Lonely is a place

Lonely is a place

Postby Foxie's Mum » November 4th, 2017, 1:40 pm

Lonely is a place
It has hills and valleys , streets and lanes
It has buildings and houses with grey window panes
It has people , lots of them , moving around
But they do not speak to you , nor yet make a sound

Lonely is a place
You live there and , move there and pass your time
You do daily tasks with no reason or rhyme
The point of existing eludes your mind
and pleasure is something so hard to find

Lonely is a place
You move through it slowly not leaving a mark
and thoughts that you think are both wistful and dark
No light ever enters to brighten your days
and a thick , heavy blanket all over you lays

Lonely is a place
No chatting or laughing , no friends or relations
No thing to look forward to causing elation
Just hour after hour of cold isolation
and longing for some kind of sweet approbation

Lonely is a place
How long will I live here all alone ?
and stay living depressed right through to the bone ?
Will someone please save me from this deafening quiet
and wake up my life with colour and riot

Lonely is a place
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Re: Lonely is a place

Postby Redpig59 » November 4th, 2017, 2:52 pm

Ooh, that's sad
There was a young Scots bloke called Piglet
Who walked round his house in his singlet
When his eyes fell on Poods
His thoughts turned quite lewd
Now the clothing he likes are her fishnets
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Re: Lonely is a place

Postby Foxie's Mum » November 4th, 2017, 7:24 pm

Yes , is'nt it melancholy
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Re: Lonely is a place

Postby Foxie's Mum » June 13th, 2018, 1:01 am

I remember sitting with my grandfather"Tad"
a big man, strong but kind and fair
Shoulders broad, arms thick, gnarled hands he had
pitted with blue scars from the coal he had to bear
A strong open face , and silver white hair
A coal miner all his life he was
his boyhood taken , free time rare
but never a complaint from him because
he was a man at twelve and made money to share
for them at home , "mam" and the littles
who`s bellies need filling and backs need cloth
and his pittance brings in the vittles
s he faces the darkness` wrath
We sit before a fire , blazing up the flue
While he tells me stories , and I listen wrapped
of songs he sang in the dark and of people he knew all the while knowing , he was trapped
as long as his family needed food
and his wage was important , and so was the house
He did his bit for the growing brood
though poorer they were than the little church mouse
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