People are lonely places

Discussion in 'Poetry' started by EmyleeShadow04, Aug 20, 2005.

  1. EmyleeShadow04

    EmyleeShadow04 Member

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    People are Lonely Places

    People are Lonely Places;
    single trees on peaks.
    They’re widowed Grecian urns
    in stores that sell antiques.

    They’re found in barren taverns
    pond’ring over beer.
    But Tragic isn’t who; no-
    it’s where- it’s there. It’s here.

    You notice it at diners
    in waitress’ ‘Goodnights’.
    But sadder than the patrons
    are broken neon lights.

    I’ve walked on distant beaches-
    on every dancing dune-
    I’ve heard the din of nothing
    on mountains of the moon.

    I may yet reach the stars,
    and scale the clines of Hell.
    I still could outlast Death—
    —defy what Fate compel.

    I’ll swallow up the ocean!
    I’ll turn the day to night!
    I’ll topple all convention
    of what is wrong and right!

    I’ll call down God from Heaven;
    from Heaven He’ll descend.
    I’ll make what’s dead, alive,
    and all that’s real, pretend.

    no matter what I traverse.
    Regardless, what I do.
    We’ll still be lonely places.
    We’re single, me and you:

    “You’ll never know my motives;”
    (At least, that is, for sure.)
    We’ll say what we are feeling,
    yet soul remains obscure.

    And though these Lonely Places
    betray exegesis,
    in my mind they’ll abide—

    I’ll never see the moors
    that Emily proclaimed.
    I’m trapped in worlds of words—
    a Jungle left untamed.

    I’ll touch you but I’ll miss you;
    you might profess your Love,

    I’m trapped in Lonely Places;
    I’m right below Above.

    To each his Lonely Place
    in which he’ll long reside;
    gratuity of Hell
    to make his beauty pied.

    I am I am I—
    —and you are you are you;
    we’ll both keep wond’ring why
    what’s True’s not true’s not True.

    You are caught in your eyes;
    I am trapped in mine.
    I’ll never see the world
    but as the Fates consign.

    Moons and Suns I’ll labor
    to span this ‘stending cleft,
    but with my sure departure
    my place will stay
  2. sylvanlightning

    sylvanlightning Prismatic Essence

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    We in the fullness lose ourselves beyond points and parts, melting into these god-puddles like ecstatic lounging lovers of simple peace; first embrace of a new work, more of a gentle brush than a seal.

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