"lonelier" poems
In the night, those shadows come alive. So little do i know about this heavy doubt.
Cold wind biting the heart. Trying to figure out where I've been.
Dark winter pulls me closer, now theres a place i'm thinking into the air.
A voice calling, "Who knows but that which seems omitted today, waits for tomorrow?"
Nothing is as it seams, just as beauty leans from the earth in a sunset--a harp for the soul to sing.
But You are life and you are the veil.
Beauty is eternity gazing at her self
But you are eternity and you are the mirror.
And if you want to know truth retire of solving riddles.
We wanderers, ever seeking the lonelier way,
begin no day where we have ended another day;
and no sunrise finds us where sunset left us.
Even while the earth sleeps we travel,
back into dreams.
Ay, my bow rests on my chest.
There is the flame spirit among a starry mountainside.
Oh it was but yesterday we met in a dream. You watched as I built a ship towards your shore.
My spirit goes wandering upon the wind, off to the desert sands, deep beneath the ocean's sound.
I am the gypsey and the fortuneteller, liken an honest thief. No I'm the myth builder and dream master.
who laughs with me when I destroy,
the sand castles of my innocence. The
sun warming my back just as the wicked, and drawing my image locked in a shadow.
Here the soul a battlefield, where
reason and passion become one.
they are the sails of my seafaring soul.
There I found the naked body of my dreams, in silent sleep my spriit walked the path.
I am the star-gazer who feels the power of endlessness, Aware of timelessness and
neverending space. The love in me still
present amidst the scattered fires that
burn in black ink.
Just as the caveman draws his fears on lost walls, speaking of misfortune and
treasures gallore. A fantom ghost in Hade's Fate.
Now my ship wanders forever on a pearlous course but never sinking.
Oct 29, 2012
Oct 29, 2012 at 12:47 AM UTC
It's been months since I played it,
The guitars have my exams in their way,
They miss me at Karnal just as I miss them here at Rohtak.
The strings crave to be played - to be touched by me,
It's high time that I played it so the tuning must be long lost,
The hollow & the pickups feel lonelier in my memory without me & strings missing my touch.
I must hold them in my hands and write musical notes with them,
I will make the strings my pallet & strum them in rhythm while I sing,
I will apologize to my guitars for having ignored them knowingly.
Dec 17, 2013
Dec 17, 2013 at 7:31 AM UTC
Picture yourself:
confident threads,
in a mix fabric shirt.
You're in a relationship,
and it's full of love.
Till one day,
it's skewed.
The love is there by title,
but the actions have fled.
Hands cupping a Samsung,
rather than your hand.
Their mind fixed to any and everything,
but a conversation with you.
Spend the whole day together,
with but a few, short replies.
Keep telling yourself,
it will improve.
In the blue light haze,
sitting right next to the love of your life,
feeling lonelier than ever.
Unable to express it,
for fear of retaliation.
So you sit there,
noting the confidence count
on the clothes you're wearing
isn't high enough for this.
So you stay silent,
wondering what's so captivating,
in the blue light.
Jun 22, 2018
Jun 22, 2018 at 2:07 PM UTC
Forlorn as a destitute child,
I wandered to the distant wild;
Through a peculiar lonelier wood,
Like a wave, roving as fast as I could.
Not long, I came by a myrtle river bank
Where early boughs grow wild and rank.
There my eyes kissed upon wild flowers,
All grandly dressed in neon colours,
Rhythmically whispering lullabies,
Ineffably upon velvety indigo skies,
Whilst swaying in a friskier dance,
That could render naked eyes in a trance.
At such a mesmerizing sight,
I drowned in a pool of sweet delight
Hence in wonderment shook my head,
And in a velvety voice whispered:
"Flowers, flowers, flowers, flowers
What brings about thy Ineffable colors?"
**And all flowers smiled and smiled,
And exuberantly all thus replied:**
"At dusk, when fair maidens of the night
Grandly dress in flocks, of burning bright;
And madly smiles about skies above,
Oh! Their opalscent eyes we flowers love:
So, from their pulchritudenous color;
So lies the mysteries of our allure."
At such a mesmerizing reply,
Sweet delight oozed from mine eye
Hence in wonderment shook my head,
And in a velvety voice whispered:
"Flowers, flowers, flowers, flowers
What brings about thy ineffable colors?"
**And all flowers smiled and smiled,
And exuberantly all thus replied:**
"At dawn, when the day's watchman
Doth weareth his novelty crown,
And treads upon yonder skies above,
Oh! His golden crown we flowers love:
So, from his pulchritudenous color;
So lies the mysteries of our allure."
At such a mesmerizing reply,
Sweet delight oozed from mine eye
Hence in wonderment shook my head,
And in a velvety voice whispered:
"Flowers, flowers, flowers, flowers
What brings about thy ineffable colors?"
**And all flowers smiled and smiled,
And exuberantly all thus replied:**
"When envious veils of dusk engulfs day,
Paving the fairest Empress way;
To grandly grace on yonder skies above,
Oh! Her rainbow robes we flowers love:
So, from her pulchritudenous colour;
So lies the mysteries of our allure."
At such a mesmerizing reply,
Sweet delight oozed from mine eye
Hence in wonderment shook my head,
And in a velvety voice whispered:
"Flowers, flowers, flowers, flowers
What brings about thy ineffable colors?"
**'And all,' all flowers smiled and smiled;
I mean, smiled, smiled and smiled,
I say, smiled, smiled and smiled,
And happiness bloomed in the wild.**
#bliss of solitude
©Kikodinho Edward Alexandros
Jumeira, Dubai
6th August 2017
Aug 6, 2017
Aug 6, 2017 at 10:09 AM UTC
When humanity loses their beacon
Future plummets to deepest chasms
No light to welcome the future
No hands to hold, in our weaknesses
Only shenanigans
Will finally obliterate us
Leaving this celestial space lonelier
Dec 17, 2014
Dec 17, 2014 at 12:35 AM UTC
Clearer the thought,
deeper the soul,
more original I am,
the lonelier I become.
Mar 11, 2021
Mar 11, 2021 at 12:34 AM UTC
I always thought it was lovely,
the way you climb out of sleep
You unfold your back up out of the
sheets before you blink your eyes
I always thought it was lovely,
the way you unbutton my flannel
You start at the bottom
& save the best for last
Well, I guess I'm driving home tonight
You have cider leaking from your pores
but still I'm melting into every
half-hearted word
You came here with me on a limb
You said I didn't have to travel alone
But now I feel lonelier than I've ever been,
looking at your lazy eyelashes falling up
and down from the passanger's side
Knowing that you're not looking at mine
I drag you to shore
everytime you start to drown
I love you
even when you're hard to like
I have pain drenched pillow cases
from every night you said
"hey I'm stayin in tonight"
& I have half-empty pill bottles
from every month you spent
falling away from me
This is not as lovely,
as it looks to us
This is agony,
all dressed up
May 17, 2013
May 17, 2013 at 12:06 AM UTC
my polygamous relationship with you distances me from the monotony of monogamy and makes me feel lonelier than the loneliest mundane monogamist. my mere apologies for my misendeavors, the malnutritious morals of my miseducation propose metal mirrors and castaways controlled by cutting carvers, craving crazy letters and loyalty from lengthy lies and lonely lives. lethargy overtakes and vowels reign, raining drops like rainbows and rocks in rivers, rusting relationships, rusty railroads at intense intersections entwined in everything inside and nothing on the outside anymore except these
muscles. we are back at the beginning.
my mind marvels in the magic of the memories, the madness of the morbidity and the hesitations of your reaction. his, I take, is misunderstood as my misfortune, but it is not a miss, my fortune: it is a fox in feathers colorful like friendships 'fore their forfeited and feigned approval, forced for fear of polygamy tho' it promises the purest pleasure, the most personal independence and precious pearls of princes, princesses, powerful, plight-less
poetry. peace surrenders,
souls surprise themselves, surprise their cells, call for curious catastrophes to take place. colorful and calm they coincide with cooperation that can not contain the context of truth, of teases, of teasers and targets and tonal dualities and we endeavor, we endear you, we dare destroy the darkness of the devil in its disguised diamonds.
words lie at my feet like pebbles of poetry and I promise personal demise, deterioration and ridiculous obsessions- there's madness to be had and fragments to be written and I play with silly alliteration instead!
serious and serene you stare as if my sanity has slowly faded and I sternly helplessly smile shyly. I suppose you are sincerely offering me your blessing before parting, so stumbling slightly I surrender…
if this is the prevailing promise of mere mortality, I'm graciously aware I was worthy of words.
Jan 11, 2014
Jan 11, 2014 at 2:01 PM UTC
I'm such a fool;
I fall too easily
with anyone
willing to love
me in the moment.
I get attached,
and they go home.
I end up the way
I started, only
feeling lonelier
than before 'hello'.
-JRM
Jan 9, 2015
Jan 9, 2015 at 1:02 AM UTC
Scribbled in a pre-sex haste
of hormones and awful
music taste,
your name on the back of a receipt
is no way to treat
a one night stand
that you met at the bar;
held hands with in the street;
and subsequently left when
the night became light and neat,
tidied up in a 10am alarm clock
call.
Could’ve waited until
we were both awake,
that way the alcohol would’ve warn off
and we could take this major issue
for what it was-
excitement;
and much anticipation; and placing into
action every lesson learnt from Nick Hornby books,
or pieces of information tucked
deep within our internet bookmark lists.
At least stay until after
Desert Island Discs
next time,
because then buses shall be running
on time, and you won’t have to risk
the public transport roulette table
that spins around this town,
this great noun in the Anglia east.
Now it's the news, and the news
is you've gone. For a moment
I slipped back into a sleepy cement,
making for rough fingers-
that last night made the ascent
up to warmer climates.
And now back to lonelier nights
and Nick Hornby books,
afternoon wake-up calls
from Mum, back home,
asking how to download
the latest Google Chrome.
Feb 14, 2013
Feb 14, 2013 at 6:00 AM UTC
405
It might be lonelier
Without the Loneliness—
I’m so accustomed to my Fate—
Perhaps the Other—Peace—
Would interrupt the Dark—
And crowd the little Room—
Too scant—by Cubits—to contain
The Sacrament—of Him—
I am not used to Hope—
It might intrude upon—
Its sweet parade—blaspheme the place—
Ordained to Suffering—
It might be easier
To fail—with Land in Sight—
Than gain—My Blue Peninsula—
To perish—of Delight—
2.7k
If love fails you, don’t hate it. Instead, thank it for giving you laughs, tears, goodnight texts, and dates on Saturdays
- when you were supposed to be alone in your kitchen, chopping an ugly potato that looks lonelier than you could have been
Oct 9, 2015
Oct 9, 2015 at 10:29 PM UTC
Overlooked as if too good
Too sweet causing cavities
Borrowing glances never getting them back
holding hands, loose, and even lonelier
All you wanted to do was be happy
Chances don't exist for opportunity is everything
Oct 12, 2014
Oct 12, 2014 at 5:18 AM UTC
depression
is not crippling sadness
as most think it is.
well, sometimes.
it is
apathy
most of the time
who cares?
no point.
everything *****
I lost my job today
cried, a little
but I cry about everything.
mainly
apathetic
now I truly have no reason
to ever get out of bed
sure,
I'll look for another
way
to live
but this *****
leaves me with no motivation
no motivation
to apply to colleges,
even though I have
a 3.9 GPA
no motivation
to hang out with friends
even though I am
lonelier than ever
no motivation
to eat food
even though I am
starving
after
I left my now "old work"
I had the impulsive decision
to rescue a dog.
maybe
if I have another creature
to look after
love
feed
I will start
to care for myself, too.
the shelter
made my heart hurt
the kittens
weren't crying
just
sleeping
in their jail cells
uninterested
in life
or their possible new
friend
looking at their possible
rescuer
with disinterest
looking
through their cage
like me.
finnegan
was a terrier mix
a stray
he was whining
licked
my hand
when I reached to him
eight years old
missing
his right eye
life has trampled him
yet he is not hardened
I cried
with him
as I walked him
around the play area
he sniffed everything he could.
curious
investigating
not crying anymore
just happy to be free
from the hell in his cage
he
treated the workers
with affection
like he treated me
with affection
it took awhile
until he came close
and cried while I pat him
climbed in my lap
and cried
I know
buddy
walked him inside.
the woman,
at the counter
looked at me eagerly,
"so?!"
I looked away.
can't
do it
not
today
I'm sorry
him and I
are both looking
for affection
love
a way out of this mess.
but
I can't help him.
no job,
no sure way I can buy him food
buy me food.
I can't
buy a living creature
out of impulse.
he needed security
I cannot provide that
only warmth.
I need to be happy
he cannot provide that
only warmth.
goodbye,
cutie
puller of heartstrings
I promise
someone better than me
will take you away.
not today
lost myself
lost my passion
lost my lust
lost my job
lost
my
soul.
Feb 19, 2016
Feb 19, 2016 at 5:45 PM UTC
Some are for a lifetime
Some last but a day
Some will leave for anger
Some will move away
And some will die and
Leave you only lonelier next day
Some are kind and gentle
While some are brash and bold
Each one irreplaceable:
A candle you may hold
Until it burns out
And leaves you cold
A rare few burn eternal,
And they’re magical as such,
But the search to try to find them
I have found hurts far too much.
So we live life lit by candles
That our frozen hands must clutch
Until they burn out
In a rush
Aug 10, 2018
Aug 10, 2018 at 2:01 PM UTC
The closest I can
get to you is
the farthest I can
get from here -
the farthest I can get from
these dreadful Columbus clouds
that protect me from
the unknown,
the lonely cornfields that grow
and grow, but
only grow lonelier.
But I like the clouds that
blanket me at night, keeping me
warmer than you ever could.
And I love the way the sun
rains orange and pink on the lonely
cornfield, and the way the cornfield
soaks it up and saves it
for another day.
I could love you if
you could love Ohio's cornfields
and cloudy days.
Jan 30, 2011
Jan 30, 2011 at 4:00 AM UTC
Copenhagen is a movie that greatly parallels my relationship
Yet the more I saw them thrive the lonelier I felt
The lonelier I felt the more space I seemed to occupy in my bed
Near the last quarter of the movie there was a scene
That made me think to myself
"Effy is the only woman that can slap a man then make him dance"
And I took up more of my bed
Jan 26, 2015
Jan 26, 2015 at 8:48 AM UTC
Jasmine smells of Lavender to me,
except the plant of color reminds me of a time that was lonelier.
I've held a bit of the scent,
but was compelled to be rid of the dried herb that lingers,
and tickles my legs in my own bed as a reminder
to dust myself off and try again.
I sniff the freshly fallen blossoms I've laid atop
my comforters, fondly.
I try to erase the fear of the spirals,
smelling flowers and escaping sleep
and remember that I've become the company I keep.
So that when I anoint my temples with white petals
I forget the loneliness lavender reminds me of.
Aug 9, 2018
Aug 9, 2018 at 7:33 AM UTC
Little black bird,
I was once you
I died inside myself and hung in the shadows
There was nothing on this earth lonelier than I was
Just as you write
I was once you
I saw a slight glimmer on earth and that was only a puddle beneath my feet from my tears falling off my face
I saw humanity but nothing worth saving
I felt nothing and screamed inside all day long until it was time to finally rest for a few hours
I answered questions doubtfully and walked alone
I was once you
Silence understood me better than anyone could ever begin to
Darkness was my best friend
Love was my enemy
Family was a foreign concept
The sidewalk knew me better than I wanted to admit
My diary stared me back in the face and mocked me
The mirror couldn't stand me
My eyes were always hazy
And music was my savior
The realm in which I lived was heavy
Every day was an ongoing battle of depression and it was never ending
Life was a sick joke and happiness did not exist. Ever.
Because I was once you,
I know that you are great.
I know how beautiful you really are inside
Beneath the destruction,
In the place where nobody else knows where to find
Someplace you have not yet discovered
Trust me little black bird,
You may be small but you are not overlooked.
You may feel weak
But you are stronger than you realize.
Jan 18, 2016
Jan 18, 2016 at 7:16 PM UTC
Few dared to date Medusa,
For they feared being covered with contusions.
Those who did wore a blindfold to hide their eyes,
A blind date with fate and a disguise.
One of the braver men,
Who thought he could apprehend,
Medusa, his name was Trent.
He didn’t last long,
He took his blindfold off,
And like many before him,
He turned to stone and wasn’t heard from again.
Another challenger’s name was Wren,
Like the bird,
Medusa thought that was the strangest name she’d heard.
So, out of spite,
She reached across the table and exposed Wren’s eyes.
He gasped as his skin turned coarse,
Mouth open wider than a horse.
Medusa pushed him over,
Watched as he shattered,
And smiled to herself,
Even though she was lonelier than anyone else.
Medusa didn’t mean to be so cruel,
It was the consequences of her being used.
By a man to do things she didn’t want to do,
Unspeakable and terrible abuse,
She was the only one to lose.
So, she became a viper,
Her gaze became a noose.
Asphyxiation,
Righteous indignation.
She wouldn’t let herself be used again.
Finally, a man named Hunter arrived,
He tightened the blindfold around his eyes.
He sat across from Medusa, the table lit by candlelight,
She blushed, for he was quite a sight.
He reached across the table and shook her hand,
And he asked her if she had any plans.
She was taken aback, her mind rolling off the tracks,
Lost in a flashback, she babbled about tasks she had to do,
None of which was true.
Hunter laughed, a sound so sweet,
It made Medusa nearly fall out of her seat.
Was this the one she had been searching for?
Or was he just another liar?
Authenticity tends to hide,
Just like the scars Medusa had on her thighs.
One of her snakes whispered in her ear,
Advising her to ignore what she wanted to hear.
The snakes only wanted what was best,
But for whom? What was the purpose of their quest?
Hours passed by like comets,
First date turned into many happy moments.
Before Medusa could catch her breath,
Half a year had passed,
And Hunter had asked,
To see Medusa’s face.
She insisted that he didn’t,
But she knew he wouldn’t listen.
He lowered the blindfold,
As teardrops glistened,
Medusa thought she had just lost,
Her heart…
Hunter had heterochromia,
Left eye green, right eye a shimmering blue.
Medusa’s eyes were both red,
That pulsated in blossoming hues.
To both of their surprise,
Hunter didn’t turn to stone.
He captured her lips in a kiss,
Both of them were alone.
Medusa found the one who could see her,
She no longer had to hide.
Hunter loved Medusa,
It made her cry.
The world is filled with hurt people, like Medusa,
Who may push you away and leave you in contusions.
But underneath that deadly gaze,
Is a mountain of pain…
Sep 17, 2025
Sep 17, 2025 at 10:14 PM UTC
It comes naturally
to write down my thoughts
Even in the worst situations,
When my mind is in knots
No one to share with
Except the pencil and paper
My notebooks and notepads
Stacked as high as a skyscraper
Writers are the loneliest of people
Or so, I’ve been told
I believe the lonelier one is,
the more pens one holds
Jan 28, 2016
Jan 28, 2016 at 12:00 PM UTC
It's much quieter around here
in these once conversational rooms
and in the crackling fireplace
that was lit
to keep our shivering bones warm
It's much colder around here
without the sparks flying between us
and no wandering wondering hands
to keep us smiling
It's much lonelier around here
where the only other hands here
are the ones reflected in the mirror
made up in its shattered pieces
that scatter the floor boards
Shattered and Scattered
Sounds sadly familiar
With red lip stick,
the mirror's edge kisses my hand
then my chest
my stomach
and thighs
and bites playfully at my neck
You loved this colour on me,
you'd once said
But maybe it was the wrong dress?
This one fits me much tighter
almost suffocatingly
to my skin
it flows nicely
Maybe now you'll take me back
into your cold, stiff arms
I'll join you for dinner tonight
in my flowing red dress.
Sep 21, 2011
Sep 21, 2011 at 9:55 AM UTC
she comes home in the middle of the night
and i help her take her shoes off.
she can't walk in heels,
but in the glow of the night life,
she becomes someone else.
for once
in her life
she is
no one
but herself.
and a boy will buy her a drink,
take her home.
but she is so gone,
because even when she is with him,
she is thinking of a lost boy.
she is thinking of a boy in a coffee shop, smoking all his problems away.
a boy with dreams when they met,
that slowly faded into ash and dust,
nothing now but hazy memories.
she can still remember his eyes,
blue and bright.
now,
they are so dark
she can't even tell their color.
they could be black
and she wouldn't
even
know.
every day, they said "get over him"
every day, they said "he is nothing but trouble"
every day, they said "he will only break your heart"
every day, she said "you don't know him like i do"
and then, after, they said "i told you so"
and she said "you don't know him like i did"
so even when he is kissing her shoulder and i am in the other room,
counting the creaks of the bed
she is thinking of the summer they fell in love.
maybe it was his i-don't-give-a-shit attitude,
maybe it was the attraction of rebellion,
but he changed everything
and she swore she'd never been so in love.
and then, when it was over,
when all the caps that they'd thrown into the air were all cleaned up by the janitor,
we went to new york city
and she reinvented herself.
she packed up one box,
and got the hell out of that town.
she hasn't missed one thing that she left behind,
didn't regret one moment,
except for him.
and so, when they were done,
he put his clothes back on
and left her there in her own bed, lonelier than before.
i had to go in and place the advil on the table,
for the hangover the next morning,
that would be there just like the sureness of the sun rising.
and i was the one
who tucked her in at night
while she was passed out,
and mumbling his name.
Sep 29, 2013
Sep 29, 2013 at 7:31 PM UTC
Chatter, as I watch the snowdrops falling
It blends in from the street, the pavement, the everything but me
and the lonelier soles who walk their own ways in the path
Taking their own hands against the cold.
Distances there into and always with the twilight
Strings and biscuits in the dawn of the twice
Winds pass and monsoons sweep through
Often I watch them in the memories of you.
Cross the sidewalks, mirrors, delights
Christmas parties and silent enchantments
Invisible but dwelling in the darkness of the stars
So humbling in all the georgian opacity
I yearn for the lights of the morning essence
Dream of the warmth in the hearth of men
Assuming in vain the welcome of all night blankets
And grieve in the vacancy of the traveller's awe.
Who takes the broom of the closets past
Who walks the dawn and evening stars
Who fawns over the reflection of the moon
Who tells of my works in their brilliant cocoon?
Dec 23, 2010
Dec 23, 2010 at 6:32 AM UTC
*
***lonely when you're with none
lonelier when with wrong one
and the loneliest when not
understood by the people your own..***
*
Mar 3, 2019
Mar 3, 2019 at 12:53 PM UTC