A poem about solitude and the night by David Tombale: Awake

Awake is about being alone at such a time when every sound and every sight seems to be meant only for you.

Awake

Some nights the shadows drift like

ships around the harbor of my room

and I alone am there to watch them sail,

when the stars flare like fireflies

bobbing in a glass jar of blue-black

skies I alone am there to watch them

flash.

This house is restless with the

sound of mouse paws and the little

clicks of cockroach feet and I alone

am there to hear them.

All night I sit beside her in a wicker chair

and listen to her breathe,

softly like summer winds that brush

across the grass.

I alone am there to watch her sleep as the

daylight begins to steal across the floor,

peeking past the blinds to shine a light upon

her smiling in her dreams and

I alone am awake to welcome Him

into this house.

A poem about solitude and contemplation by David Tombale: In my house

In my house is about solitude and the thoughts that can run through your mind when you open yourself up to them.

In my house

Sometimes I sink my nose into the pillows

and smell the fragrance of my cologne,

I spread a blanket beneath the window and

lay my head against the sill and imagine

the glow of moonlight around my fingers

as if I could bathe in it, infuse my thoughts

with silver dreams that I might share with

angels that flock around the winds of heaven.

Some days I sit alone inside my room and just

listen to it breathe and imagine the carpet

is like the lining of my tongue and this whole

house always yearns to speak to me.

A poem about solitude by David Tombale: Counting the hours

There comes a time even after moving on, in that break between losing a past lover and finding a new one when certain thoughts become really loud and there's no one around to stop them. That's really all that this piece is, a story of solitude.
Counting the hours

 Dear Lori

There were no tears left to cry,
no songs

Somewhere a moment passed
and disappeared “so long”

In careful study just her and I
young and grasping,
laughing and raging
like a wildfire,
like summer storms

But in tears and agony
even our love was gone

First I then she,
with him,
with her
until these walls could hold no more
but I remain still missing her
counting sorrow with the evening hours
when the spotlight dims and
I’m alone.