I am an accustomed lonely person
It seems I should be numb by now
But being long alone it just worsens
I forbid self ruth but break the vow
Which casts me further down a funk
Into an endless loop it never fails
I eat my noxious woe like a devoted monk
Aggrieved by bane of life's travails
A deep gyre calls my name within my head
I crave effetely for a crumb of bliss
I feel secure cocooned and swathed in dread
Absorbed the mind will roam the Id's abyss
To those who with their mind become engrossed
Be warned the hungry Id insanely eats its host
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Author:
George (My real name) (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: January 28th, 2016 12:51
- Comment from author about the poem: Though not overwhelmed with loneliness I sometimes wish I had a companion. Maybe I will get a dog, I cannot seem to find a mate of the human female variety.
- Category: Reflection
- Views: 28
Offline)
Comments2
I thoroughly enjoy this poem...
Perhaps it is some symptom of my relatively young age, or the fact that I am, at heart, a romantic...
Age (and wisdom) have yet to grace my hopeful, sunlit skies.
Whether these ephemeral fronts (of the meteorological variety, albeit metaphorical in nature) should be warm or cold, light or dense, humid or dry, and what fair or calamitous weather should result in their conjoining, remains to be observed.
However, If a fool must believe in true love, or wisdom the unwitting companion to a certain semblance of cynicism, then I would much prefer the lot of the love-struck fool to that of the gray-bearded and sagacious man.
I admire your style and your predicament.
However, there was an old adage... "One either is lucky at bones. or lucky at love..."
Bones being kind of like dice.
Keep searching for that companion of the female variety, but know... that there is more within the heart than can be ever be conceived of by the mind.
A true poet's one true love is beauty, itself.
And through your poetry, be it by means of the written word, or some other equal art, (assuming that 'poetry' can be evinced in any earthly undertaking) may you find true beauty.
I wish upon you, wiser one, all the beauty in the world.
For, surely such a poet as yourself could make better use of it than I.
I'm sorry for the delay Severus but I do truly appreciate the comments. You are correct a poet's love is beauty indeed.
A serious read. I get a sense of spiraling deeper and deeper downward. Thanks.
Thank you Augustus. Your comments mean a lot to me.
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