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In solitude, where we are least alone.

quote by Lord Byron
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In Solitude

A glass of red wine spent
Recalling life's events
Crowded in my skin
In Solitude

Relishing a melody of lament
Drifting through my window
Gliding in uninvited
In solitude

Last night I cried out loud
For the sake of hearing a sound
Though I did not hear me
In solitude

Gawking at my naked fear
Of living a life unseen
Yearning to belong
In solitude

I woke up in the evening
Read a book out loud
My voice wavering
In Solitude

As the heroine yearned
In an isolated crowd
To be loved
In solitude

I walked around naked
In my new home
My skin in flames
In solitude

Every molecule of air
Brushing against me
Scorched in vain
In solitude

It was raining that morn
When I came to life
My throat stinging
In solitude

I see no soul
I hear no breathing
I smell no skin
In solitude

[...] Read more

poem by Deva De Silva
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In The Solitude Of Prayer

In the solitude of prayer
deep
Lost in moments in between weep
and sleep

In the solitude of prayer
Lonliness finds a rest
Survived another test
Brings out our best

In the solitude of prayer
With nobody there
Except those far away
Reminded of their distant care

In the solitude of prayer
You pray for their smile
For their personal trial
Silently, all the while

In the solitude of prayer
Dreams seem more near
More hope than fear
Thoughts of those past those dear

In the solitude of prayer
Pray for their souls kind
Whose memory is still in your mind
And in your heart

In the solitude of prayer
Pray for your dear friends
Whose heart's you defend
As your own heart they mend

In the solitude of prayer
As for God's wisdom
And his love
As all love comes from above

In the solitude of prayer
Find grace to forgive
And to truely give
And to live

In the solitude of prayer
Recall how to dream
Of warm embraces of affection
And of love returned in your direction

[...] Read more

poem by James T. Adair
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The Weight of Poetry

Poetry is core of arts
It’s not strange!
Not knowing that poetry is core of all arts
It’s not strange as well!
The many who don’t know that poetry is core of all arts
It’s not a strange at all!

Although the poets usually make foes against vulgarity
A city makes the poets wandering on the streets
Should utterly lack of the manner and style
A society brings the resentment to the poets
Should fully lack of consciousness

Solitude is the major topic in life
Solitude is poetry

Lack of poetry, art is a form of imitation
Lack of poetry, power is a presumptuous mediocrity
Lack of poetry, fortune is a wealthy poverty
Lack of poetry, love is a superficial organ

The extreme of love- solitude
The extreme of wealth- solitude
The extreme of power – solitude
The extreme of art- solitude
The extreme of climax - solitude
The extreme of world - solitude
The extreme of planets- solitude

Those who have never explored loneliness
Can write down the weight of poetry?

poem by DePen Chang
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Solitude

How many times have you told me you love her
As many times as I've wanted to tell you the truth
How long have I stood here beside you
I live through you
You looked through me
Ooh, Solitude,
Still with me is only you
Ooh, Solitude,
I can't stay away from you
How many times have I done this to myself
How long will it take before I see
When will this hole in my heart be mended
Who now is left alone but me
Ooh, Solitude,
Forever me and forever you
Ooh, Solitude,
Only you, only true
Everyone leave me stranded
Forgotten, abandoned, left behind
I can't stay here another night
Your secret admirer
Who could it be
Ooh, Can't you see
All along it was me
How can you be so blind
As to see right through me
And Ooh, Solitude,
Still with me is only you
Ooh, Solitude,
I can't stay away from you
Ooh, Solitude,
Forever me and forever you
Ooh, Solitude,
Only you, only true

song performed by Evanescence
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Accademia Dei Solinghi

KANTATE IHR VOELKER HOERT

IT is her alone
Now singing
Her lonely song
As though
She is on a very
High tower
On a very
High mountaintop.

WHAT I admire
most is her skill
Of singing
Solitude as though
It is a common
Piece
That any maiden
Of the town
Can sing

and
Sing it well.

A perfect voice
Of solitude
Singing

Alleluia
Alleluia

The God
On High
Shall come
And the
Bride must
Be ready
for the
God-groom

She sings so
Skillfully
And the mountains
And valleys and
All the people
Of the town
Listen and
They cannot
Tell what time

[...] Read more

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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In Solitude

In solitude I remain
With absolutely nothing to gain
Perhaps in time I will be strong
You see! Solitude is not my favourite song

A solitary place
Is not where I belong
Read my lips and trace the lines on my face
You see! Solitude is not my favourite song

But social isolation
Combined with social manipulation
Places me once again in solitude
You see! Solitude is not my preferred attitude

This isn’t a journey of spiritual enlightenment
As some people might say to my resentment
But in great loneliness of this magnitude
I must find some self awareness in solitude

I must find strength and pretend
That everyone around me is my friend
To put this state of scale of elevation to an end
I must pretend, I must pretend
That even Solitude is my friend

poem by Sylvia Chidi
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The Seven Sisters

Or, The Solitude Of Binnorie

SEVEN Daughter had Lord Archibald,
All children of one mother:
You could not say in one short day
What love they bore each other.
A garland, of seven lilies, wrought!
Seven sisters that together dwell;
But he, bold Knight as ever fought,
Their Father, took of them no thought,
He loved the wars so well.
Sing, mournfully, oh! mournfully,
The solitude of Binnorie!

Fresh blows the wind, a western wind,
And from the shores of Erin,
Across the wave, a Rover brave
To Binnorie is steering:
Right onward to the Scottish strand
The gallant ship is borne;
The warriors leap upon the land,
And hark! the Leader of the band
Hath blown his bugle horn.
Sing, mournfully, oh! mournfully,
The solitude of Binnorie!

Beside a grotto of their own,
With boughs above them closing,
The Seven are laid, and in the shade
They lie like fawns reposing.
But now, upstarting with affright
At noise of man and steed,
Away they fly to left, to rightÑ
Of your fair household, Father-knight,
Methinks you take small heed!
Sing, mournfully, oh! mournfully,
The solitude of Binnorie!

Away the even fair Campbells fly,
And, over hill and hollow,
With menace proud, and insult loud,
The youthful Rovers follow.
Cried they, 'Your Father loves to roam:
Enough for him to find
The empty house when he comes home;
For us your yellow ringlets comb,
For us be fair and kind!'
Sing, mournfully, oh! mournfully,
The solitude of Binnorie!

[...] Read more

poem by William Wordsworth
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Sign Of Solitude

GN OF SOLITUDE

A lugubrious tree high above the lot,
Yearning for an embrace tight,
It is a sign of solitude.
From the leafy world of forest deep,
A fluttery leaf falls when ripe,
It is a sign of solitude.
A scarlet flower shakes its head
But the wind dooms a petal dead,
It `s a sign of solitude.
A flock of birds among the clouds,
Finding all a bliss to the eyes,
A hunter lurks below on earth,
Aims one down for a wholesome feast,
That is a sign of solitude.
Friendship, kinship and lover's bliss,
Frizzles to mud at death's one kiss.
Jocund jolly friendly men,
Shrinks to viscid pit alone.
So death is a sign of solitude.
Glorious sun who makes us gay,
Is a loner in the Milky Way?
So HE is a sign of solitude.

poem by Sheela Devi
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Solitude is never worse,

Solitude is never worse,
Solitude can never be worse,
Either way killing is not good,
Tyranny is not a wise calling in murders,
But a solitude with Ideas that change what is Human,
For man is a wild animal,
The monologue of good is even better,

This World hast a lot of problems,
We must bear to see fortune and not felonies,
That man is blessed that say's mankind is to love other's,
But detractors of solitude never cease to ease,

Solitude is never worse if it is for good of Humane,
Virtue is an insight that will regenerate a beauty of concept,
Thinking that solitude is not bad anyway,
But not solitude in making enemies,
But as a teacher,
An advisor and a good communicator.

poem by Maxpoet Beauty
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Solitude

In my solitude you haunt me
With reveries of days gone by
In my solitude you taunt me
With memories that never die
I sit in my chair
Filled with despair
Nobody could be so sad
With gloom evrywhere
I sit and I stare
I know that Ill soon go mad
In my solitude
Im praying
Dear lord above
Send back my love
Alternative lyric:
In my solitude you haunt me
With reveries of days gone by
In my solitude you taunt me
With memories that never die
I sit in my chair
Im filled with despair
Theres no one could be so sad
With gloom evrywhere
I sit and I stare
I know that Ill soon go mad
In my solitude
Im praying
Dear lord above
Send back my love

song performed by Ella Fitzgerald
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Solitude

(1934) eddie delange, irving mills, duke ellington
In my solitude you haunt me
With reveries of days gone by
In my solitude you taunt me
With memories that never die
I sit in my chair
Filled with despair
Nobody could be so sad
With gloom evrywhere
I sit and I stare
I know that Ill soon go mad
In my solitude
Im praying
Dear lord above
Send back my love
Original lyric
In my solitude you haunt me
With reveries of days gone by
In my solitude you taunt me
With memories that never die
I sit in my chair
Im filled with despair
Theres no one could be so sad
With gloom evrywhere
I sit and I stare
I know that Ill soon go mad
In my solitude
Im praying
Dear lord above
Send back my love

song performed by Nina Simone
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Book Second [School-Time Continued]

THUS far, O Friend! have we, though leaving much
Unvisited, endeavoured to retrace
The simple ways in which my childhood walked;
Those chiefly that first led me to the love
Of rivers, woods, and fields. The passion yet
Was in its birth, sustained as might befall
By nourishment that came unsought; for still
From week to week, from month to month, we lived
A round of tumult. Duly were our games
Prolonged in summer till the daylight failed:
No chair remained before the doors; the bench
And threshold steps were empty; fast asleep
The labourer, and the old man who had sate
A later lingerer; yet the revelry
Continued and the loud uproar: at last,
When all the ground was dark, and twinkling stars
Edged the black clouds, home and to bed we went,
Feverish with weary joints and beating minds.
Ah! is there one who ever has been young,
Nor needs a warning voice to tame the pride
Of intellect and virtue's self-esteem?
One is there, though the wisest and the best
Of all mankind, who covets not at times
Union that cannot be;--who would not give
If so he might, to duty and to truth
The eagerness of infantine desire?
A tranquillising spirit presses now
On my corporeal frame, so wide appears
The vacancy between me and those days
Which yet have such self-presence in my mind,
That, musing on them, often do I seem
Two consciousnesses, conscious of myself
And of some other Being. A rude mass
Of native rock, left midway in the square
Of our small market village, was the goal
Or centre of these sports; and when, returned
After long absence, thither I repaired,
Gone was the old grey stone, and in its place
A smart Assembly-room usurped the ground
That had been ours. There let the fiddle scream,
And be ye happy! Yet, my Friends! I know
That more than one of you will think with me
Of those soft starry nights, and that old Dame
From whom the stone was named, who there had sate,
And watched her table with its huckster's wares
Assiduous, through the length of sixty years.

We ran a boisterous course; the year span round
With giddy motion. But the time approached
That brought with it a regular desire

[...] Read more

poem by William Wordsworth
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Attitude (Lyrics)

Maybe I act on confused behavior.
Maybe waves crash like semi-trailer.
Maybe I’ll spend my off time without you.
It seems like we need our own space.

And all this time I wasted away;
Do not feel good unless you stay stay stay.
And all this time I chased you away,
Simply to catch back up with,

Your solitude is welcome welcome.
Your attitude is welcome welcome.
Your solitude is welcome, welcome
Your attitude is welcome.

All you see is red lights behind me,
Maybe this isn’t what you wanted baby.
And I don’t blame you falling backwards,
No one’s ever quite confused you this way.

And all this time we wasted away;
We don’t feel good unless we’re gray gray.
And all the times I chased you away,
I simply don’t feel good.

Your solitude is welcome welcome.
Your attitude is welcome welcome.
Your solitude is welcome welcome.
Your attitude is welcome.

You are welcome.
You are welcome.
You are welcome.
You are welcome.

All this time,
We heard,
Alarms,
Come to find,
We fell,
Apart.
This whole thing has crashed down,
Crashed down.
All this time,
We heard,
Alarms.

Your solitude is welcome welcome.
Your attitude is welcome welcome.
Your solitude is welcome welcome.

[...] Read more

poem by Satan's Sibling
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A Poet Until 21st Century

Alone, solitude
Fresh mornings, afternoons and nights
Solitude, alone
Social confusions, drama of hot desires
Alone, solitude
Among social truths
Among art of phoenix world
Solitude, alone
Among worldly plays of knowledge society
Alone, solitude
In the variety shows of storms, beautiful forests
and on the wonderful and magical mountains
Of the universal truths
poet Nyein Way

poem by Nyein Way
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(V – 2010) The Serenity of Solitude

At times lonely
When we go for a solitary walk
Down the silent valley of solitude:

As we whisper a casual word
It echoes back to us with a renewed energy!
That’s the serenity of solitude.

As we throw a casual glance
It captures for us a hitherto unseen beauty!
That’s the serenity of solitude.

As we touch a casual thought
It blooms before us as profound poetry!
That’s the serenity of solitude.

At times busy
Something entices us to take a solitary walk –
That’s the serenity of solitude!

poem by Kannan G
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Solitude

A solitude enjoyed...
Has been a solitude earned.
One who appreciates a quietness,
Is deserving of a mind at rest.

A few who arrive...
Will confess a complete acceptance,
With a welcomeness.
Especially after dealing,
With those who find themselves still reeling,
Back and forth with feelings mixed.
From lives showing signs of an emptiness.
Devoid of a happiness they keep stalled...
Without a desire to remove this at all.
Existing with drifting wishes.

I appreciate my solitude.
Every chance I get!
It is quite different than being alone,
In an unwanted loneliness...
Others may perceive,
One condones and grieves!
This solitude,
Has been chosen to satisfy a certain mood!
And not to be confused,
With one who sits to brood in an attitude.
Those fits of mind are totally diminished...
When a solitude comes to implant and plenish!

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The Troubadour. Canto 1

CALL to mind your loveliest dream,--
When your sleep is lull'd by a mountain stream,
When your pillow is made of the violet,
And over your head the branches are met
Of a lime-tree cover'd with bloom and bees,
When the roses' breath is on the breeze,
When odours and light on your eyelids press
With summer's delicious idleness;
And upon you some shadowy likeness may glance
Of the faery banks of the bright Durance;
Just where at first its current flows
'Mid willows and its own white rose,--
Its clear and early tide, or ere
A shade, save trees, its waters bear.

The sun, like an Indian king, has left
To that fair river a royal gift
Of gold and purple; no longer shines
His broad red disk o'er that forest of pines
Sweeping beneath the burning sky
Like a death-black ocean, whose billows lie
Dreaming dark dreams of storm in their sleep
When the wings of the tempest shall over them sweep.
--And with its towers cleaving the red
Of the sunset clouds, and its shadow spread
Like a cloak before it, darkening the ranks
Of the light young trees on the river's banks,
And ending there, as the waters shone
Too bright for shadows to rest upon,
A castle stands; whose windows gleam
Like the golden flash of a noon-lit stream
Seen through the lily and water-flags' screen:
Just so shine those panes through the ivy green,
A curtain to shut out sun and air,
Which the work of years has woven there.
--But not in the lighted pomp of the west
Looks the evening its loveliest;
Enter yon turret, and round you gaze
On what the twilight east displays:
One star, pure, clear, as if it shed
The dew on each young flower's head;
And, like a beauty of southern clime,
Her veil thrown back for the first time,
Pale, timid as she feared to own
Her claim upon the midnight throne,
Shows the fair moon her crescent sign.
--Beneath, in many a serpentine,
The river wanders; chesnut trees
Spread their old boughs o'er cottages
Where the low roofs and porticoes

[...] Read more

poem by Letitia Elizabeth Landon
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0011 How Rilke might have translated Bashó on poetry

Be solitary.
Love solitude, and don’t look for poetry;
don’t seek what former poets sought;
see what is still and changeless;
see also what is changing;
be filled with the true nature of things – mountains, rivers, trees, grasses, falling blossoms, the scattering leaves,
and, yes, humanity too, its true nature –
and the universe will become your companion.
So your solitude will be full of the universe;
and you will watch, unmoved, the reality
and the vacuity of the world.

Concentrate your thoughts, in solitude,
on an object, on each object;
in this concentration,
the space between oneself and the object will disappear,
and the essential nature of the object can be perceived.

Then be quick to express it, while it lives for you;
say quickly what is in your mind;
as a woodcutter fells a tree, or
a swordsman leaps at his enemy, or
as you cut a ripe watermelon with a sharp knife,
or take a large bite at a pear;
this immediacy will be the life of your poem,
for nature will write the poem for you.

The language may be untrue;
but it will live with the truth.

You may feel that writing so quickly,
you may always fail; but pay no attention;
know no other thing than writing poetry;
let it make you penniless, if that is
what it needs, to speak itself.

Then, in your solitude,
which is so full of everything,
the poetic spirit will lead you wherever you must go,
make you a friend of nature,
and every form of existence will reveal
its individual feelings to you –
which are similar to those of men;
and all things, you will know, have their fulfilment.

In this solitude, your mind will be undistracted;
and then, enlightened by nature itself,
you may return to the world,
with a lightness of being, and poems
as light as looking

[...] Read more

poem by Michael Shepherd
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Rosalind and Helen: a Modern Eclogue

ROSALIND, HELEN, and her Child.

SCENE. The Shore of the Lake of Como.

HELEN
Come hither, my sweet Rosalind.
'T is long since thou and I have met;
And yet methinks it were unkind
Those moments to forget.
Come, sit by me. I see thee stand
By this lone lake, in this far land,
Thy loose hair in the light wind flying,
Thy sweet voice to each tone of even
United, and thine eyes replying
To the hues of yon fair heaven.
Come, gentle friend! wilt sit by me?
And be as thou wert wont to be
Ere we were disunited?
None doth behold us now; the power
That led us forth at this lone hour
Will be but ill requited
If thou depart in scorn. Oh, come,
And talk of our abandoned home!
Remember, this is Italy,
And we are exiles. Talk with me
Of that our land, whose wilds and floods,
Barren and dark although they be,
Were dearer than these chestnut woods;
Those heathy paths, that inland stream,
And the blue mountains, shapes which seem
Like wrecks of childhood's sunny dream;
Which that we have abandoned now,
Weighs on the heart like that remorse
Which altered friendship leaves. I seek
No more our youthful intercourse.
That cannot be! Rosalind, speak,
Speak to me! Leave me not! When morn did come,
When evening fell upon our common home,
When for one hour we parted,--do not frown;
I would not chide thee, though thy faith is broken;
But turn to me. Oh! by this cherished token
Of woven hair, which thou wilt not disown,
Turn, as 't were but the memory of me,
And not my scornèd self who prayed to thee!

ROSALIND
Is it a dream, or do I see
And hear frail Helen? I would flee
Thy tainting touch; but former years
Arise, and bring forbidden tears;

[...] Read more

poem by Percy Bysshe Shelley
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Silence Oceans

Oceans of life,
Oceans in one's life
are wonderful,
Heart is one ocean
Brain is another ocean,
mind is the third,
Trifles are fourth,
Intelligence and wit make fifth,
wisdom and knowledge sixth,
God and Love are seventh!
Soul is the land,
Raised above these oceans
And look as their shore,
Every instant a wave of thought hits the shore!

High tides of happiness,
low tides of sorrow,
High tides of success,
Low tides of failure hit the shore!

Ego is that wind blowing,
Desires and pride are changing gravity
cause wave and tide!
Sometimes disappointment,
Or hurt ego,
can create storm and tsunami!

Silence in solitude,
become grand solitude,
Takes one to that altitude,
everything is cool in love and gratitude,
Peace incarnate in multitude,
In that great solitude,

When wind stops,
and become still,
When there is no movement Of Sun and Moon,
When everything comes to still,

No waves, no tides,
ocean meets shore, all in love,
No raising or falling tides,
No roar of chasing waves,
That is that grand silence,
Silence of All oceans,
When no bird fly or sing,
When no events,
they are
Time's own parents,
And time give birth to

[...] Read more

poem by Ramdas Bhandarkar
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