Tag Archives: lonely

Desire, Fiction & Poetry, fiction and poetry, Life, Love, Poems, Poetry, sadness

Being Truly Alone.

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My Love,
You have never been alone,
Sitting in an empty house
watching the rain shouldn’t make
you lonely, It should make you complete.

I remember the painter
who waited all evening
for people to visit his gallery.
No one did.
He closed the lights and shutter
himself.
He was truly alone.

I remember the singer
who played this afternoon in the
bar I was drinking.
No Damned Soul was listening to him
still, he played his best.
He was truly alone.

I remember the gentle foreigner
who drank beer at the table next to me.
At the very end, out of blur
he gave up and sought a corner
to call someone. He might have talked
for half an hour.
He was truly alone.

While I read the book,
sipped beer and wrote this poem.
yes, I was truly alone.

 

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dream, Fiction & Poetry, fiction and poetry, Life, pain, Poems, Poetry

Lonely

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A kaleidoscope
with broken mirrors.

Does it feel lonely?
as the lights slice
and bleed from the edges
of the shattered glasses,
corrupting a lifelong symmetry.

Solitary verses,
torn from a stolen diary,

Do they feel lonely?
as they float over a cold river,
to be never seen
or read again.

You, writing there alone,
imagining things never seen.

Do you feel lonely?
when your thoughts ferment into intoxicating verses,
leaving you behind in a monotonous universe
that doesn’t give a shit about your existence.

 

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Death, fiction and poetry, fiction&writing, Freehand Writing, Heart, Help, Life, Love, Poetry, Stories

Unheard.

Enclosed in a room,
not too large,
with just candles,
to light the night,
he lays down all day,
looking at the roof,
and outside through,
a small window,
to the blue sea,
the sunburnt boats,
fishermen with children
and sometimes the dolphins,
as the night draws near,
winds grow cold,
the moon shines bright,
and then he like us,
starts to write,
In candlelight,
about the life he never had,
of places he never saw,
Children he never had,
he then tears the paper,
rolls it and throws it out,
in hope of being read,
by someone,
like us.

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