Loneliness

'Won't you come and see

loneliness? Just one leaf

from the kiri tree.''

Basho

The Long Way Home

Well I stumbled in the darkness

I'm lost and alone

Though I said I'd go before us

And show the way back home

There a light up ahead

I can't hold onto her arm

Forgive me pretty baby but I always take the long way home

Money's just something you throw

Off the back of a train

Got a head full of lightning

A hat full of rain

And I know that I said

I'd never do it again

And I love you pretty baby but I always take the long way home

I put food on the table

And roof overhead

But I'd trade it all tomorrow

For the highway instead

Watch your back if I should tell you

Love's the only thing I've ever known

One thing for sure pretty baby I always take the long way home

You know I love you baby

More than the whole wide world

You are my woman

I know you are my pearl

Let's go out past the party lights

Where we can finally be alone

Come with me and we can take the long way home

Come with me, together we can take the long way home

Come with me, together we can take the long way home

Swan Heart

All those beautiful people
I want to have them
I want to have them all
All those porcelain models
If only I could make them fall

Be my heart a well of love
Flowing free so far above

A wintry eve
Once upon a tale
An Ugly Duckling
Lost in a verse
Of a sparrows carol
Dreaming the stars

Be my heart a well of love
Flowing free so far above

In my world
Love is for poets
Never the famous balcony scene
Just a dying faith
On the heaven's gate

Crystal pond awaits the lorn
Tonight another morn for the lonely one is born

Lyrics of the beautiful song "Swanheart" by Nightwish

Sailing

Dedicated to Roland

"I can close my eyes and picture myself on the deck of a sailboat, with no noise except that of the wind on the sails, the splash of the waves and the smell of the sea air. That is almost Heaven for me."

Roland Pozo

It's not far down to paradise
At least it's not for me
And if the wind is right you can sail away
And find tranquility
The canvas can do miracles
Just you wait and see
Believe me

It's not far to never never land
No reason to pretend
And if the wind is right you can find the joy
Of innocence again
The canvas can do miracles
Just you wait and see
Believe me


Sailing
Takes me away
To where I've always heard it could be
Just a dream and the wind to carry me
And soon I will be free


Fantasy
It gets the best of me
When I'm sailing
All caught up in the reverie
Every word is a symphony
Won't you believe me


It's not far back to sanity
At least it's not for me
And when the wind is right you can sail away
And find serenity
The canvas can do miracles
Just you wait and see
Believe me

Christopher Cross

Haiku my heart: Lamentations of an airport

I'm an airport

Everybody comes and goes through me

yet - nobody stays

Riette 03 Dec 2010

Ghost house - Robert Frost

Image: Michael Otto

I dwell in a lonely house I know
That vanished many a summer ago,
And left no trace but the cellar walls,
And a cellar in which the daylight falls,
And the purple-stemmed wild raspberries grow.

O'er ruined fences the grape-vines shield
The woods come back to the mowing field;
The orchard tree has grown one copse
Of new wood and old where the woodpecker chops;
The footpath down to the well is healed.

I dwell with a strangely aching heart
In that vanished abode there far apart
On that disused and forgotten road
That has no dust-bath now for the toad.
Night comes; the black bats tumble and dart;

The whippoorwill is coming to shout
And hush and cluck and flutter about:
I hear him begin far enough away
Full many a time to say his say
Before he arrives to say it out.

It is under the small, dim, summer star.
I know not who these mute folk are
Who share the unlit place with me--
Those stones out under the low-limbed tree
Doubtless bear names that the mosses mar.

They are tireless folk, but slow and sad,
Though two, close-keeping, are lass and lad,--
With none among them that ever sings,
And yet, in view of how many things,
As sweet companions as might be had.
Robert Frost 

The Man With The Blue Guitar

When I close my eyes, I can see the wise old man living in this house . . .sitting on the veranda . .on a green day . .. with his blue guitar

Photo by Roland Pozo

The man bent over his guitar,
A shearsman of sorts. The day was green.

They said, “You have a blue guitar,
You do not play things as they are.”

The man replied, “Things as they are
Are changed upon the blue guitar.”

And they said then, “But play, you cant,
A tune beyond us, yet ourselves,

A tune upon the blue guitar
Of things exactly as they are.”

Wallace Stevens

Music . . .. .

Music was my refuge.

I could crawl into the space

between the notes 

and curl my back

to loneliness.

Maya Angelou 

Streets of London

Have you seen the old man In the closed-down market Kicking up the paper, with his worn out shoes? In his eyes you see no pride Hands held loosely at his side Yesterday's paper telling yesterday's news




So how can you tell me that you're lonely,
say for you that the sun don't shine and
Let me take you by the hand and lead you through the streets of London
I'll show you something to make you change your mind






Have you seen the old girl
Who walks the streets of London
Dirt in her hair and her clothes in rags?
She's no time for talking,
She just keeps right on walking
Carrying her home in two carrier bags.






So how can you tell me that you're lonely,
say for you that the sun don't shine and
Let me take you by the hand and lead you through the streets of London
I'll show you something to make you change your mind

In the all night cafe
At a quarter past eleven,
Same old man is sitting there on his own
Looking at the world
Over the rim of his tea-cup,
Each tea last an hour
Then he wanders home alone

So how can you tell me that you're lonely,
say for you that the sun don't shine and
Let me take you by the hand and lead you through the streets of London
I'll show you something to make you change your mind



And have you seen the old man
Outside the seaman's mission
Memory fading with
The medal ribbons that he wears.
In our winter city,
The rain cries a little pity
For one more forgotten hero
And a world that doesn't care

So how can you tell me that you're lonely,
say for you that the sun don't shine and
Let me take you by the hand lead you through the streets of London
I'll show you something to make you change your mind

The beautiful, but sad song . . . "Streets of London"

Liquorish

the night

stretches

like liquorish

sweet and dark

with its overwhelming

smell

not quite nice

my head fills

overflows

with contradictions

and good intentions

that spill

on the floor

spreading

before the thought

of you

Peter Hollard

Je hebt me alleen gelaten - You left me alone

je hebt me alleen gelaten
maar ik heb het je allang vergeven

want ik weet dat je nog ergens bent
vannacht nog, toen ik door de stad
dwaalde, zag ik je silhouet in het glas
van een badkamer

en gisteren hoorde ik je in het bos lachen
zie je, ik weet dat je er nog bent

laatst reed je me voorbij met vier
andere mensen in een oude auto
en ofschoon jij de enige was die
niet omkeek, wist ik toch dat jij
de enige was die mij herkende de enige die
zonder mij niet kan leven

en ik heb geglimlacht

ik was zeker dat je me niet verlaten zou
morgen misschien zul je terugkomen
of anders overmorgen of wie weet wel nooit

maar je kunt me niet verlaten


Hans Lodeizen (1924-1950)

The original words of the following Afrikaans song was written by Hans Lodezein . . . . . ..


"Onthou jy nog?"
"Do you still remember?"

“Ain’t got nobody in all this world,"

Photo by Malubs

The Weary Blues

by Langston Hughes

Droning a drowsy syncopated tune,

Rocking back and forth to a mellow croon,

I heard a Negro play.

Down on Lenox Avenue the other night

By the pale dull pallor of an old gas light

He did a lazy sway. . . .

He did a lazy sway. . . .

To the tune o’ those Weary Blues.

With his ebony hands on each ivory key

He made that poor piano moan with melody.

O Blues!

Swaying to and fro on his rickety stool

He played that sad raggy tune like a musical fool.

Sweet Blues!

Coming from a black man’s soul.

O Blues!

In a deep song voice with a melancholy tone

I heard that Negro sing, that old piano moan—

“Ain’t got nobody in all this world,

Ain’t got nobody but ma self.

I’s gwine to quit ma frownin’

And put ma troubles on the shelf.”

Thump, thump, thump, went his foot on the floor.

He played a few chords then he sang some more—

“I got the Weary Blues

And I can’t be satisfied.

Got the Weary Blues

And can’t be satisfied—

I ain’t happy no mo’

And I wish that I had died.”

And far into the night he crooned that tune.

The stars went out and so did the moon.

The singer stopped playing and went to bed

While the Weary Blues echoed through his head.

He slept like a rock or a man that’s dead.

Death is not the end - Bob Dylan

When you're sad and when you're lonely And you haven't got a friend Just remember that death is not the end And all that you held sacred Falls down and does not mend Just remember that death is not the end Not the end, not the end Just remember that death is not the end When you're standing on the crossroads That you cannot comprehend Just remember that death is not the end And all your dreams have vanished And you don't know what's up the bend Just remember that death is not the end Not the end, not the end Just remember that death is not the end When the storm clouds gather round you And heavy rains descend Just remember that death is not the end And there's no-one there to comfort you With a helping hand to lend Just remember that death is not the end Not the end, not the end Just remember that death is not the end For the tree of life is growing Where the spirit never dies And the bright light of salvation Up in dark and empty skies When the cities are on fire With the burning flesh of men Just remember that death is not the end When you search in vain to find Some law-abiding citizen Just remember that death is not the end Not the end, not the end Just remember that death is not the end Not the end, not the end Just remember that death is not the end

Lone Figure

Lone Figure

Where a lone figure strides
along the wide empty
rim of the sea a gull
holds the sun
like a shell
in its beak
from the sea’s womb
from the tide’s
broken tomb
a hermit crab crawls
into the dropped empty
shell of the sun
and with its huge claw
closes the door.

Written by Charl Cilliers

(Picture by Peter Hollard)

Boer