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Umi Jul 26
Eternally no word is spoken,
See it through your vision, this deserted shrine hidden within hellfire,
The dreams are fading into the slipping stream of time, vanishing,
In silence waiting seems to be alike an eternity, lonesome and sad,
If you believed you could try, all the same it's both the truth and a lie,
Silence, is what is called for in this abandoned, forgotten, rotten place
But if you were to spread your wings and were to fly,
Maybe then, you could reach high, rise from the fire and call through a voiceless barrier for help, but will the deaf understand you ?
This is, where all hope is lost to cause, where all words have come to pause, no message is delivered and prayers are sent by reticence,
So what makes you still look up to the burning sky the flames are controlling with pure rage and overwhelming fury beyond reason ?
Perhaps hope is something one can only lose last or frankly, never.
The feathers of your wings have burnt to dust and were scattered into the wind of the rampaging purgatory since a long gone past,
All you do is listening to your own voice in your head, over and over.
Bound to the ground, with no wings to fly.
Bound to silence, with no voice to cry.

~ Umi
Maya Aug 21
strained is
supposed to be
a word
for pasta
not
relationships.
sorry ive been shutting people out i dont know how to cope today was a bad day and i dont know how to feel
Bee Jul 16
how lonely must one be
for the warm embrace
of tears flooding your eyes
       ...to be considered comfort now


x.
osamělost: the czech translation of the word ¨loneliness¨
Martin Heath Sep 3
Lonesome Pine -

Today I knelt by your Lonesome Pine
Stroking spent needles from your face
Lying so lifeless scattered alas
Tho revealing your eyes still shine

Limbs outstretched shadow Heaven's staircase
Swaying gently 'gainst a morn's rays
Reflecting off steps weathered 'n worn
If only one lasting embrace

Still my knees felt weak upon that grass
As I strained to shed 'least a tear
Above I glanced then below I stared
Mere sand sifts thru an hourglass

Today I knelt at your sunlit shrine
Stroking hair of silk once again
Tonight these tears flow amongst my hands
Here alongside our Lonesome Pine
Regan Jul 27
I have a lonesome heart,
and I’m not afraid to admit it.
My friends think I’m boy-crazy.
But truth is, I’m just lonely.
Having a lonesome heart is miserable.
You feel empty and low
And once it feels complete
It’s broken again.
Nobody can love me,
And if they do,
I cannot accept it.
It feels unnatural
And strange,
Being sad, insane, and alone.
I’m just tired of it all. I want to love myself, but somehow I cannot accept my own love.
Caleb Hess Aug 23
A scorpion stings my foot and injects its pain inducing venom into me. The pain spreads throughout my body and as I suffer the scorpion laughs at me whilst I stand underneath the blazing, desert sun with nowhere to go. This vast, empty, waterless desert with nothing to see but sand. Sand as far as the human eye can see, so much empty space yet I still feel trapped in the scorpion’s presence. A dry skeleton confronts me and puts a hole into my arm and sucks all of the meat out of my body until I am only skin and bones. My skin twists and knots around my meatless bones.
I scream.
I scream.
I scream, but when I do it sounds like laughter, so the scorpion and the skeleton laugh with me.
A poem about how friendship can be confusing at times especially when you fail to express yourself and feeling with friends.
PoserPersona Jun 20
I.
The moon sings the languid flower,
  to bloom at midnight hour
Harmonious feast transpires -
  luminescent choir

Pedals mirror la hue de Luna,
  but pale below her glow
Though the desert sweet aroma,
  is fragrance plus photo

Neither causing nightly failure,
  in idyllic charm
In fact, those powers are greater,
  together than apart

II.
The moon a long gone distant rock,
  yet pulls on ocean tops
Cereus lures with sweetest tricks,
  and stings with countless licks  

Battered holy asteroid face,
 woos flawless solar gaze
And even though it causes mire,
  lunar eclipses fire

The cactus thrives in driest sands,
  and chokes in fertile lands
Alluring lonesome wanderers,
  promising mere water

The lucid beauty bewilders,
  as much as it can haunt
In fact, those powers are greater,
  together than apart

III.
You, once my cereus and moon,
  were drowned in my love well
Perhaps, I was this to you too,
  though your hole I’d not delve

However, what was first velvet,
  morphed into devil’s horns
Winter shed those thorns in my chest,
  now spring gifts hope and more

The icy grips of each winter,
  provides spring fuel to spark
In fact, those powers are greater,
  together than apart

IV.
Although we’ve gone on our own ways,
  I wouldn’t change the past
For each step was necessary,
  to find true love at last

We were once greater together.


I’m now greater apart.
Lazhar Bouazzi May 2016
Writing is
the frozen music
of an ellipsis,
the silent song
of a lonesome poet
who sings in the dark
among howling winds
crossing swords
in the white shades
of unseen things -
a winter on the Pole
on whose  obverse side
there's Rio,
and dancing
and mirth
and the sun's critique
of hegemony.

© Lazhar Bouazzi, May 31, 2016
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