All The Lonely People: Poems From Around The World Featuring Aaron Cornett.

My poem “sorrow’s calling” is featured this week. Stop by and check it out!

Niamh Clune

This week, I am featuring Aaron Cornett’s lovely poem from the All The Lonely People anthology. I found this so touching. And I love Polly Wood’s beautiful art-work. Many thanks Aaron for your wonderful submission.

 Sorrrow’s calling  By Aaron Cornett

She knew the light.
Her steps knew conviction.
She bore the strange gift
Of solitude, as if knowing
That she was not meant
To last.

I knew her once,
I knew everything about her.
Her vibrant youth and
Her innocent charm,
But not
Her sickness and frailty.

There at the bus stop,
Surrounding by the chilling rain,
I met her gaze as we shared
A painted sidewalk.
Her eyes are deep and
Never ending, her smile
As shadows crept across
Our gentle surroundings.
We shared the conversation
Of strangers and a friendship
Was born.

We enjoyed the times and
Moment life gave us, dancing
Among the poetic ashes

View original post 82 more words

Ghost in the middle


Ghost in the middle


Autumn leaves and a gentle breeze

Bring more than a kind warning

To all who know there is

Nothing worth hiding.


The slave to cruel time,

The child with unwanted burden,

The woman of constant sorrow,

The overseer of the dead and dying,

And the enlightened know this.

Holding their lantern high,

They endlessly search for the

Consuming fire that can light

their steps in the void.


In the quest for something better,

the quest for fulfillment and


We find there are always two paths

Before us, and we must decide

In timeless light.


And there in the middle is

The ghost of chance,

A reminder of the life around us.

Whatever the choice we make,

It is then written in the scars

And is our first goodbye.


Sleeping on the edge of the universe,

We wake gratefully beneath

The unfolding sky,

And watch those who write their truth

while we live ours.


Passing the promise to the children

On this side of the wind,

We give our pain meaning.

And If anything,

We pray for a lesson learned.


Aaron Cornett



Man’s last hour


Asleep in the light, we wake to a

Familiar world with a torn sky.

Our excess is common, our lives

Wasted at the expense of so many.


We are bombarded with information,

None of which we will ever care for.

We are ghosts in restless cities of

Vicious decay and violent ruin.


Our meager prophets continue to lie

With accountability dead and gone

Our fortune and wealth have turned

As we start to reap what we sow


We worship celebrity stupidity

Indifferent to violent images,

Careless about our country,

And shrug off the notion of war


We give in to convenient ideology

And relish our filth and ignorance

Truth and consequence become victims

to accepted political corruption


The vote and voice no longer matter

As victory and power keeps giving us                                                                         

A fetid justice of hell and damnation

With the wild mob mentality.


The constant war, a constant

Political war that must be won

Everyone’s guilty but the wealthy

In the hazy fog of legality.


Our truth is a fading concept

And a myth formed not so long ago.

Our minds are dull and frayed

As we give up fighting human decay


Our existence is chaotic

And madness steals the light.

We continue the poisonous feed

Into our bodies, our minds, our children.


We are sinful, prideful,

Shameful, and lazy.

We are liars, we are guilty,

pathetic and failures.


We are responsible

We are wrong

We are the ones

Riding carelessly towards


The edge of oblivion,

Riding away from the

Senseless killings and

Aborted deaths.


Riding away from the

Dead and dying planet,

Screaming for one last buzz.


Riding away, so far away

From the chaos and confusion

We made.


Riding over the edge,

Falling over the edge,

Giving in to the darkness

Giving in to a quiet inevitability      

Of a silent but violent ending.


Not a bang but a whimper

No fanfare but frustrated sadness

No one left to blame


We hit rock bottom, knowing

We have been dead

for a long time.


Aaron Cornett

Tyranny of Beauty


As the sun falls to the horizon

And the yellow moon begins her

Climb into the long cold night,

I am silently wishing for the same

Tomorrow that I witnessed today

In the fields of fragrant beauty.


Pushed to the edge of my dreams,

I listen to the thin space between

Each breath and every pulse, always

Carrying the burden of distant love

In a lonely place where infinity exists

In all directions but home.


All of my wounds give a gentle ache

As I find the rhythm that moves the soul

And the strings that stir the heart.

Here in this place of stone history

And sculpted brilliance, my desires

Are forfeit to the truth of touch.


Our rare moments of passion become

Sparks of sharp brilliance upon the canvas

Of an unbroken chain of memories.

Our creations become the dreams that

Can never bridge the divide, leaving

Immortality alone with our wishes.


In the end, we discover the frailty of living

And accept what we see in the mirror.

Our creations are brief, like rain drops

Dancing randomly on keys of a glass piano.

Beautiful and elegant, they give a reprieve

From the pain we possess.


Aaron Cornett

The Dreamer’s Journey II: Sacred Beach

I walk the sands of an ancient wish,

Keeping the softness close to my heart

As the salted spray rests gently

Across my body.

I walk in the presence of my God,

My creator, my reason for dreaming.

I walk the steps of Enoch


The countless stars continue

Spinning over me, dancing along

Their ancient and celestial paths.

I feel a deep peace and know

The kind pleasure of acceptance.


I am adrift on the mind’s farthest shore,

A place were time and chance

Have no meaning.

A place were pain and hurt

Have no hold.


The waves are in rhythm with

The quiet echoes of lost loves

And forgotten dreams.

They come to this shore

From a far place of deep solitude

That mirrors the starry void above.


I sit beside a fire that gives

More light than warmth, saying nothing

of my sorrow and fear of standing still.

In a moment I will move on

For I cannot linger  where

The heart stops.


Looking back across the far shoreline,

Back across the many steps taken,

I see the monuments of the

Forgotten and the fallen.

I passed through without notice,

For so many are of my own making.


Looking forward across the other side,

The empty stretch of oblivion waits,

glowing in the moonlight and

tugging at my consciousness.

Soon I will be in harmony

With all things, and I will

Ascend with promise.


            Aaron Cornett

The Dreamer’s Journey

Ethereal rain rests easily on the soul

And flows deeply in the mind,

Releasing all the dust of a material life

As I am given a chance to surrender.

I doubt the truth before me.


I keep to the random order of things

Well hidden, tucked away,

And buried quietly in the shadows

As if keeping a lifetime

Of secret deep under wraps.


In the cloudy haze of a rainy morning,

My dreams are quick and ready.

They hide my senses like a dark coat,

Covering more than a warm body.

I give in completely.


I walk quickly on the edge of destiny,

I dance playfully with eternity’s shadow,

I run joyfully through the winds of time, and

I drift quietly through the starry void.

All this with the weight of prophecy.


Bathed in quiet serenity, I find my

Dreams are fleeting pieces

Of quiet contemplation, and my

Visions are rare moments

Of divine will.


And somewhere my love is calling me,

Giving me a sense of things to come.

But the dull pain of so many lost

Stifle the mind and blind the heart,

Giving me reason to guard my steps

And pray for intervention.


Aaron Cornett