As of late

Energy taken
Energy generated
Or one could also say
One cultivated
One gave away
Every little thought
That you think

Isolated
from the rest of you
With steel walls
And the tallest gates
Barricade myself
In a little
Me sized
Cave

Wouldn't be surprised
If I never
            Even
                Came Out!
Dramatics
Ken Pepiton Aug 2021
Trail of trials and tribulations,
woe is we
woe is we
and alla what's amattah, real or un,
who but we imagines
either one
or the other, is it real? What we think?
The meaning
centering being with science used
con-science, with knowing, so-vest, in vest
in finding the undeclared variable,
what is woke, in 2021?
Sense of some old known new named,
in a since from then to now, knowing
uses of knowing, knowing needless knowns,
- skei-sharper seps, see useless knowns,
- hard bought lessons you never lived without

"the double minded man ever falls forward,
into the forest" formed
from all the gardens
gone wild when the gardeners died,
it was sudden
nobody's fault, just - happened- as just does\

inside jobs, chrons and tension twisters,
springs of inspiration,
gears of cogitation
wheels in wheels in wheels in swirls
of fore gone conclusions,
we know
secrets, some how, now. We know
there never was a hell,
but the pearling process is valid,
the gate grows wider and the way
more twisted and iridescent than
ever, in all directions, at a turn
to bend the reflection you had
recognized as me, in your
hall of mirrors, right,
uber nur hier auf recht, re
thinking creative critical thinking,
but any re-applicant replies, pearl-wise --
lay it on me,
app-lie the essence of the
shining thing glimpsed scene,
-with wishery and fastest fasting
yet, this kind comes forth, to wink,
and lead on, a totally made up
way, a shone way where none is
as a golden street with no traveling
save messages encoded on reflections
of what the mind in peace has to say to
gloss the truth in eggwhite, wonder baked
in riddles,
as in the left brain's hall of mirrors…
the old fool stumbles in to the knots
all the thread infringed upon, and entagled
your requests to know what imitation lovers love,
sink this deep down. Imitation anointing,
have you never witnessed the super,
superior power of wind over sun,
did you never witness a wizard
with a power of presence like unto
PanaVision, to a pre-lingual toddler male.

Ritual passage,  - far subtler than any beasty
under tilled tale, telling all the trees,
keep growing, expand the life,
expand the knowing, once
known, this is it, this is where,
the forgiven sense appears a force
urging each o each little piggie, we we we
all the way home, pigs can swim, remember.

find the inner child, hall of dark glass walls…
expand to our mutual horizon,
see me see you past the stood unders,
look up,

this is joy being as beauty is,
it may not be devoid of good, nor useless
if I choose to enjoy, invest my will to happiness,
engaging joy receptors cast aside,
by the inner child, so sure the reflections
are others,
come to keep the joy I form re forming
more than one may think or ask,

a worst so good, we accept it as the best.
See.
Today is the only day you read this first.
What you imagine next, line
after line, as we,

no, me, hall of mirrors, I hear me
recall
"You are the most self-centered man
I have ever encountered."

Encounters of the pointy sort,
soul piercing insights, into who
and what
we are, if words are all I make them out to be.
Centering, hermiting, to the point of social exclusion, spinning straw to gold.
Giving any name that comes to mind to the force behind, pushing into emptiness all that wishes to exist, and making empty disappear.
Nolan Willett Jan 2021
I don’t get lonely
Or, if this is loneliness,
I much prefer it
Martin Mikelberg Feb 2020
hermit crab
spying an empty shell
moving up in the world
more thoughts on a hermit crab
Martin Mikelberg Jan 2020
hermit crab
never quite at home
not quite a crab
are you really a hermit?
developing Herman the Hermit Crab
Martin Mikelberg Jan 2020
hermit crab
never at home
for long
Isssa- Snail, always at home
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