Web of Loneliness Poems

Poems of the Lonely

Category Archives: Who am I?

Poems by Yanci

Dreams

Dreams is all I have , but I’m not trying to walk through life and make them come true. In one year I will be out of high school and into the world. I am scare , but I know, that I’ll make it, I just have to try harder and harder everyday of my life.
by: Yanci

Comments: when I wrote this I was in the last days of my junior year. All the teachers were talking about how we had to start getting ready for our senior year and that it was going to be hard trying to choose which one was the right college for us. While each of them were saying this I realized that I have all this dreams of what I want to be and were I want to go but I am not trying to make them come true. That is when I started to write this poem because it says that I was feeling before and what I am feeling now.

A life crying

Why is life so difficult. Haven’t I suffered enough. Seventeen years of my life and it won’t stop. Why me, not that anybody deserves it , I guess that is how life is. You have got to suffer to be happy at the end.
by: Yanci

Comment this poem was also written at the end of my junior year. I was passing through hard moments. The problems with my mom were driving me crazy. I was feeling like she didnt’ want me here with her, as if she wanted me to leave and on top of it I knew that I couldn’t go anywhere. The rest of my family is in my country and we would just die of hunger and it would show that I am a failure which I am not. The poem says seventeen years crying because that is how old I am and I have been crying for two main reasons since I remember. Not feeling loved by my mom and knowing that my father denied me and never looked for me. I always think hat my life could had been better emotionally if he was with me.

With a mask

When I was a little girl , I would dream of the beautiful life that I was going to live. But I never thought that it would be the other way. I have to smile to cover up the tears. I have to pretend I am happy when I want to scream. I have to say I am fine when I want to say get out of my life. But one day I will take the mask off and show my real face. I just have to wait. I know that it will happen some day.
by: Yanci

Comments this poem has the same story as the previous one ( a life crying) I wrote it with a couple of days of difference but it was for the same feeling. I don’t show people who I really am.

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Untitled

Accepting myself
The fact that I don’t
That I am not feeling comfortable
Being around them
But when i’m alone
I am me

I like spending time with myself
I like being on my own
I am not blaspheming
Against my call
It is just that I like
Being alone
Because I am
Free
I am
Me

And suddenly
I can achieve more things
Then I would have
If I was with you
I don’t want to
disrespect you
But it’s  just that
It feels good to spend some time
AlOnE.

Gloria Tamaniya.

Untitled

I’m looking at myself in the mirror.

Asking myself after all the hard works I have done, what does this stranger wants from me?!

I don’t know am I staring at him or he is staring at me?

I don’t want to believe what I see.

I close my eyes for a secant.

I’m asking myself if there is anyway I can take this mask off.

I start shaking my hand.

My hand tells me everything I had to know.

They point me in the mirror and telling me that’s you in the mirror not anyone else.

After all these days, I have been walking in the stories with loneliness in every secant.

I can tell from my face that there is nothing left in me.

Mirror is trying to tell me I am the one who wanted to catch the sun with my hands.

But now the darkness of nights is my place and I am dying silently in it.

I broke the mirror so it won’t talk about my past and dreams again.

But mirror breaks into thousand pieces, but there is still my picture in every broken piece.

Pictures are telling me with funny faces, cut the hope from the sky.

There is no difference in your days; they all smell the same old desire.

Untitled

I am always alone
nobody calls me on the phone
i cant talk to my dad cause he’ll just scream at me
my mother lives far away and i doubt that she’ll be
concerned with anyone else
besides herself
my hopes and dreams are
best put on the shelf
best forgotten about cause
all i want to do is hang out with people tonight
but i cant do that without starting some dumb fight
it doesn’t matter, even if i believe that im right
because at the end of the day
i still lose
left by myself with nothing to say
loneliness is not something that you choose
-Fremen

Soledade

I’m taking a Sunday walk on an empty road

the celebrated sun pushes from behind

my shadow stretches a mile long before me

I am not lost in thought I just walk

carelessly kicking pebbles and stones along the way

As if they were the scattered letters of individual words

of broken sentences from the answers I

have not heeded and now in my greatest need

They are just so much dust and gravel to scuff my shoes

stones to skip across the lake and boulders to build a cairn

for some-one who may or may not one-day wonder

for at least a solitary moment

about the one who has taken the time and trouble

to use these wasted answers and all these

discarded dreams to build a monument of rubble

that has no meaning that doesn’t do anything.

But when my own shadow is as my betrothed

my shade likened to a lover, there it is

my reflection has become my sole companion

everywhere I go

I have grown to detest my own wearisome caress

How I despise what my flesh must accept as pleasure

For one alone who has fallen falls and falls so foul so low

with no others arms to reach out and catch them

so lost so craven where there is no care to soften

When the tongue has become torn in ragged bloody shreds

From pleading imploring beseaching using every possible word

Or combination therein in every language ever spoken by man

Asking whatever power there is that may govern

To bring whom I have proven so worthy of over and over

Yet alone here

I

stand

There is not gold enough from ten thousand rainbows

Nor any answers from the mysterys of the secrets of the ages

that could possibly have any value

No!

Nor could mean a god damned thing to me!

 

© m e m/ 2001/ QuickSand Ballet