All the riches in the world
Cannot buy a soft caress
They, who are mostly alone
And unloved, from all the rest
It is Winter, never Spring
Solitude, is quite, a thing.
Open flowers never come,
An embrace, the wind that flows
Unaccomplished state of grace
For a life that never grows
Never happens, never glows
Without love, all stagnates,
Closed.
Without love,
With whom to share
Life is barren
Full of care,
Tears become, shadowy mist
Covered eyes, images blurred
Oh the soul, no place to go
Misery's song, a mere
Stone's through.
Worthless are the many words
Consolations, have been heard
When alone, life is absurd
Even birds, fly as a couple
All we know is lifeless statues,
Those are really made of stone.
And don't care if they're alone.
The plight of a lovelorn soul narrated in an intensity that is most touching. Thanks for sharing.
Worthless are the many words Consolations, have been heard When alone, life is absurd Even birds, fly as a couple All we know is lifeless statues, Those are really made of stone. And don't care if they're alone... beautiful
Eloquently and tenderly written verse of the bane of loneliness. Hope this is not the case with you Sandra. Well composed. -
A magnificent poem! Please ignore the idiotic comment of an anonymous trouble maker...I know who is taking enough pleasure in these kind of activities! Just ignore such kind of useless comments! Always be bold and enjoy your passion of poetry!
A wonderful, poignant and perceptive poem on love. Loneliness have been so vividly depicted. Yes, when alone, life is absurd. So beautifully written.
I am not ignoring your beautiful poetry - I cannot get the browser on my computer to make solid contact with any site on the internet- even my gmail. I have to get this Vista thing replaced. I love your poetic heart and your sincere pen! ! !
oh, Sandra! ! ! this is so true and talented- -shows that sorrow can be beautifully written about- -10+++++++++++ and to my favorites
A magnificently made piece, dear Ma'am Sandra.....10+++++++++++++++
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
You sound as if you cannot find another.