Web of Loneliness Poems

Poems of the Lonely

Category Archives: Who am I?

My Home

Where do I belong,
I have been created by the almighty god, but what for,
Do I have purpose,
I was given life not knowing where I belong or knowing what my significance is.

Life has no purpose and all of us know it,
If life had purpose then why do we die,
I know nothing of myself,
I am so confused.

Why is life given to those who shall die,
Death is eminent so do not fear its presence,
If thou shan’t die today, you will die tomorrow,
Dying does not hurt unless you let it.

I cannot comprehend what I am supposed to do or why I am here,
Am I even real, Am I just a dream someone is having,
Where is my home,
I just feel so alone…

joshua isaiah

 

Insomnia

Sleep, come soothe my broken world

But I know, you won’t visit me when you’re told

Come sleep of my childhood

When hours on end

Up on trees, on mountains, in fileds

With friends I spent.

Even then, they were the birds,

they were books, beloved

flowers, and vampires from old folk tales

and countless dreams

of how my world could be.

Now time, continuous, lingers by

Dripping its course with venom

Numbing the soul and desire.

I fall in the vastness of the universe

Not shining as a star

But sinking in a black hole

Of forgetfullness,

Remembering all.

Tortured by night and by day

Wondering who am I.

A collection of talents and university degrees and post degrees?

A mirror shows me

a picture of someone familiar.

who is it?

Still a child, singing itself to the sleep that won’ t come.

Is it exile from my land?

no, an exile from the living.

A connection broken

Long before I was born.

An exile in time, a desert of mind.

So much to know, so much to do

Yet I fret, give up.

In the wee hours

everything i let unravel,

all becomes loose ends

Going nowhere.

It begins to dawn

Morning light of no hope

that the new day could bring.

only the infinity of this void that so terribly stings.

the night that joins the day,

and another night and day.

Endless cycle of desolation

and despair.

Come sleep.

 

Beautiful

They say it is beautiful

this country, the people,

why don’t I have eyes to see?

yet sometimes i glimpse it,

a rare comet burning

so quick to disappear.

Feelings of yearning

Pain left behind

the sparks of this

astral trail.

 

Adriana (Romania-Australia)