Alone

[Eric]

Post your favorite poems. and… Go!

 

Alone - Edgar Allan Poe

From childhood’s hour I have not been 

As others were—I have not seen 

As others saw—I could not bring 

My passions from a common spring— 

From the same source I have not taken 

My sorrow—I could not awaken 

My heart to joy at the same tone— 

And all I lov’d—I lov’d alone— 

Then—in my childhood—in the dawn 

Of a most stormy life—was drawn 

From ev’ry depth of good and ill 

The mystery which binds me still— 

From the torrent, or the fountain— 

From the red cliff of the mountain— 

From the sun that ’round me roll’d 

In its autumn tint of gold— 

From the lightning in the sky 

As it pass’d me flying by— 

From the thunder, and the storm— 

And the cloud that took the form 

(When the rest of Heaven was blue) 

Of a demon in my view—

[Eric]

An Irish Airman Foresees His Death - William Butler Yeats

 

I know that I shall meet my fate 

Somewhere among the clouds above; 

Those that I fight I do not hate, 

Those that I guard I do not love; 

My country is Kiltartan Cross, 

My countrymen Kiltartan’s poor, 

No likely end could bring them loss 

Or leave them happier than before. 

Nor law, nor duty bade me fight, 

Nor public men, nor cheering crowds, 

A lonely impulse of delight 

Drove to this tumult in the clouds; 

I balanced all, brought all to mind, 

The years to come seemed waste of breath, 

A waste of breath the years behind 

In balance with this life, this death.

[Eric]

In The Desert - Stephen Crane

In the desert 

I saw a creature, naked, bestial, 

Who, squatting upon the ground, 

Held his heart in his hands, 

And ate of it. 

I said, “Is it good, friend?” 

“It is bitter—bitter,” he answered; 

 

“But I like it 

“Because it is bitter, 

“And because it is my heart.”

[Eric]

Stopping By Woods on a Snowy Evening - Robert Frost

Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.

My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.

He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound's the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.

The woods are lovely, dark and deep.
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.

[railfancwb]

 

                       “Alone Again (Naturally)"
 

In a little while from now
If I'm not feeling any less sour
I promise myself to treat myself
And visit a nearby tower

And climbing to the top
Will throw myself off
In an effort to make clear to whomever
What it's like when you're shattered

Left standing in the lurch 
At a church where people saying 
My God, that's tough, she stood him up
No point in us remaining 

We may as well go home
As I did on my own
Alone again, naturally

To think that only yesterday
I was cheerful, bright and gay
Looking forward to, well, who wouldn't do
The role I was about to play

But as if to knock me down
Reality came around
And without so much as a mere touch
Cut me into little pieces

Leaving me to doubt
Talk about God in His mercy
Who, if He really does exist
Why did He desert me?

And in my hour of need
I truly am, indeed
Alone again, naturally

It seems to me that there are more hearts
Broken in the world that can't be mended
Left unattended
What do we do?
What do we do?

Alone again, naturally

Now, looking back over the years
And whatever else that appears
I remember I cried when my father died
Never wishing to hide the tears

And at sixty-five years old
My mother, God rest her soul
Couldn't understand why the only man
She had ever loved had been taken

Leaving her to start
With a heart so badly broken
Despite encouragement from me
No words were ever spoken

And when she passed away
I cried and cried all day
Alone again, naturally 
Alone again, naturally

 

[Huaco Kid]

When I die,  I hope I go to Heaven.

But I don't know if they let cowboys in.

[railfancwb]

Will Rogers and others have famously said “If my dogs [or cats] don’t go to heaven I want to go where they go.” No doubt equally true for horse people and their horses. 

[Huaco Kid]

I couldn't tell if the bells were getting louder
The songs they ring I finally recognize
I only know that Hell is getting hotter
The Devil's getting smarter all the time
And it would be nice to walk upon the water
To talk again to angels on my side

[Huaco Kid]

"How did he die?"

"The way I hope I do."

[railfancwb]

 

“We All Sleep Alone" a hit for Cher
 

Somebody, somewhere turns off the lights
Somebody all alone faces the night
You got to be strong when you're out on your own
'Cause sooner or later we all sleep alone

Nobody, nowhere holds the key to your heart
When love's a possession, it'll tear you apart
You may have lovers wherever you roam
But sooner or later, oh, we all sleep alone

Oh, the young and the young at heart waits
But the wait never ends in the soul
When you feel like it's all blown away
Independence has come and into the night I go

Don't make no promises that I can't keep
I won't be no prisoner of somebody's needs
You may have lovers wherever you roam
But sooner or later, ooh, we all sleep alone

Ooh, we all sleep alone
Yeah, yeah, we all sleep alone, yeah
And I know, and I know how you feel
What you're thinkin', what you're saying to me
'Cause we all sleep alone, yes, we all sleep alone

 

[janice6]

On 12/31/2022 at 6:03 AM, railfancwb said:

 

                       “Alone Again (Naturally)"
 

In a little while from now
If I'm not feeling any less sour
I promise myself to treat myself
And visit a nearby tower

And climbing to the top
Will throw myself off
In an effort to make clear to whomever
What it's like when you're shattered

Left standing in the lurch 
At a church where people saying 
My God, that's tough, she stood him up
No point in us remaining 

We may as well go home
As I did on my own
Alone again, naturally

To think that only yesterday
I was cheerful, bright and gay
Looking forward to, well, who wouldn't do
The role I was about to play

But as if to knock me down
Reality came around
And without so much as a mere touch
Cut me into little pieces

Leaving me to doubt
Talk about God in His mercy
Who, if He really does exist
Why did He desert me?

And in my hour of need
I truly am, indeed
Alone again, naturally

It seems to me that there are more hearts
Broken in the world that can't be mended
Left unattended
What do we do?
What do we do?

Alone again, naturally

Now, looking back over the years
And whatever else that appears
I remember I cried when my father died
Never wishing to hide the tears

And at sixty-five years old
My mother, God rest her soul
Couldn't understand why the only man
She had ever loved had been taken

Leaving her to start
With a heart so badly broken
Despite encouragement from me
No words were ever spoken

And when she passed away
I cried and cried all day
Alone again, naturally 
Alone again, naturally

 

She's a missionary for loneliness.  Happens when you don't know what's important in life.  

[Wyzz Kydd]

Ticking away the moments that make up a dull day
Fritter and waste the hours in an offhand way
Kicking around on a piece of ground in your hometown
Waiting for someone or something to show you the way

Tired of lying in the sunshine, staying home to watch the rain
You are young and life is long, and there is time to kill today
And then one day you find ten years have got behind you
No one told you when to run, you missed the starting gun

And you run, and you run to catch up with the sun but it's sinking
Racing around to come up behind you again
The sun is the same in a relative way but you're older
Shorter of breath and one day closer to death

Every year is getting shorter, never seem to find the time
Plans that either come to naught or half a page of scribbled lines
Hanging on in quiet desperation is the English way
The time is gone, the song is over, thought I'd something more to say

Home, home again
I like to be here when I can
And when I come home cold and tired
It's good to warm my bones beside the fire

Far away across the field
The tolling of the iron bell
Calls the faithful to their knees
To hear the softly spoken magic spells

[Paul53]

[railfancwb]

Same Old Lang Syne

Dan Fogelberg

EXPLICIT

Met my old lover in the grocery store 
The snow was falling Christmas Eve 
I stole behind her in the frozen foods 
And I touched her on the sleeve

She didn't recognize the face at first 
But then her eyes flew open wide 
She went to hug me, and she spilled her purse 
And we laughed until we cried

We took her groceries to the checkout stand 
The food was totaled up and bagged 
We stood there lost in our embarrassment 
As the conversation dragged

Went to have ourselves a drink or two 
But couldn't find an open bar 
We bought a six-pack at the liquor store 
And we drank it in her car

We drank a toast to innocence 
We drank a toast to now 
And tried to reach beyond the emptiness 
But neither one knew how

She said she'd married her an architect 
Who kept her warm and safe and dry 
She would've liked to say she loved the man 
But she didn't like to lie

I said the years had been a friend to her 
And that her eyes were still as blue 
But in those eyes, I wasn't sure if I 
Saw doubt or gratitude

She said she saw me in the record stores 
And that I must be doing well 
I said, "The audience was heavenly 
But the traveling was hell"

We drank a toast to innocence 
We drank a toast to now 
And tried to reach beyond the emptiness 
But neither one knew how

We drank a toast to innocence 
We drank a toast to time 
Reliving in our eloquence 
Another auld lang syne

The beer was empty, and our tongues were tired 
And running out of things to say 
She gave a kiss to me as I got out 
And I watched her drive away

Just for a moment, I was back at school 
And felt that old familiar pain 
And as I turned to make my way back home 
The snow turned into rain

[railfancwb]

Is this about “Alone”? Maybe, maybe not.

Old Lang Syne - welcoming the New Year closing the old

Should old acquaintance be forgot
and never brought to mind?
Should old acquaintance be forgot
and old lang syne?

[Chorus - this part repeats after every verse]
For auld lang syne, my dear
for auld lang syne
we'll take a cup of kindness yet
for auld lang syne.

And surely you'll buy your pint cup
and surely I'll buy mine
And we'll take a cup o' kindness yet
for auld lang syne.

We two have run about the slopes
and picked the daisies fine;
But we've wandered many a weary foot
since auld lang syne.

We two have paddled in the stream
from morning sun till dine
But seas between us broad have roared
since auld lang syne.

And there's a hand my trusty friend
And give me a hand o' thine
And we'll take a right goodwill draught
for auld lang syne
 

[railfancwb]

Or maybe this is about “Alone”…

Those Were the Days

Mary Hopkin

Once upon a time there was a tavern 
Where we used to raise a glass or two 
Remember how we laughed away the hours 
Think of all the great things we would do

Those were the days, my friend 
We thought they'd never end 
We'd sing and dance forever and a day 
We'd live the life we choose we'd fight and never lose 
For we were young and sure to have our way

Then the busy years went rushing by us 
We lost our starry notions on the way 
If by chance I'd see you in the tavern 
We'd smile at one another and we'd say

Those were the days, my friend 
We thought they'd never end 
We'd sing and dance forever and a day 
We'd live the life we choose we'd fight and never lose 
Those were the days 
Oh yes, those were the days

Just tonight I stood before the tavern 
Nothing seemed the way it used to be 
In the glass I saw a strange reflection 
Was that lonely woman really me?

Those were the days, my friend 
We thought they'd never end 
We'd sing and dance forever and a day 
We'd live the life we choose we'd fight and never lose 
Those were the days, oh yes, those were the days

Through the door there came familiar laughter 
I saw your face and heard you call my name 
Oh my friend we're older but no wiser

[Eric]

Walking in the silence
The silence in my heart, it seems
I've walked these roads forever
Feel the silence scream

Echoes in the dusty halls
Tainted rooms
And musty walls
Echoes in my mind and heart
I've seen the silence cry

Walking in the morning rain
I hear a desperate cry
The struggle of a tired soul
To give silent reply

Searching darkness
For a gate
To find relief
It's not to late
 To seek a passage
To a fate
Where pain will cry no more ... Eric Powell

[El Spicoli]

All by myself, don't wanna be all by myself anymore. I am gonna be dancing with myself, oh woh dancing with myself, as I am sleeping single in a double bed. 

 

[gwalchmai]

I'm often alone, but rarely lonely. 

[Prescott]

The Skater of Ghost Lake by William Rose Benet 

Ghost Lake's a dark lake, a deep lake and cold:
Ice black as ebony, frostily scrolled;
Far in its shadows a faint sound whirs;
Steep stand the sentineled deep, dark firs.
A brisk sound, a swift sound, a ring-tinkle-ring; 
Flit-flit,--a shadow with a stoop and a swing,
Flies from the shadow through the crackling cold. 
Ghost Lake's a deep lake, a dark lake and old! 
Leaning and leaning with a stride and a stride, 
hands locked behind him, scarf blowing wide, 
Jeremy Randall skates, skates late, 
Star for a candle, moon for a mate. 
Black is the clear glass now that he glides, 
Crisp is the whisper of long lean strides, 
Swift is his swaying - but pricked ears hark. 
None comes to Ghost Lake late after dark! 
Cecily only--yes it is she!
Stealing to Ghost Lake, tree after tree,
Kneeling in snow by the still lake side,
Rising with feet winged, gleaming, to glide.
Dust of the ice swirls. Here is his hand.
Brilliant his eyes burn. Now, as was planned,
Arm across arm twined, laced to his side,
Out on the dark lake lightly they glide.
Dance of the dim moon, a rhythmical reel,
A swaying, a swift tune--skurr of the steel;
Moon for a candle, maid for a mate,
Jeremy Randall skates, skates late.
Black as if lacquered the wide lake lies;
Breath as a frost-fume, eyes seek eyes;
Souls are a sword edge tasting the cold. 
Ghost Lake's a deep lake, a dark lake and old!F

Far in the shadows hear faintly begin 

Like a string pluck-plucked of a violin,
Muffled in mist on the lake's far bound, 
Swifter and swifter, a low singing sound! 
Far in the shadows and faint on the verge
Of blue cloudy moonlight, see it emerge,
Flit-flit,--a phantom, with a stoop and a swing . . .
Ah, it's a night bird burdened of wing!
Pressed close to Jeremy, laced to his side,
Cecily Culver, dizzy you glide.
Jeremy Randall sweepingly veers
Out on the dark ice far from the piers. 
"Jeremy!" "Sweetheart?" "What do you fear?"
"Nothing my darling,--nothing is here!"
"Jeremy!" "Sweetheart?" "What do you flee?" 
"Something--I know not; something I see!" 
Swayed to a swift stride, brisker of pace,
Leaning and leaning, they race and they race;
Ever that whirring, that crisp sound thin 
Like a string pluck-plucked of a violin; 
Ever that swifter and low singing sound 
Sweeping behind them, winding them round;
Gasp of their breath now that chill flakes fret; 
Ice black as ebony--blacker--like jet!
Ice shooting fangs forth--sudden--like spears;
Crackling of lightning--a roar in their ears!
Shadowy, a phantom swerves off its prey . . . 
No, it's a night bird flit-flits away!
Low-winging moth-owl, home to your sleep!
Ghost Lake's a still lake, a cold lake and deep. 
Faint in its shadows a far sound whirs. 
Black stand the ranks of its sentineled firs.

[Eric]

My father's brother Jack wrote back in the early fifties, when he was very young.

MOONSHINE WHISKEY

Moonshine whiskey makes me frisky
Makes me feel so gay
Makes the teachers and the preachers
Walk the other way

Sheriffs, jurors, revenooers
They try to find my stills
Hawk this mornin called a warning
now I'm in the hills

Should they find me here and bind me
And haul me down to jail
I'll never budge til the circuit judge
Takes whiskey as my bail.

Now I'll walk along and sing this song
And if I can hold my luck
Til judgement day my price will stay
A gallon fur a buck......... Jack Powell

 

The picture below is uncle Jack a few years later, after he became a deputy sheriff. He was a lawman most of his life. He died of a heart attack while on the job, back in 2003.

 

[janice6]

Regarding the previous post of: The Skater of Ghost Lake by William Rose Benet 

It reminded me of long ago:

As a kid I was a figure skater in the local skating club, my mother was the costume designer.  I primarily skated waltz numbers with the girls in the club at the show around the state - one girl at a time of course.

I commented on it before, when the girls mothers used to come to me and tell me to hold their daughters tighter and place my hands where they made the girl "look better".  Which, of course, I did.  I was amazed that my buddies would always ask me to play Hockey with them when I could (at my age) skate to a dance number with a warm, soft, sweet smelling, girl, tight in my arms, that had no limits as to where I put my hands.

Anyway, there were many nights at the local rink - It was a small lake smack dab in the middle of town and 8 blocks from my home.  It had a nice warming house and the city had flood lights on 1/3 of it.  They even had a plow dedicated to shaving/plowing the ice to make it very smooth and they would fill cracks with water every day.

Late at night I would skate alone in the dark parts of the lake trying to see how fast and far I could jump while practicing my skating.

I remember a number of times in the dark when I came down from the jump awkwardly and spend a few minutes lying on my back wondering how long I had laid there.  Sometimes sliding that way for quite a distance.  The sky was black, the moon was bright, the stars were out and it was almost a surreal experience.

[janice6]

2 minutes ago, janice6 said:

Regarding the previous post of: The Skater of Ghost Lake by William Rose Benet 

It reminded me of long ago:

As a kid I was a figure skater in the local skating club, my mother was the costume designer.  I primarily skated waltz numbers with the girls in the club at the show around the state - one girl at a time of course.

I commented on it before, when the girls mothers used to come to me and tell me to hold their daughters tighter and place my hands where they made the girl "look better".  Which, of course, I did.  I was amazed that my buddies would always ask me to play Hockey with them when I could (at my age) skate to a dance number with a warm, soft, sweet smelling, girl, tight in my arms, that had no limits as to where I put my hands.

Anyway, there were many nights at the local rink - It was a small lake smack dab in the middle of town and 8 blocks from my home.  It had a nice warming house and the city had flood lights on 1/3 of it.  They even had a plow dedicated to shaving/plowing the ice to make it very smooth and they would fill cracks with water every day.

Late at night I would skate alone in the dark parts of the lake trying to see how fast and far I could jump while practicing my skating.

I remember a number of times in the dark when I came down from the jump awkwardly and spend a few minutes lying on my back wondering how long I had laid there.  Sometimes sliding that way for quite a distance.  The sky was black, the moon was bright, the stars were out and it was almost a surreal experience.

The best thing that came out of my experience figure skating was that I learned how to fall to minimize my injuries.  It was necessary with the jumps and high speeds.  I found this out having fallen in the tub and on ice in my driveway.

[holyjohnson]

If you can keep your head when all about you
   Are losing theirs and blaming it on you;
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
   But make allowance for their doubting too;
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
   Or, being lied about, don’t deal in lies,
Or, being hated, don’t give way to hating,
   And yet don’t look too good, nor talk too wise;

If you can dream—and not make dreams your master;
   If you can think—and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with triumph and disaster
   And treat those two impostors just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you’ve spoken
   Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to broken,
   And stoop and build ’em up with wornout tools;

If you can make one heap of all your winnings
   And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
   And never breathe a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
   To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
   Except the Will which says to them: “Hold on”;

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
   Or walk with kings—nor lose the common touch;
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you;
   If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds’ worth of distance run—
   Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it,
And—which is more—you’ll be a Man, my son!

 

 

[holyjohnson]

There's a race of men that don't fit in,
A race that can't stay still;
So they break the hearts of kith and kin,
And they roam the world at will.
They range the field and they rove the flood,
And they climb the mountain's crest;
Theirs is the curse of the gypsy blood,
And they don't know how to rest.

If they just went straight they might go far;
They are strong and brave and true;
But they're always tired of the things that are,
And they want the strange and new.
They say: "Could I find my proper groove,
What a deep mark I would make!"
So they chop and change, and each fresh move
Is only a fresh mistake.

And each forgets, as he strips and runs
With a brilliant, fitful pace,
It's the steady, quiet, plodding ones
Who win in the lifelong race.
And each forgets that his youth has fled,
Forgets that his prime is past,
Till he stands one day, with a hope that's dead,
In the glare of the truth at last.

He has failed, he has failed; he has missed his chance;
He has just done things by half.
Life's been a jolly good joke on him,
And now is the time to laugh.
Ha, ha! He is one of the Legion Lost;
He was never meant to win;
He's a rolling stone, and it's bred in the bone;
He's a man who won't fit in.

Robert Service.