The Lonely

We are the lonely and together we stand
We crowd the streets, we are all around
We are the lonely and do not know how
To talk to each other, our minds won’t allow

Social constraint and too much stress
Make us lead the life of utter loneliness
If we could only stop to say hello
Then hell would go just by adding an ‘o’

We are the lonely, we do not speak
We are not elite, we are the many, the meek
On an average day we go out to work
We get our heads down and do not shirk

And then at night we go home to cold TV
There is no noisy you watching, only silent me
At night we dream of meeting a good friend
A problem to share, the boiler to mend.

Amelia Runcorn lies cold in her grave
No one misses her and what she gave
She lived alone on the forgotten estate
Seeing out her time with no one to relate

Dominic Lithgowe lived across the way
Every evening he’d close his eyes and pray
But gods don’t listen, they are rarely there
They leave hopeful pleas hanging in mid-air

Every face tells a story, every line a regret
A moment of hesitation, we try to forget
A chance swings by as real as concrete
Touching your senses, a feeling complete

When we were together in fields of light
We tasted the world and it felt so right
The sun stood high in its temple of sky
Blessing each one of us, telling us why

Reviews

[Davidgeo]

I think this describes the lifestyle of more people than we know. Even people with families can feel this brand of solitude if the situation goes to pot or a significant other changes drastically over time into something bland or awful.

I think this is the best thing I've read here in a while. Well written, honest and relatable. . . good work.

[Silmara McGarry]

The way of leaving of planet earth. Sadly indeed. But hope should never die and love should touch the hearts of many I pray. If approached each other humans would feel less lonely, one should make the first step. Absolutely very well pinned!! And though is sadly true I truly enjoyed reading.
Stay blessed 🙏🏻
All best dear
:-)

[emmajoygreen]

'Every face tells a story, every line a regret
A moment of hesitation, we try to forget
A chance swings by as real as concrete
Touching your senses, a feeling complete'

Someone once wrote that loneliness manifested itself when he was on a train. Every traveler was reading or looking down at the shoes of the people sitting opposite. The only noises were shuffling feet or a child crying. I think that might be true, especially today when fear walks with us. Will striking up a conversation be misunderstood? Once upon a time people would smile or nod, wink or chat and no offence would be taken. Loneliness seems to be part of life, (especially since Covid hit). How many times during a month do we wonder how a neighbour or near forgotten person is 'these days' - and how many might have thought the same of you and me? We're all lonely.. sometimes, it only needs recognition to feel part of the human race - as your honest, deeply felt words suggest.

Saying hello is a vital part of being a Being and being thankful when people have reacted to how we feel, what we say, don't you think. Sending you sunny thoughts and sunlit hope.

[willweb]

Your wonderful poem speaks a sad truth. So many people feel this way, they just go to work and go home, that is their existence. It is so sad, and I wonder why sometimes. Has someone belittled them in the past and they can't see just how special they are. Nicely expressed.

[Nick Warwick]

Yes, I related to Fabian's phrase "walking emotional dead", since an immediate impression that arose just withing the first verse was of The Dead -- literally those who have passed away -- who are imagined to still walk among us. This trope appears in some piece of fiction I read decades ago -- Camus? Sartre? Can't recall. But it's an intriguing way of perceiving those who are still alive, but feel outside everything and unable to get in, and how such an existence does have a "What's the point, I might as well be dead" feel to it. How they are invisible to us cognitively, even though perceivable with our senses. Also how although the attention is easily fixed on lonely individuals, of more relevance perhaps is the society which plays its part in allowing such lostness to arise. And that society which looks so enviably cosy when outside it probably harbours many equally lonely souls who are just adept at hiding in plain sight. As for the second stanza: I've stumbled across several instances of words which undergo a startling change of meaning with the addition or subtraction of one letter. This is a new, rather delicious one. The richness of this poem is in the endless reflection and debate it potentially stimulates, in ways we can all relate to.

[Fabian G. Franklin]

The sun changes but its light is relatively constant. The things that create shadow, however, are myriad and there are 'so' many shades of night. This was eloquent and beautiful in a fragile sort of way. But the harshness of the world creates both monsters and heroes. We tend to see the monsters in the news more often. I was drawn by the title and enjoyed the entirety. It reminded me of a line from Walden by Thoreau, " The mass of men lead lives of quiet desperation". These are the "survivors" existing but not really living; a sort of walking emotional dead. The average person may not experience or contemplate either terror or joyous ecstasy very often but "Observation is the realm of genius." Thank you for sharing this literary portrait of "The Lonely".

[Mk.t.g]

Wonderfully composed, Leigh!

[Isimbabi]

We are loners in the presence of company. It's sad how we all want camaraderie but are unwilling to make the effort. We'd rather pray that a miracle friend finds us even as the friend prays we find them.
Nice poem Leigh
- I

[Krizito]

This is BEAUTIFUL, and I don't mean it in a patronising.
Half the time your poem best describes me, except with a good ending. Loneliness isn't ever a bad thing, it taught me to be me - if that even makes sense.
And no one ever is lonely - not forever, we've all got 'us' to keep us company. And good memories too. Everyone's got some, no matter how modest we try to be.
Really beautiful piece - and that ending:
Hope the blessings never leaves us, and I don't want to know why..

[Chris Shaw]

I think we have lost the art of conversation. Daily chit chat. Sometimes when I walk down my road and say good morning or hi, strangers look at me as though I'm unhinged. Your poem made me think of Eleanor Rigby, that wonderful song by the Beatles. I enjoyed this composition and the way you expressed yourself. Thank you.

[.]

This poem is so right in the world we live in. Nice poem!