"hermits" poems
In a happy reign there should be no hermits;
The wise and able should consult together....
So you, a man of the eastern mountains,
Gave up your life of picking herbs
And came all the way to the Gate of Gold --
But you found your devotion unavailing.
...To spend the Day of No Fire on one of the southern rivers,
You have mended your spring clothes here in these northern cities.
I pour you the farewell wine as you set out from the capital --
Soon I shall be left behind here by my bosomfriend.
In your sail-boat of sweet cinnamon-wood
You will float again toward your own thatch door,
Led along by distant trees
To a sunset shining on a far-away town.
...What though your purpose happened to fail,
Doubt not that some of us can hear high music.
9.9k
Some love to watch the sea bushes appearing at dawn,
To see night fall from the goose wings, and to hear
The conversations the night sea has with the dawn.
If we can't find Heaven, there are always bluejays.
Now you know why I spent my twenties crying.
Cries are required from those who wake disturbed at dawn.
Adam was called in to name the Red-Winged
Blackbirds, the Diamond Rattlers, and the Ring-Tailed
Raccoons washing God in the streams at dawn.
Centuries later, the Mesopotamian gods,
All curls and ears, showed up; behind them the Generals
With their blue-coated sons who will die at dawn.
Those grasshopper-eating hermits were so good
To stay all day in the cave; but it is also sweet
To see the fenceposts gradually appear at dawn.
People in love with the setting stars are right
To adore the baby who smells of the stable, but we know
That even the setting stars will disappear at dawn.
9.5k
We do **** culture in uhmerica.
What is uhmerican culture anyway?
I'll explain:
it's like,
irrationalized entitlement,
moral decadence on every side
of every fence &
sick narcissistic pride
to be parasitic,
a louse *******
the life out of
the whole **** planet.
Men who have
everything
still die from depression.
Women who call
freedom co-decency
bold faced oppression.
**** first question later.
Hermits complaining
about the rain when
they know **** well
they don't even go outside.
Everyone lies to
everyone lies to
everyone lies to
everyone lies to
everyone.
See?
It's a cycle.
A spiral.
Maybe it'll go quiet
into the night, or
maybe it'll ignite
the whole **** planet.
Has anyone else noticed
the rise and fall of
Napoleon & the Romans?
How every worldwide empire dies?
In a fiery gust of embarassment
that was the special from the start.
I've grown numb
to the disgust I felt
towards everyone else &
the fact that they're all
kind of beyond helping.
Now I'm just waiting
for it all to fall apart.
May 28, 2015
May 28, 2015 at 3:58 PM UTC
Done with thinking because that's for god to do
I am just this appendage of a greater consciousness
Ahab is blameless
in his small existence
Don't quote me
quote Herman and Freddy Nietzsche
They and their hermits
coming down from the mountains
to declare they ought to have
loved their fate all along
Amor fati
Why couldn't we have been stuck in the herd all along
guys who get love and happiness effortless
no need to spend their life in anguish
searching through tomes
found in tombs for eons and eons
enhancing their social aloofness
and their unremembered trauma
'till those sad souls give those pansies confidence
to leave an exegesis of their own
Too smart kid
that decried Christ and
the shadows of a god all around
only to find the search for truth was hopeless
Find a way to dumbly enjoy life again
and you only say again cause
that's all we can control
our memories
and we too often forget
our thought habits
the pre-neolithic mind tricks
on ourselves
Too many MLMs profiting off false mindfulness
missing the point beyond exercise
and short stress relief
Change your thought patterns to love your destiny
That's the best we have
to pretend to have control in this ̶h̶e̶l̶l̶ hole
Jul 10, 2020
Jul 10, 2020 at 8:49 AM UTC
LOVE, HATE, WISDOM, FEAR, WEALTH… KEYS MANY ARE TO LIFE IT’S SAID
NONE IN BIRTH IS AFRAID,WISE,HATEFUL,GREEDY,NONE SHALL BE SO IN DEATH.
LIFE! ITS A NOW,A PRESENT CONTINUOUS,DIES HERE THE PAST,A FUTURE BORN
NOW,A SUM TOTAL OF PAST,FUTURE AN EQUATION INEXORABLE FROM HEREON.
FUTILE IS FUTURE MIRRORING PAST, AWARENESS MY PRIMER FOR A CHANGE FAST.
WHEN ALIVE ARE HEARTS PUMPING,WHY ARE MINDS AND SOULS DEAD BARREN?
ISN'T HEART THE GOOD EARTH ALWAYS AND MIND THE TREE WISE OF BANYAN?
I RID THE DISCONNECT, BY GRACE, HAVE A MINDFUL HEART, A HEARTFELT MIND!
LIVING THE STAID REALITY OF LIFE, LOVING, HATING, THINKING, BEING WISE,FOOLISH
KILLING, FORGIVING, PHILOSOPHICAL IN A CRUELLY KIND WORLD OF PARADOX.
IS THERE A REALITY DEVOID, OF LIFE AND DEATH, LOVE AND HATE, GOD AND RELIGION,
OR TRUTHS,LIES, TIME-SPACE,SOUNDS AND SILENCE,EQUANIMOUS PEACE AT WAR?
IS IT JUST A PLAY, OF THE MIND AND HEART, DESIRE AND POWER,BONDAGE UNREAL?
GOOD VERSUS EVIL?
I LIVE BY THE HEART,IT DOES STOP AND THE MIND,OH DOES IT ROT!
UNFEELING HEARTS AND UNTHINKING MINDS, THESE BARRIERS SLOWLY I CROSS,
BEYOND IS THE BEING, THE EXISTING, INCAPABLE OF THE UNREAL, DIVINELY AFAR,
A VOID SURREAL,UNFEELING YET KIND SOMEHOW, UNLOVING YET CARING SOMEHOW
UNSAD, UNJOYOUS, UNAFRAID, UNWORLDLY...ATTRIBUTES NONE AT ALL! UNBEING??
I KNOW NOT IF IT’S GOOD OR EVIL, IS JUST UNBEING,UNAFFECTED BETTER SOMEHOW?
IS THE FREE UNBEING THERE,JUST TOTALLY BEING HERE?! BACK TO A REALITY RELATIVE!
GREYS ARE MANY, IF DARK BE HATE AND BE LIGHT LOVE, MID-GREY IS THE WORLD, HOPE CAN MOVE!
FROM THE MOUNTAINS DOWN I CLIMB, JUST, WITH PRECIOUS BAGGAGE, UNPACKED TO MAKE SENSE,
OF THE REAL IN THE UNREAL,THIS ONE WORLD IN INFINITY, WITH ITS ANGELS AND DEMONS,
I CHOOSE TO LIVE WITH REALITY; AND UNRAVEL JUSTLY; ELSE IT COMES LIVES WITH ME ANYWAYS!
OR IS IT ALL JUST INEVITABLY INEXORABLE, JUST A HERMITS DESTINY?!
May 25, 2012
May 25, 2012 at 3:18 AM UTC
Never had a single
Sang to empty clubs and bars
It seemed our music came from Venus
While the crowd was all from Mars
We've been doing, well...a comeback
Though we never went away
We've been here, though no one knew it
You know this band is here to stay
No one knows our music
Now we have a different crowd
They don't care what we play them
As long as it is loud
No faces look familiar
Although the bars all look the same
I guess we should be thankful
If at the end they know our name
We knock off songs they've never heard
We play them just for us
They ask for stuff we do no know
And they rarely make a fuss
It's not the same as it once was
And neither then are we
We're doing well, a comeback tour
Though we've been here since sixty three
Some kids think we're the shadows
Hermans Hermits, or the Pips
We don't care that much though
If it gets us bigger tips
We missed out on a contract
When glam rock knocked us aside
We wouldn't wear the makeup
I would rather go and hide
We still play clubs and empty bars
Done it now for 50 years
We make a bit more money
We don't waste it all on beers
We've never gone away though
Even though folks always say
We're glad you're back together
We never ever went away
We're a band that loves it's music
Never made it big
We're out doing a comeback
Me, Ronnie, Bart and Stig
Jan 23, 2014
Jan 23, 2014 at 11:22 PM UTC
I am the spawn
Of a defective *****
And a reluctant egg
If there is a God
I'm sure he took
The utmost care
With his needle and thread
Because everyone will reap what they sow
And all I am is flaws
Stitched together
With good intentions
Because all my life
I've only ever had
Good intentions
And my heart is so full
Of love for other people
That there is none left for me
Let's talk Biology
There are over 37 trillion cells in a human body
That's ******* amazing
And every single cell is working with
A common purpose:
To keep you alive
So knowing that
Why do I so often find myself
Crying until I fall asleep
With thoughts that It would be better
If I didn't wake?
I also know the brain itself
Cannot feel pain
So maybe
My brain doesn't know
What it's doing to itself
As wicked thoughts
Dance from every synapse
Maybe it just has
Good intentions
Maybe my words could change someone
Maybe the letters I stitch so carefully
Could have some ounce of an impact on someone
And that's all I've ever wanted
But my thoughts will remain like hermits
Locked in a cage with no key
While I continue on with my good intentions
Because the road to hell
Has always been paved
By those with
Good intentions
Apr 2, 2014
Apr 2, 2014 at 8:34 AM UTC
Chords of expression fray into the misty atmosphere of a nocturnal energy field, where hermits display magical arts on the cliff-tops of allegiance.
The application of force is intensified with heightened awareness, as it will produce the desired effect.
Are you willing or able to acknowledge that there is a resonating vibration which surpasses timeless universal parameters?
My cat is watching me.
Therefore, the question arises around whether the concept of perception is defined by conservative projections or unbridled liberty?
So, if we meander down those narrow and solitary roads of Andalucia to the small village of Pastelero, where snakes discreetly writhe into the fields of golden grain, we will find that an exploding teardrop is more powerful than a sonic boom.
The sickle is an astrological formation which compels me to ask: Where have all the flowers gone?
Nov 6, 2014
Nov 6, 2014 at 12:09 AM UTC
Once I knew a place, a place I never truly found significant.
A vast stretch of abandonment and history - long forgotten and left to be consumed by Time himself.
Once I knew a place, a place I never truly understood.
Decorated by Mother Nature with an asortment of trees and shrubs and an abundance of flowers it's only scar which betrayed it to the present was a solitary man-made structure, tattoed with the bold letters of "FALCON SECURITY" - surely an untold testimony to this place's past life.
Once I knew a place, a place I never truly acknowledged.
Ocassionally it would become the temporary haven of hobbos and hermits alike. Living in mutual homelessness they sort comfort under the trees, in the confines of the hideous building or simply amongst the long, billowing grass of the place. They would build thingie-ma-jigs, what-ja-ma-call-its and thing-a-ma-bobs and sell them to the curt passerbys of their place.
Once I knew a place, a place I never truly appreciated.
Surrounded by infastructure, and industry it stood out like a rose amongst the thorns and brought beauty and clarity back into the otherwise monotonous, morbid environment. It stood defiant and strong against the hungry, salivating greed of humanity - yet someday it was bound to succumb to our over-powering ambition for development.
Once I knew a place, a place that no longer exists.
In the blink of an eye that place was destroyed - uprooted and upheaveled.
Every tree, every shrub, every flower ripped out and now gone. No longer a haven but a grave yard where the dead lay scattered like fallen soldiers across the battlefield. Victims against the War of Industrialisation they fell prey to mans' heinous desires.
"Collateral damage" for a "brighter" future they say.
I say, who needs another vehicle retail outlet.
Once I knew a place, and I will never know that place again.
Dec 7, 2013
Dec 7, 2013 at 4:14 PM UTC
Nuns fret not at their convent’s narrow room,
And hermits are contented with their cells,
And students with their pensive citadels;
Maids at the wheel, the weaver at his loom,
Sit blithe and happy; bees that soar for bloom,
High as the highest peak of Furness fells,
Will murmur by the hour in foxglove bells:
In truth the prison unto which we doom
Ourselves no prison is: and hence for me,
In sundry moods, ’twas pastime to be bound
Within the Sonnet’s scanty plot of ground;
Pleased if some souls (for such there needs must be)
Who have felt the weight of too much liberty,
Should find brief solace there, as I have found.
2.3k
THREE old hermits took the air
By a cold and desolate sea,
First was muttering a prayer,
Second rummaged for a flea;
On a windy stone, the third,
Giddy with his hundredth year,
Sang unnoticed like a bird:
"Though the Door of Death is near
And what waits behind the door,
Three times in a single day
I, though upright on the shore,
Fall asleep when I should pray.'
So the first, but now the second:
"We're but given what we have eamed
When all thoughts and deeds are reckoned,
So it's plain to be discerned
That the shades of holy men
Who have failed, being weak of will,
Pass the Door of Birth again,
And are plagued by crowds, until
They've the passion to escape."
Moaned the other, "They are thrown
Into some most fearful shape.'
But the second mocked his moan:
"They are not changed to anything,
Having loved God once, but maybe
To a poet or a king
Or a witty lovely lady."
While he'd rummaged rags and hair,
Caught and cracked his flea, the third,
Giddy with his hundredth year,
Sang unnoticed like a bird.
2.1k
there are holes in the sand because of the hermit *****
but the hermits aren’t nearly as beautiful as these
my very solitude is a beauty
but i’m the beast
i will lay upon this rock at the end of the beach
until the shore ***** up and touches me
even if the gods above want to scare me with a little water
even if the claws pinch me
even if the sol water stings me
wash my footsteps away
evidence of my existance is obsolete
i’m but a ghost
spiriting amidst the contemporaneity of it all
shred my skin away
leave them like bones
bones after an apocalypse
i’m their epilogue
the sea is a dog
it barks upon the shore
it pulls you into a tide of glee
it slobbers love in the contours of your face
it invites you in, and doesn’t let go.
Sep 14, 2013
Sep 14, 2013 at 3:41 PM UTC
High as the birds
As I fly down the straat
Breaking between winds
Biking becomes my art
I'm a sunchaser with not so much time
Clouds coming daylight dimming
Ending play and dance in sunshine
Autumn is here as the fire glows hot
All gentle cosy and soft
Snuggled up closely in
Cinnamon spice clove
Soup and broth
With layers upon layers of clothes
We enter the winters sway
Retreating begins as we become
Hermits in our own way
During the dark endless winters night
The campfire will call us to its divine light
Here we sing songs of our old souls treasure
Rituals dating back to where there still remains a tether
Healing in community
Through art and play
We gather around the fire
To Dance the winters chill away.
Oct 1, 2018
Oct 1, 2018 at 11:53 AM UTC
just living
is a rebellion
the singing and the screaming
collide into one
each day
I work for someone
who I do not know
I give them money every day
because we all have to pay
just for living
the composer turns his hand
he asks for us to stand
and we do
as the sitter is exiled
and the new rules are filed
we look to the stars
a world in denial
to freedom
who’s your father
beg for martyrs
because we all
do nothing
at all
like hermits in a shell
inside the cage
we walk the streets
and work the wage
circles of beings
and tireless days of occurrences
with brand new acquaintances
living just the way
they were yesterday
giving everything
to someone above us
equality irrelevant
I don’t like the smell of it
something’s gone cold
we all grow old
let us all blossom the way we desire
be the pet’s owner
that sets the pet free
look in the eyes
of a soul
and let it be
we will surely be thankful
for all the degrees
a smile and laughter
will come from beneath
take off your role
throw in your sheets
uncover your lost soul
find what you need
powerless fusion of hope
grind your teeth down
do what you please
no stress over spilt milk
we are the meek
don’t open your mouth
simply to speak
say something worthwhile
or silence indeed
waking on pillows
justice to sleep
with a head so heavy
that it is light
and a dance so quick
that it goes something like
rapid melodies drifting
into a time
a time that is new
something that’s right
with wishful thinking
you gain delight
but think or think not
I know what I don’t want to know
it fairs me well
while you fancy the rest
the drill is in the ground
just close your eyes
don’t make a sound
give out a smile
come hang around
because just living
is a rebellion
each day
I work for someone
I don’t even know
I still walk with my feet
for now
even though
May 15, 2013
May 15, 2013 at 3:31 PM UTC
Encounters with Chinese Hermits
The silence of the Tao
Red Pine's Road to Heaven
The Eternal Now
The mystery of the moon
The beauty of her face
Exoplanets spin
Aliens in space?
Chase.
Sep 15, 2025
Sep 15, 2025 at 5:28 PM UTC
The book isn’t quiet at night.
My mind tosses to turn the pages quicker,
so I might fall asleep faster.
The book doesn’t quiet.
The pages turning sound—
the slow waves of an ocean,
causing the hermit crabto long for the sea.
Ticking against the plastic hermit crab aquarium,
hermits make up their own laws of time. Longing
just to reach the sliced trees that lay as the floor beneath me.
Knots come out on the floor under my bed
begging to tell the stories of their wood rings.
Hundreds of years of uncut life—until suddenly,
streaming out on branches from every tree—is compacted
into the paper on this page
and into the hardwood underneath
that begins shifting slowly to driftwood.
Standing still with the grains of time resting at my feet.
Hearing the sea crying out too for some sleep,
the sea crying out to be a pond,always resting.
With every turned page,
the sand brushes, wanting the hermit ***** to come back
from their hand painted, tattooed shells.
To dance once more on the sand beneath the sea foam,
under delicately night speckled atmosphere
beneath a far off silent observer
we humans call the man in the moon.
Turning pages are slowly closed,
placed aside once more,
left alone to stare at hermit *****
Hiding in their hermit crab aquariums, they
await the 6am alarm clock’s tick.
Mar 1, 2010
Mar 1, 2010 at 1:39 PM UTC
The sad and solemn night
Hath yet her multitude of cheerful fires;
The glorious host of light
Walk the dark hemisphere till she retires;
All through her silent watches, gliding slow,
Her constellations come, and climb the heavens, and go.
Day, too, hath many a star
To grace his gorgeous reign, as bright as they:
Through the blue fields afar,
Unseen, they follow in his flaming way:
Many a bright lingerer, as the eve grows dim,
Tells what a radiant troop arose and set with him.
And thou dost see them rise,
Star of the Pole! and thou dost see them set.
Alone, in thy cold skies,
Thou keep'st thy old unmoving station yet,
Nor join'st the dances of that glittering train,
Nor dipp'st thy ****** orb in the blue western main.
There, at morn's rosy birth,
Thou lookest meekly through the kindling air,
And eve, that round the earth
Chases the day, beholds thee watching there;
There noontide finds thee, and the hour that calls
The shapes of polar flame to scale heaven's azure walls.
Alike, beneath thine eye,
The deeds of darkness and of light are done;
High towards the star-lit sky
Towns blaze--the smoke of battle blots the sun--
The night-storm on a thousand hills is loud--
And the strong wind of day doth mingle sea and cloud.
On thy unaltering blaze
The half-wrecked mariner, his compass lost,
Fixes his steady gaze,
And steers, undoubting, to the friendly coast;
And they who stray in perilous wastes, by night,
Are glad when thou dost shine to guide their footsteps right.
And, therefore, bards of old,
Sages, and hermits of the solemn wood,
Did in thy beams behold
A beauteous type of that unchanging good,
That bright eternal beacon, by whose ray
The voyager of time should shape his heedful way.
1.5k
Could have taken the path to compassion in a family life
- where love and hostility teaches you enlightenment
But I gambled on the Camel ride to the oasis
-surrounded by a hostile environment
Where hermit poets work out their salvation in the weaving of poetry
- and in the silence of solitude and the inward journey.
Aug 24, 2016
Aug 24, 2016 at 1:50 PM UTC
2020 Vision.
There’s no flying cars
We’re not living under the sea
Mars is still unsettled
Mail is not sent by rockets
But in 2020 all apples have faces now.
Apes have not evolved to work for us
Aliens have not made contact
We still have ten toes
We can not yet breathe under water
But in 2020 we sing songs instead of talking
There is still hunger
There is still war
We can’t yet teleport to a holiday destination
Or read each other’s minds
But in 2020 dorkiness got into the water supply.
Hibernation became an art form
Hermits live in communes
Elle Kay and Veda were never strangers again.
Jan 1, 2020
Jan 1, 2020 at 12:22 PM UTC
In my travels, I happened to find this little box. It has no key, and has no locks. So, sit back, sip a cup of coffee, or favorite drink, relax for a little while, and hopefully, enjoy the ride:
On the table, the box it sits-
All six sides of equal fit-
What is the mystery inside-?
What are the secrets that it hides?
This little box--
That has no key--and has no locks.
The Oracles of Delphi-the hermits on the peak-
Claimed to see the future-but in truth they did not seek-
The power of this little box-
That has no key ----- and has no locks.
It doesn't eat! It doesn't breath!!
But oft it can, and will, relieve
Your fears of the fiercest days ahead--
All within this little box-
That has no key---------and has no locks.
When clouds gather, dark and drea'r--
Eyes swell, and start to tear--
It's not a curse! nor a pox!
Just pick up the little box--
That has no key---------------and has no locks.
So, with great ferocity--
Quench your thirst of curiosity!
Discover the secrets held within!!
Feel the power again, and again!!!
Learn the mystery of the box--
That has no key--------------------and has no locks
(YOU MAY NOW OPEN THE BOX)
Put together with guise and guile--
With hopes that it will make you smile-
So, now you know the mystery--
And the secret of the box-
There never was a need -- for keys and locks!!!
Copyright r.riddle-August 17, 2010
Aug 29, 2013
Aug 29, 2013 at 11:56 AM UTC
Atop the hills,in buzzing markets
In rains lashing, hot suns blazing
frozen in snow,in the crowds lonely
stoic in revelries great and griefs deep
amidst loves transient,bondage flimsy
moving on impervious, unattached,
shedding skins acquired,a meditating
spirit benevolent to all, even to evil but
scorning,fighting,rejecting for lights newer,
seeking an unknown,never knowing true,
of its being,but for a sliver burning,blazing
in a nook soulful,engulfing slowly of me all
driving,undying, propelling me ever on,
to that unknown,that's seeking me too!
Oct 20, 2013
Oct 20, 2013 at 8:01 AM UTC
The world can be a painful place
when its all so far away
perhaps a hermits life is better
as close to home you always stay
If you do not gaze on foreign shores
will you still desire to roam?
Is it possible that happiness
can be found so close to home
If you do not see the beauty
that lives in foreign lands
Will your spirit find its soul mate
amongst those closer to hand
Ignorance is bliss they say
and while that may not be true
Disappointment comes with pain
that is harder to undo
Nov 13, 2010
Nov 13, 2010 at 5:27 PM UTC
So, I flipped curiously through every page
Of the infamous grimoire by the golden mage
Once I had finished I knew the lonely road;
The dance of the bones and the hermits code!
The depths of the wood were surrounded by light
Not from a star but from a moon so bright
It was the day of the harvest and it was mine
Searching for my tool to reach the divine
Where was the beast of grit and slime?
Down by the stream where he spent all his time
So, I marched to the creek with a hasteful stride
To locate the toad to make my sorrows subside
The reflection of my spherical guide
Gleamed brightly off the waters own hide
A night so fine that it would surely evoke
The call of the creature; it's cowardly croak
A sound rang out from the side of the creek
there lay a frog hopping through the leeks
Aha! I said. I have found you at last!
I can finally devour the evils from my past
I took him in hand to find the perfect tree
One with deadly thorns to set his soul free
I found the faultless plant with spikes so great
The night was high and it was time to penetrate
As I skewered the beast i felt no remorse
Such is the way to make a toad-corpse
His movement now faded he was no longer beast
I knelt to an anthill to give them a feast
After the insect army had consumed all his flesh
I placed his bones in my pack made of mesh
Turned to the north to head back to the river
To the shallow depths the bones I must deliver
Dropped them in the current to see which remain
If none of which stayed my attempt would be vain
I stood there and stared to see how i'd fair
and to my approval only one lay there!
Reached through the liquid to grasp my magic tool
Raised my hand of power to summon the ghoul
Oh, Sacred waters of the moon!
Bring me Sabatraxas to whom I might swoon!
The wind began to howl its childish laughter
The spirit I had summoned would come soon after
To grant me with a blessing or so the lore said
or Was I just a fool evoking my death bed?
Surely enough he ascended from below
I will teach you everything you need to know;
and destroy the ailments that butcher as you sleep
For only in rest shall you find the need to reap!
May 27, 2013
May 27, 2013 at 10:10 PM UTC