Web of Loneliness Poems

Poems of the Lonely

Tag Archives: longing

Loud Silence

What can I do when the silence sets in

So deafening I can hear my heart beat

Its more frightening than it has ever been

Once again I retreat



From life, filled with shame and a tear

Needing a hug a friendly face, a smile

Needing someone near

Even if it’s only for a while



I shout Hey I’m nice, loving and kind !

Nobody’s listens and even the silence is too loud

So what’s the point of trying to find

A place to belong, to feel proud



Of who I am and how far I have come

The highest of hills and the deepest of seas

Impossible to imagine for some

That I did it all, survived, with ease



But the price I pay is steep

Lost myself, but make others smile

Me, the fighter, inside I weep

Longing to belong, if only for a while



I despise the silence but it comforts me as well

Safe from hurt, I ignore the chains

And the emptiness, no one can tell

That I feel this way, that the longing remains



Why can’t they see that I’m good and loving and kind ?

I guess it’s me who blocks their view

The one thing I’m looking for I can’t seem to find

What the Hell am I going to do ??



I open doors and lead the way

To my heart, my soul , me !

But no one never seems to stay

I look around , no one I see



I must be doing something wrong

To end up in the place I am

Too difficult , too weak, too strong?

I’m trying the best I can



To make others stay, to show I care

It works for a while and I am free!

But when I look again, nobody’s there

Yeah, it’s my fault I guess, it must be………



Far Away

– sbh

Some child, behind a whisper
does live for music


To hear shimmering tones
Melody, high, low, violin – Ashokan Waltz, Take Me Out to the Ballgame, Mozart
The sweet playing of one so young so as to set you heart weeping joyfully

To be touched again by the sweet angry eyes of another child’s longing to feel present
Who begs love because he does not know he is already

To be held with loving grace, the large long fingered hands, 6 feet tall, enwrapped

Some child, behind a whisper does live for music

A child hidden
Masked through firm hand, strong tiny form who dances with headphones mile upon mile upon mile

Young woman’s face
Enshrouded with wisps of silver, white, brown, black hair
The directional lines of The Prophet’s ‘seasonless’ world mapped deep, directional
cause, effect across her cheeks

Some child, behind the voice of conviction
Facts, diagrams, judgments
Saved by music

This child does live for music
Longing to be sung through aged lips