Tag Archives: loneliness

dark

it’s dark on the hill

even though city lights peel away secrets

below where I stand lonely

listening to urban din hammered into songs

remembering to look up

scanning for planes diving across memories

picking out constellations as cop cars provide the horns

I remember that insectalien rising out of the floor

planetarium lights dimming

a sonorous sky guide

and highbacked reclining chairs

modern as open the pod bay doors, Hal

open the pod bay doors

remembering to look down

looking for secrets in polished glass

burnished metal and an artillery of light bulbs

now its dark

now there is no up

now the past is the hunter

on the hill in the dark

remembering the loneliness

there is between each of us

 

 

David Trudel           © 2015

 

 

 

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Untethered

This fractured heart is unbound

By tangled strings

Not tethered to another set of eyes

Reflecting a shimmer of tears

Unable to look away

Even as love is strangled by its own bonds

Relentlessly

Moments come and go unexpectedly

Uncharted

Echoes of improvisational adaptation

Against the dissonance of solitude

Rising like a three a.m. riff at Birdland

Into a time when dawn seems impossible

To remember

Against the black of lonely

Where a curl of smoke is light enough

To provide a contrast

To emptiness

 

 

David Trudel    ©  2013

 

 

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Solo Christmas

This is for the homes of the alones

The lost and lonely and bereft

Still mourning in their Sunday best

Or lounging in their worst attire

Whatever

Details aren’t as important as simply being solo

Hermits and rustics

The quirky and the mean

Fearful or fearsome

Many paths lead to this singularity

Homes where festive décor becomes a minimalist vestige

And the former glory remains in boxes in the dark

In the homes of the alones

Christmas creeps in and out of view

Never quite hitting the high notes

Or shining as brightly as those lost years

When doors banged and music poured down the stairs

Into a swirl of anticipatory frenzy

Lives twirling in choreographed ritual

So that each golden moment glowed with the magic collectively conjured

Not like now

When there is no more Christmas morning creep

When the few gifts under the miniature tree

Hold no mystery

And no matter where you go for Christmas Dinner

The silence of the morning

Flattens the rest of the day

 

David Trudel  © 2012

 

 

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Monk

In my solitary singularity

I am like a monk but my church

Is deconstructed

Its liturgy is limitless and lost

I follow no one

In my solitary singularity

Hermitlike, I inhabit my cave

Having one sided conversations with truth

Never winning arguments with silence

It’s ideal

But lonely

In my solitary singularity

 

David Trudel   ©  2012

 

 

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