Isle of Solitude

I’ve been here a long, long time,

Self-consciousness being my crime.

My punishment – being detained in this place,

And being excluded from the human race.

Why so sad?

We live in a world where many are sad,

Where one man’s misery makes another glad,

Where one man’s triumph makes another mad,

Where we despise those who have what we never had,

Where we look for reasons to label another as bad,

Where strangers offer more comfort than mom or dad,

And where our kin’s discontent is ironclad,

Are those the reasons we are so sad?


Something in Common?

We are as different as the sea is to land,

You exude life, where I’m mostly bland,

You light up a room, when I keep it dark,

You’re that burst of energy, that spark,

That dose of colour that makes folks smile,

You are missed, even if you’re only gone for a while.

But for some reason our lives overlap,

There appears to be a bridge for the gap,

That separates your vivid from my grey,

It gives me hope, but I didn’t want it this way.

You’re sad and alone, just like me,

But fear not, your gloom is only temporary. 



The Other Side

“What’s on the other side?”

“What experiences await, across the divide?”

Asks the man who’s been trapped inside.

For many years he’s done nothing but hide,

Left alone, with no other to confide,

His mind as constricted as the sky is wide.

“What’s on the other side?”

“Is there more across the divide?”

He asks.

And within, his emotions collide,

‘Should I yearn for freedom, or my loneliness abide?’

‘Should I try to escape, or swallow my pride?’

‘Will I ever be released, or will I be denied?’

He ponders.

As his dreams are pulled from side to side,

He’s hopeful at first, but it soon subsides,

And he accepts that he is caught between the divide,

But it doesn’t stop him from wondering,

If the grass is greener on the other side.















Absence makes the heart grow fonder,

But it also makes the longing stronger,

Of you,

And it also makes it easier to wonder,

Of you,

As it brings the mirage yonder,

Of you,

And forces me to ponder,

Of you,

And ask of me:

‘Should I dream like this, any longer?’