Loneliness poems from famous poets and best beautiful poems to feel good. Best loneliness poems ever written. Read all poems about loneliness.
We, unaccustomed to courage
exiles from delight
live coiled in shells of loneliness
until love leaves its high holy temple
Snow falling and night falling fast, oh, fast
In a field I looked into going past,
And the ground almost covered smooth in snow,
But a few weeds and stubble showing last.
I was hoping to be happy by seventeen.
School was a sharp check mark in the roll book,
An obnoxious tuba playing at noon because our team
Was going to win at night. The teachers were
she died of alcoholism
wrapped in a blanket
on a deck chair
on an ocean
Yearning for tenderness.
The one lost —It's so long -so long
The light wraps you in its mortal flame.
Abstracted pale mourner, standing that way
against the old propellers of the twighlight
that revolves around you.
Old fathers, great-grandfathers,
Rise as kindred should.
If ever lover's loneliness
Came where you stood,
Give me hunger,
O you gods that sit and give
The world its orders.
Give me hunger, pain and want,
Don't ever come now!
Deserts unnumbered have expanded in me.
The leaves are falling, falling as if from far up,
as if orchards were dying high in space.
Each leaf falls as if it were motioning "no."
Being apart and lonely is like rain.
It climbs toward evening from the ocean plains;
from flat places, rolling and remote, it climbs
to heaven, which is its old abode.
«Wer noch kein / Melancholiker ist, / Muß es hier werden»
At the first shadows upon Arcetri, step by step -absorbed
When you are in the midst of darkness
Where loneliness engulfs your soul
Twinges of hopelessness felt
Chirping sound of crickets heard
He sat there in the streaming light,
Silent, settled like the darkened night.
Rays channelled through the greys of ancient gloom,
Purifying his soul, natural hues of the moon.
I shall die in Paris, in a rainstorm,
On a day I already remember.
I shall die in Paris- it does not bother me-
Doubtless on a Thursday, like today, in autumn.
Men say the world is full of fear and hate,
And all life's ripening harvest-fields await
The restless sickle of relentless fate.
your heart beats shaped in a sorrowful poem..
filled by the heat of a hot ZONE, ..
The gold-hoarder walked in his palace park and with him walked his troubles. And over his head hovered worries as a vulture hovers over a carcass, until he reached a beautiful lake surrounded by magnificent marble statuary.
He sat there pondering the water which poured from the mouths of the statues like thoughts flowing freely from a lover's imagination, and contemplating heavily his palace which stood upon a knoll like a birth-mark upon the cheek of a maiden. His fancy revealed to him the pages of his life's drama which he read with falling tears that veiled his eyes and prevented him from viewing man's feeble additions to Nature.
Sinking deep in loneliness and emptiness, washed away by the waves, I'm at the shore, I see the turbulent waves, but I walk in, even though I cant surf. Loneliness comes in waves, Im empty and weightless but i still sink. Drowning in silence, no struggle at all, but still no calm, from the inner voices.
This illness is real
Afflicting a large swathe of the human spirit
Affecting both young and old
Loneliness is not a community-acquired disease
We enjoy nature's beauty in solitude
Be it moon and stars, floating clouds
Loneliness is always with you
Loneliness is the poverty of self; solitude is richness of self.
Oh this loneliness, this loneliness
That breaks my heart into a million pieces
That shakes my body like a storm
That makes my lips tremble like an aspen leaf
Blessed Be the Lonely on Earth
Loneliness, loneliness, loneliness!
It is something we feel,
There is a Loneliness of not being understood
There is a Loneliness of not being loved
There is a Loneliness of not being wanted
There is a Loneliness of being rejected
A state is called the coldest of all cold monsters. Coldly lieth it also; and this lie creepeth from its mouth: "I, the state, am the people."
Nietzsche, Thus Spake Zarathustra
Finally these guardian deities of the lonely spirit brought the war.
You are not to blame. I, of course, am not to blame. Everything is the doing of loneliness.
Loneliness made them carry guns, even made them, with the bait of loneliness, shrug off their mothers and wives
and leave toward where the flags flapped.
Trinket makers, cleaners, clerks, students,
all turning into folk shaken with the wind.(1)
Every and each one, no distinction among them. All taught to die was best.(2)
Petty, timid, good-natured people, their thoughts darkened in the name of the Emperor, went off like brats, delighted, hubbubbing.
But on the home front, we're nervous,
fearful of an arrow with white feathers, (3)
forcing ourselves to push aside skepticism and anxiety,
we try to spend just this one day, we're all doomed anyway,
drunk on the sake given out. (4)
Egoism, and the shallowness of love.
Bearing it in silence, women wait for rations,
linking themselves like beggars.
People's expressions growing sadder day by day,
the fate of the folk of an all-out nation,
I had not seen, since my birth, a loneliness so immediate, so profound.
But I no longer care. To me, such loneliness doesn't mean anything now.
The loneliness that I, I now truly feel lonely about
is that I can't feel, around me, any desire, not even of a single person,
holding his ground in the opposite direction of this degradation, trying to find the very roots of loneliness as he walks with the world. That's it. That's the only thing.
On 5 May 1945, Boys' Day (5)
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