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I am the lone wolf
crying in the night,
I fear nothing except losing my sight.

I fear not foe, nor hunger, nor cold,
I don't even fear death
or growing old.

I only fear not having you my love,
not having you in my eyes to behold.

I scramble the high rocks
trying to reach you
in vain.

Forever removed from
my touch you remain.

So I sit bathing in your light
and I cry.

Until I howl my last,
until I join you in sky.
There's something sad and romantic
about a wolf howling at the moon.
Wolves have always fascinated me.
Check out my reading of this poem on you tube

https://youtu.be/wlBOo6I7fAs?feature=shared

Thanks.
Lonely bird,
Lonely bird,
all alone
Lonely bird
Lonely bird
on its own,
no type of empathy, or
sorrow is shown,
just sad and lonesome,
no friends, all alone,
just sitting on a tree branch,
singing lullabies,
fighting back tears,
of lonely bird cries,
Lonely bird,
Lonely bird,
questions why???
why are you so lonely,
as you weep and cry,
Lonely bird,
Lonely bird,
wipe your
tears away,
You have a Friend in Jesus
He will Brighten up your day!!


B.R.
Date: 3/2/2025
I'm a somber soul,
My baby is sick at home.
I'm too far to walk,
I'm too young to drive.
Oh it's such a pity,
Lonely with the little lows of life.
My baby is sick at home,
But I've just gotta pocket,
All my strife to sickness.
It's a real shame
I planted seeds of love in your eyes,
Tended the garden, with a lover's sighs.
I nurtured every bloom, every tender shoot,
But now the garden's overgrown, and I'm lost in its fruit.

The vines of passion, once so carefully pruned,
Now choke the beauty, that our love had tuned.
The flowers of hope, that bloomed in every place,
Now wither, like my heart, in this desolate space.

I watered the soil, with tears of devotion,
But the garden's grown wild, and my love's in motion.
It's a jungle of what-ifs, a tangle of pain,
A beauty that's lost, like the love that remains.

In this garden overgrown, I'm searching for a way,
To prune the heartache, to clear the path each day.
But the more I tend, the more it seems to grow,
This garden of love, that I nurtured, and now can't let go....

27.02.2025
Pax Dec 2024
I've been tickled
By reality
Laughing at
my lonesome life
My ugly truth to some, I think.
Yet I stop caring, me forever more...
I waited for hours in an office lobby,
Just for them to tell me there was no cure for what I was suffering.
I walked a mile,
In another man’s shoes.
So I walked to  another,
To the next doctor,
Just to be told again, that there was no cure.

Wendy; My shadow is too heavy, can you fix it?
Doctor; Shadows don’t weigh anything.
Wendy; Mine does.
And it’s getting bigger.

I waited again,
Yet still the answer was the same.
That there was no cure,
For the sad music I hear in my ear,
That makes me age hundreds of years.
It makes it seem like my mind is run by rusted gears,
It must be from storing the salt for my tears.

Mother; I thought you were sleeping.
Wendy: I was being sad.
…
Wendy; I’m not always sad.

I didn’t go to another office,
I ran out of ones to walk to.
Running is a concept I never understood,
Why are you always running from, or to?
Why can’t I just run,
Away from nothing, for I have nothing to run from.
To nothing, because I have no more things to run to.

Detective; Can you fly?
Wendy; I could,
I don’t think I can anymore.
Detective; That sounds dangerous.
Wendy; It is.
Was
Detective; What can you tell me about him?

Why can’t they make a medicine,
That makes you forget?
I don’t mean alcohol,
I just asked to forget, not to destroy the place in my mind where the memory was.
Why can’t they make a syrup,
It could taste like peppermint.
That you take at night,
And wake up and forget.

Wendy; I asked you to stay.
Peter; Did you?
There's a play by Kimberly Bellflower called "Lost Girl." It follows the story of Wendy Darling as she recovers from her time spent in neverland and how she learns to cope with the loss of Peter Pan. It's a beautiful play, and I suggest going to see it if you can.
yāsha Jun 2023
i crave for loneliness to brush my hair,
mother me tenderly to sleep
as you did when i had carvings
on my left wrist at twelve years old
—a braille i fondled with every day,
                   i. don't want. to be. here.

somehow, my nightly hiccups
never drove me to my end.
i am still gentle because
you follow me wherever i go;
visiting me at the right moments
especially when i am accompanied
by my own ***** and the cold bathroom floor—
          and then you stay quiet the whole hour
          to give me some time to grieve.

i wear you like a protective charm now,
for you are the only love i've ever known.
Cherdaphne Angel Aug 2021
If I shall sit alone again,
I will not think of
the wind as my companion,
for I always feel more
than the blow and touch it gives
that still i yield from afar
a less expelling air -
a warm and sensuous breath from thee.
And so for every time
I will sit alone,
pleasing is the wind that,
although from a different byland,
gets to indulge my insides
as if near we already are.
Here again I sit alone
not feeling so alone,
for I think now until close we come
the breeze that
gusts a tingling sense
is thy breath
that catches me.
A poem written on 2018 when I could still feel you when I sit alone.
Bardo Jul 2021
The town was quiet when the Poet rode in
Not a soul was to be seen
A dog barked somewhere and a door banged noisily in the wind,
He wore a long grey coat flecked with dirt and mud
Two buttons had been left undone and there through the opening could be seen, his gun!
His eyes they had a tired look as if looking out wearily on the world
As he moved up the street, curtains parted and nervous little eyes peeped out
Suddenly a door opened and a woman rushed out across the street
Behind a barrel outside the hardware store, a small boy... hiding!
She began to scold him. "Ah Ma! he protested, I just wanted to get a good look at him, see him up close"
"Quiet!" she commanded, then turning toward the Poet while shielding the boy
She said defiantly "Their bad! Their wicked evil men!
But the Poet just kept on going, riding on as if she wasn't there
His eyes fixed straight ahead,
Finally he stopped outside the saloon, dismounted, tied his horse to the hitching Post
Went inside, the spurs of his boots clanking on the floor as he walked
"What'll it be Stranger ?" offered the Bartender
"Gimme a whiskey", said the Poet,"an Irish whiskey"
At a table playing cards, some heads turned
Then there were some excited whispers
"Look! it's the Bardo Kid, the Bardo Kid!!!"
"What has you around these parts Stranger ?" asked the Barkeep inquisitively
"I'm looking for someone", answered the Poet, "goes by the name of... Zardo!"
Another man drinking at the bar suddenly began to splutter
As if his drink had gone down the wrong way
Bardo eyed him suspiciously
"Don't look at me Bardo, I'm not Zardo, Me! I'm Vargo"
"Well Vargo", said Bardo, "you seen Zardo around ?"
"I ain't seen Zardo Bardo" said Vargo
Then he quickly drained his glass and hurriedly left
Bardo watched him go.
"Whose looking for Zardo ?" came a voice suddenly from the stairs and the shadows
It was a woman's voice. It was Miss Lilly, the Saloon Madam, a mature lady, still pretty but who'd seen better days
She came down the stairs out of the shadows
Walked right up to the Poet
But then almost losing her breath in surprise
Almost as if she'd just seen a ghost
She said with a strange note of familiarity "Bardo!!!"
The Poet too, seemed taken aback
"Lilly!" he said a bit shyly and took off his hat,
They both stood there looking at each other for a moment
"You've gotten older Bardo... more worn, I'd hardly know you"
"Been a long time... I guess" replied the Poet awkwardly,
"Where... what...whatever happened to you... Bardo ?.... I often wondered".
It was a very disarming question, for a moment the Poet seemed lost for words
"I...I've been away... far faraway"
Then gathering himself he said with a tinge of bitterness
"What happened. Life happened I guess, dealt me a bad hand, I suppose I was never gonna measure up. It was inevitable wasn't it... me and this world
I could only have turned to a Life of...a Life of Rhyme"
Bardo looked at Lilly standing there in her tawdrily ostentatious red Saloon dress
Showing a bit of cleavage
Grown slightly plump now, with some grey strands through her hair
And crowsfeet starting to appear around her eyes, he asked sadly
"What happened to you... Lilly ?
For a moment she looked like she was going to cry.
"O! I do a bit of singin' ..dancin'... deal cards, serve drinks, and do a whole lot of listenin' to lonely men and their troubles, try to cheer them up and get them to buy some more drink, keep the party going.  That's the game anyway" she admitted almost ashamedly. Then she continued. "We seen some good times though, didn't we, you and I, once when we were younger, for awhile there we ran young and wild and free, didn't we ?"
"Yea, young and wild...and... and stupid" answered Bardo with regret.
"What's this... what's this about Zardo ? asked Lilly smiling, "remember you always used to like that name".
"He's been saying things about me, running me down... damaging my reputation
Says he's faster than I am, that he could take me anytime, says I'm nothing but trouble, that I'm a no good lowdown critter, said he's gonna bring me in one day soon.
I was curious about him, thought I'd maybe like to meet this person".
"But he's only young" replied Lilly defending him, " he was just shooting off at the mouth, you know young people, their full of arrogance and foolish pride. You know how Life twists people and makes them into something their not".
Bardo looked at her closely "Do you know him ?"
Lilly hesitated a moment, then said almost tearfully " He's my son Bardo".
"I never knew you had a kid" said Bardo very surprised.
Lilly looked Bardo right in the eyes and then confided "He's our kid Bardo... you remember that time, that Summer we had together, that brief moment in time when we found each other and we thought this world was ours" .
"Why didn't you tell me, why didn't you send word, you could have reached me, I would have come", said Bardo.
"O! You'd be so proud of him Bardo, he grew up to be strong and straight and true
He has a job here as a young Deputy now".
Suddenly they heard a commotion outside and then the batwing doors of the Saloon swung open
And in strode a lean figure wearing a Tin Star
It was...it was Zardo!!!
A big crowd had formed behind him, they were egging him on
"So!" he said looking straight at Bardo,"we meet at last, if it isn't the Great, The Bardo Kid
The Fastest Pen in the West
The Fastest Rhyming Couplets this side of the Pecos
I'm taking you in...Old-timer
Heh! You don't look so tough,
I bet I could take you easy".
Lilly tried to intervene "No son, you've got it all wrong !
"Stay out of this Mom !" he warned coldly, a bit embarrassed seeing her there
Then almost as if he'd just realized something very important he said angrily to Bardo
"What are you doing talking to my Mom ?
Why you ***** rotten varmint".
Lilly screamed "Nooo!!! "
Zardo drew first but Bardo was quicker
Before Zardo had got his gun out, Bardo's had already cleared his holster
Lilly cried "Please Bardo don't hurt my boy!!"
Bardo let off a whole barrage of shots
Zardo only got off one solitary shot
But strangely... strangely it was Bardo who dropped to the floor
Zardo stood there shaken and dazed
"How can I still be alive?" he said,"he was way faster than I was. And he fired so many shots, he couldn't have missed them all'.
Suddenly the Bartender let out a shout and pointed his finger
"Look!" he said in amazement, Look!  Look at the wall behind you"
They all turned and there on the wall behind Zardo, drawn in bullets... the outline of a little heart.
A bit like Red River this without the cattle LoL. I have to own up here and say. I had the first part of this written for a long time but couldn't do anything with it. But then one day I was remembering back and remembered I read a Western story one time as a child. The hero's name was Lane I think, Life had been unkind to Lane, he got into a lot of scrapes and developed a Bad Reputation. The story ended with him meeting his old childhood sweetheart and her telling him they had a child and he was now a Deputy. They then have a showdown, the Deputy son insults the Dad not knowing who he really is, Lane is quicker on the draw and draws a heart on the wall with his bullets. -I thought I'd try and put my own spin on it. Was never able to track that book down again.- And don't worry he only winged me LoL.
daphne May 2021
bereft of emotions
a dull thud in her chest
dearly missing someone
she hasn't even met
is that what they call
loneliness now?
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