The greatest poems about being alone

The poet’s life is often viewed as a lonely one – starving in garrets, pining away for lost loves, moping about the streets of the city looking for Baudelaire-style inspiration – so it should come as little surprise that there have been many classic poems written about solitude and loneliness. Here are ten of our favourite poems about isolation and being alone.

William Shakespeare, Sonnet 29. One of the most famous sonnets written by Shakespeare, this one contains the line ‘I all alone beweep my outcast state’, thus casting the poet as both solitary and shunned. But there is hope for him as he reflects on the love of the Fair Youth with whom he appears (in the sequence as it unfolds) to be in a burgeoning relationship…

Alexander Pope, ‘Ode on Solitude’. The most remarkable thing about this poem…

Mr. Nazeer Ahmed, wakes up slowly. His eyes open gradually. His arms and legs stretch. From the blurry yellow light objects begin to take form. He rolls slightly to his side and is about to drop out of his bed when his body orders the eyes wide open and his hands to flail out. One leg in air the other still in bed, he catches himself on the bedpost.

What? This isn’t my bed. This isn’t my room. Where am I?  

His eyes are greeted with a very bland sight of a room. The paint is chipped in places. A dirty mirror hangs on the wall in front of him. Besides the mirror a single steel hook, which appear to be the ad hoc wardrobe: shirts, pants, underpants, vests, all hang from it. On the floor, underneath this wardrobe sits a pile of socks. Some flies buzz about them…

Picture courtesy of: http://preventioncdnndg.org/eco-quartier/eco-tips-for-halloween/

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Please respect each authors’ and poets’ copyright. The rights remain with the writers. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from each of the poems author’s is strictly prohibited and violates copyright laws in the country you are reading this work in as well as in the country you are trying to re-publish this work in. – Aurora Jean Alexander

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Let’s Shine – by Melody J. Fisher

Four fat hollow pumpkins
Gutted, carved, and lit
Staring from the steps
Of the porch where they sit

One is very frightful
Another dons a hat
The biggest one is smiling
One resembles a cat

They just sit and watch
As the world passes them by
Making observations
Before they shrivel up and dry

They sit in silent judgement
As a couple bicker and complain
Listen in discomfort
As they cause each other…

Death, the one thing that is inevitable. It cannot be stopped. Life can be prolonged but death cannot be conquered. It comes from the darkness, taking its due.

But not all is sadness, for as writers, we have abilities that can even live long past our own death.

I am talking about our legacy.

We write stories each day. We create epic journeys of heroes conquering evil, of forgotten races rising from the depths and of love appearing in places of darkness; and we sometimes forget that we can change peoples lives.

We as writers can change so many peoples lives, every single day.

With this post, however, I am speaking about, in particular, our legacy.

The Macmillian Dictionary states legacy as,” something that someone has achieved that continues to exist after they stop working or die.”

I strongly believe that a writer’s legacy is incredibly important. Our life stories…

Calling ALL scribes!  This is a terrific opportunity for you to let your voice be heard, as Saturday, October 7th is

RANDOM ACTS of POETRY DAY

 Whoa!  Are they sure they know what they are doing here?  Unleashing bards and bardettes from all over the world to explode with poetic joy, any and every where they are?  Methinks, this could be one for the books…

or walls…

or coffee houses…

All of you who have a poem or two in your boodle bag, this is day to bring it out for some fresh air!  Write it on a wall (okay, write it on a sticky note and LEAVE IT on a wall),  sing it in your car or pretend you are part of an invisible flash mob and get it going while you are walking through the mall. Imagine that all the ghosts of poets past, are joining you, one…