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Odium

The Odium

Dead roses in a vase on my desk I moved
them away and remembered seeing my
brother, through a door ajar, getting up from
his chair, open the drawer where my pipe
collection was, and break them one by one.
A strange smile played upon his lips, and
I said nothing, didn’t know he hated me so.
He was the one with many friends, he was
the one who sat in the middle of the room
telling jokes at my expense while I sought
the corners. When he died, the chapel was
full of his friends the spoke so well of him,
but I sat there dry eyed all I could think of,
was my bloody meerschaum pipes

poem by Oskar Hansen
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Book

Standing at the door, to your room, I lean against the frame,
I am frozen, I whisper your name.
The chair at the desk, where you always sat, to work
is in place, unmoved, in the dark.
I sigh, holding my breathe, I switch on the light
I say your name, adjust my eyes to the sight.
Everything is in its place, unmoved, just waiting
on your return, digital clock on desk blinking
in even rhythm, as time moves on,
unaware, uncaring that you are gone.
on the wall, family pictures of the past
moments in time, captured, held fast.
Afraid to break the silence, to enter the room, I wait
and for a moment I pretend you are just late,
that I will turn as I hear your footsteps on the stair
and see you standing, smiling, blue eyes full of care.
and then, that moment, that hope, has past
one heavy foot forward, I enter the room at last.
An inspiration, to me, to all of us, friends and family
you dealt with your illness, with strength and dignity,
I can still hear your laughter, your silly jokes,
remembering your love for books and gadgets.
reminiscing, I notice on your desk, a book
lying open, page marked, I move to have a look
As I read I start to smile, your last message,
the lyrics from Life of Brian, a circled passage
'Always look on the Bright side of Life'
for my children and my wife.

poem by Julie Duff
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Didnt Know

Didn't know what you had
Until you lost it
Didn't know what you own
Until you got it
Didn't know of your sins
Until you fought it.
Didn't know what you needed
Until you sought it.

Didn't know your lies
Until someone spoke them
Didn't know of the truth
Until someone wrote them
Didn't remembered your dreams
Until someone awoke them
Didn't know they died
Until someone chocked them.

Didn't know you had guilt
Until you cried
Didn't know you felt sadness
Until you tried to hide
Didn't know you felt shame
Until you lied
Didn't know you believed in GOD
Until you asked him why.

Didn't know you felt sorrow
Until you shed a tear
Didn't know that you were scared
Until I saw your fear
Didn't know that you hated
Until you were near
Didn't know that you were unhappy
Until you looked in a mirror.

Didn't know who you truly were
Until your ways you sewed
Didn't know that you were evil
Until the truth was showed
Didn't know you did this before
Until I saw all of your woe
Didn't know who you really were
Though I wished then I did know.

Randy L. McClave

poem by Randy McClave
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A Most Peculiar Man

He was A Most Peculiar Man.
That's what Mrs. Riordan said and she should know;
She lived upstairs from him
She said he was A Most Peculiar Man.
He was A Most Peculiar Man.
The lived all alone within a house,
Within a room, within himself,
A Most Peculiar Man.
He had no friends, he seldom spoke
And no one in turn ever spoke to him,
'Cause he wasn't friendly and he didn't care
And he wasn't like them.
Oh, no! he was A Most Peculiar Man.
He died last Saturday.
He turned on the gas and he went to sleep
With the windows closed so he'd never wake up
To his silent world and his tiny room;
And Mrs. Riordan says he has a brother somewhere
Who should be notified soon.
And all the people said, "What a shame that he's dead,
But wasn't he A Most Peculiar Man?

song performed by by Paul Simon
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Most Peculiar Man

He was a most peculiar man
That's what Mrs. Riordan says and she should know
She lived upstairs from him
She said he was a most peculiar man
He was a most peculiar man
He lived all alone within a house
Within a room, within himself
A most peculiar man
He had no friends, he seldom spoke
And no one in turn ever spoke to him
'Cause he wasn't friendly and he didn't care
And he wasn't like them
Oh no! He was a most peculiar man
He died last Saturday
He turned on the gas and he went to sleep
With the windows closed so he'd never wake up
To his silent world and his tiny room
And Mrs. Riordan says he has a brother somewhere
Who should be notified soon
And all the people said,
"What a shame that he's dead
But wasn't he a most peculiar man?

song performed by by Simon & Garfunkel
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Have Some Friends

I have some friends, some worthy friends,
And worthy friends are rare:
These carpet slippers on my feet,
That padded leather chair;
This old and shabby dressing-gown,
So well the worse of wear.

I have some friends, some honest friends,
And honest friends are few;
My pipe of briar, my open fire,
A book that's not too new;
My bed so warm, the nights of storm
I love to listen to.

I have some friends, some good, good friends,
Who faithful are to me:
My wrestling partner when I rise,
The big and burly sea;
My little boat that's riding there
So saucy and so free.

I have some friends, some golden friends,
Whose worth will not decline:
A tawny Irish terrier, a purple shading pine,
A little red-roofed cottage that
So proudly I call mine.

All other friends may come and go,
All other friendships fail;
But these, the friends I've worked to win,
Oh, they will never stale;
And comfort me till Time shall write
The finish to my tale.

poem by Robert William Service
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One-Sided Conversation

She sat, head bent,
In her old, grey chair,
The blinds were pulled and drawn,
The shadows caught
In the gathering gloom,
But she moved not at all;
Her husband, stood by the old oak door
He'd cleared his throat to speak,
'You wanted to see me, then, ' he said,
A pallor upon his cheek.

She knew, he thought,
She knew full well
His cheating, shiftless ways,
He'd married her more for her money
Than for her wit, her charm or grace.
She'd warned him once
She'd warned him twice,
She'd said that he made her sick,
Now he was the one who was feeling ill
As she still refused to speak.

'I 'spect you want
Me gone, ' he said,
And waited for some response,
She sat, head bent in her favourite chair
As he stood there, like a dunce.
'I need some money,
A thousand pounds,
Will get me out of a fix.'
The way she sat, and stared at the floor
Meant: 'No, I'll give you nix.'

He mopped his forehead
With trembling hands,
The sharks were closing in,
If she didn't come to his rescue, well,
He'd seen what they'd do to him…
'I beg you, think
Of your own good name, '
But she wasn't listening then,
Her face was grim, she stared at the floor,
With nothing left for him.

He went to a drawer
And took a gun,
Then held it up to his head,
'I'd never have thought you could be so cruel
To the man who shares your bed.'
The air grew chill
In the silent room
As he let out a plaintive cry,
The shot rang out, but she didn't move
As he fell to the floor, and died.

The doctor came,
And the police, of course,
But the wife still sat and stared,
The husband lay on the bloodstained rug
As if she'd never cared.
'It's very odd, '
Said the sergeant then,
But the Doctor suppressed a laugh,
'He's only been dead for an hour, ' he said,
'She's been dead for an hour and a half.'

9 April 2008

poem by David Lewis Paget
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All I Hate About You

Dedicated to Natalie and everyone who's hearts been broken

I hate that I fell for you
I hate that you left me
I hate that you hate me
I hate that you don’t care
I hate that you wanted this
I hate your smiles
I hate your laugh
I hate your jokes
I hate your friends
I hate you exes
I hate that I would die if I didn’t see you smile just one more time
I hate how this isn’t your fault and its mine
I hate how my friends lie to me telling me it’s yours
I hate that I ever met you
I hate how I would have never changed a thing

poem by Jackie Emley
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Friends

In our childhoods days
Together we would play
People said we were inseparable
Like a brother then
My protective friend
He would always take good care of me
Friends thats what we are just
Friends no more or less oh
Here we are sharing so much fun
Friends why cant he see that I want him
To be more than my friend
Years have come and gone
Still our friendships strong
Now hes more than just the boy next door
Im in love with him
Guess Ive always been
He doesnt know hes all Im living for
Friends thats all we are just
Friends so near yet so far from love
And oh the joy that he can bring
Friends why cant he see that I want him
To be more than my friend
Id like to tell him that I need him bad
But Im afraid if I do I might lose
The only friend that I have
Friends thats all we are just
Friends so near yet so far from love and thus
Well always remain friends
Friends why cant he see that I want us
To be more than just friends

song performed by by Donna Summer
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Derelict

Written by dave walker.
Oh I slept in a derelict
And I ate off the floor
I was wrapped in a blanket
As a knock came on the door
You can get out of here
Said a man in a raincoat
So I moved in with you and you loved me
Took a trip down the highway
And I spoke with my folks
Its a serious business
And theres no time for jokes
You can get out of here
Said a middle aged lady
So I moved in with you, and you loved me
Yes you loved, you loved me
There was so much at stake
Too much confusion
Id had all I could take
No more get out of heres
From a man in a raincoat
Cause I moved in with you, and you loved me

song performed by by Fleetwood Mac
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The poetess, the moon...and the woods Pt1

A tear traced a path on her cheek in the moonlight
As her lips brushed the brow of her sleeping child

She stood still for a moment, with eyes closed tightly
Corners of lips pulled up… in a winsome smile

Strode heavily to the open window
stared out into the woods, soft lit by the moon

Then with a sigh pulled down the window
And quietly tiptoed out of the room

Glanced in at her husband, long asleep in their bed
And in her mind gave him a kiss on the top of his head

Then sat at her desk and finished her poem
Sat back and reviewed it… one last time

It was about her life… and about her home
And about the glow of the woods in the moonshine

She nodded her head… as if in agreement
With the words that she had carefully, composed

Her finger touched “enter” with determined intent
Then her whole body slumped in repose

From the corners of her eyes, she saw the moon rise
Oe’r the woods from out of her window

A teardropp fell softly to her desk as she stood
And walked through the door for the very last time

She looked up at the moon and then strode into the woods
She had posted her last poem…her very last rhyme

poem by David Whalen
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Dum Vivimus Vigilemus

TURN out more ale, turn up the light;
I will not go to bed to-night.
Of all the foes that man should dread
The first and worst one is a bed.
Friends I have had both old and young,
And ale we drank and songs we sung:
Enough you know when this is said,
That, one and all,—they died in bed.
In bed they died and I ’ll not go
Where all my friends have perished so.
Go you who glad would buried be,
But not to-night a bed for me.

For me to-night no bed prepare,
But set me out my oaken chair.
And bid no other guests beside
The ghosts that shall around me glide;
In curling smoke-wreaths I shall see
A fair and gentle company.
Though silent all, rare revellers they,
Who leave you not till break of day.
Go you who would not daylight see,
But not to-night a bed for me:
For I ’ve been born and I ’ve been wed—
All of man’s peril comes of bed.

And I ’ll not seek—whate’er befall—
Him who unbidden comes to all.
A grewsome guest, a lean-jawed wight—
God send he do not come to-night!
But if he do, to claim his own,
He shall not find me lying prone;
But blithely, bravely, sitting up,
And raising high the stirrup-cup.
Then if you find a pipe unfilled,
An empty chair, the brown ale spilled;
Well may you know, though naught be said,
That I ’ve been borne away to bed.

poem by Charles Harper Webb
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Your Outsourcing Abilities

Calm down!
What is the matter with you?
You look exasperated.
Irritated AND annoyed.
What happened?

'I arrived home.
And everything was gone.
All of my food.
Icecream and my favorite cookies.'

Gee.
Really?
I saw your buddies doing that.
But...
I didn't think anything about it.

'You witnessed it?
And didn't say a thing about it to them? '

Why should I?
Those are your friends.
Your allies.
And besides on my last visit to your home,
You declared you would do absolutely anything...
To get your hands on season tickets.
Do you remember this?

'Well...
Yes.'

Do you remember telling your 'friends',
Whatever they wanted from you...
They didn't even have to ask.
And whatever it was had been up for grabs?
And all they had to do was to take it from you?

'Well...?
Sorta...kinda.
Why didn't you stop me?
You could have said something.'

I did.
I called you a fool.
And then what did you say,
As your friends looked at both me and you?

'I said...
If anyone knew anything about outsourcing.
It was 'me' and not you who should be calling 'you' names.'

Exactly.
And you are right.
Apparently calling you a fool,
Was not enough.
Especially when you issued each one of your 'buddies',
A set of your house keys...
To come and go as they please.

'But I didn't think they would do anything like this to me.'

Well...
You did show 'your' outsourcing abilities,
At the expense of feeding yourself.
And I hope you are not here,
To accuse or blame me for your activities?
You and your friends do that 'feast or famine' thing together.
Do not involve me.
I am going to sleep, eat and live my life quietly in peace.
Would you like a sandwich?

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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He Was My Brother

He was my brother
Five years older than I
He was my brother
Twenty-three years old the day he died
Freedom writer
They cursed my brother to his face
Go home outsider
This town's gonna be your buryin' place
He was singin' on his knees
An angry mob trailed along
They shot my brother dead
Because he hated what was wrong
He was my brother
Tears can't bring him back to me
He was my brother
And he died so his brothers could be free
He died so his brothers could be free

song performed by by Simon & Garfunkel
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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He Was My Brother

He was my brother
Five years older than I
He was my brother
Twenty-three Years old the day he died
Freedom writer
They cursed my brother to his face
Go home outsider
This town's gonna be your buryin' place
He was singin' on his knees
An angry mob trailed along
They shot my brother dead
Because he hated what was wrong
He was my brother
Tears can't bnng him back to me
He was my brother
And he died so his brothers could be free
He died so his brothers could be free

song performed by by Paul Simon
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Break Of Tradition

My mom can't be bothered with me
Because her boyfriend dumped her
My dad uses me to hurt her
My sister steals all of my things
My other sister tries to beat me up
Over accidents
My last sister makes cruel jokes about me
My brother isn't ever around
My friends ask what's wrong
My friends try to help
My friends actually care
But I'm supposed to think
That family's always there
And friends aren't

poem by Tiffany Rose Moczydlowski
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Strange Things

I was on top of the world
It was right in my pocket
I was livin' the life
Things were just the way they should be
When from out of the sky like a bomb comes some little punk in a rocket
Now all of a sudden some strange things are happenin' to me
I had friends,
I had lots of friends
Now all my friends are gone
And I'm doin' the best I can to carry on
I had power (power)
I was respected (respect)
But not any more
And I've lost the love to the one whom I adored
Let me tell you about the strange things are happenin' to me
Strange things
Strange things are happenin' to me...
Ain't no doubt about it
You got someone you think you know well
It turns out a stranger
The minute you turn your back
You're in it all by yourself
They laugh at your jokes
You think you're doin' well
But you're in danger, boy
You end up alone, forgotten, way up on the shelf
Strange things are happenin' to me
Strange things
Strange things are happenin' to me
Ain't no doubt about it
Strange things are happenin' to me
Strange things
Strange things are happenin' to me
Strange things
Strange things

song performed by by Randy Newman
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Illicit

Of what she said to me that night—no matter.
The strange thing came next day.
My brain was full of music—something she played me;
I couldn't remember it all, but phrases of it
Wreathed and wreathed among faint memories,
Seeking for something, trying to tell me something,
Urging to restlessness, verging on grief.
I tried to play the tune, from memory—
But memory failed: the chords and discords climbed
And found no resolution, only hung there,
And left me morbid. Where, then, had I heard it? ...
What secret dusty chamber was it hinting?
'Dust,' it said, 'dust .... and dust .... and sunlight ....
A cold clear April evening .... snow-bedraggled ....
Rain-worn snow dappling the hideous grass ....
And someone walking alone; and someone saying
That all must end, for the time had come to go ... .'
These were the phrases; but behind, beneath them,
A greater shadow moved, and in this shadow
I stood and guessed Was it the blue-eyed lady?
The one who always danced in golden slippers?—
And had I danced, with her, upon this music?
Or was it further back—the unplumbed twilight
Of childhood? .... No—much recenter than that.

You know, without my telling you, how sometimes
A word or name eludes you, and you seek it
Through running ghosts of shadow—leaping at it,
Lying in wait for it to spring upon it,
Spreading faint snares for it of sense or sound ;
Until of a sudden, as if in a phantom forest,
You hear it, see it flash among the branches,
And, scarcely knowing how, suddenly have it.
Well, it was so I followed down this music,
Glimpsing a face in darkness, hearing a cry,
Remembering days forgotten, moods exhausted.
Corners in sunlight, puddles reflecting stars;
Until, of a sudden, and least of all expected,
The thing resolved itself: and I remembered
An April afternoon, eight years ago—
Or was it nine ?—no matter, call it nine—
A room in which the last of sunlight faded;
A vase of violets, fragrance in white curtains;
And she, who played this same thing later, playing.

She played this tune. And in the middle of it
Abruptly broke it off, letting her hands
Fall in her lap. She sat there so a moment,
With shoulders drooped, then lifted up a rose,
One great white rose, wide open, like a lotus,
And pressed it to her cheek, and closed her eyes.
'You know—we've got to end this—Miriam loves you....
If she should ever know, or even guess it,
What would she do? Listen!—I'm not absurd....
I'm sure of it. If you had eyes for women,
To understand them, which you've never had,
You'd know it too . . . .' So went this colloquy,
Half humorous, with undertones of pathos,
Half grave, half flippant .... while her ringers, softly,
Felt for this tune, played it and let it fall,
Now note by singing note, now chord by chord,
Repeating phrases with a kind of pleasure.
Was it symbolic of the woman's weakness
That she could neither break it—nor conclude?
It paused .... and wandered .... paused again; while she,
Perplexed and tired, half told me I must go,
Half asked me if I thought I ought to go....

Well, April passed, with many other evenings,
Evenings like this, with later suns and warmer,
With violets always there, and fragrant curtains....
And she was right. And Miriam found it out....
And after that, when eight deep years had passed—
Or nine—we met once more, by accident.
But was it just by accident, I wonder,
She played this tune? Or what, then, was intended?

poem by Conrad Potter Aiken
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How Do You Live With Yourself

Sometimes I think and I also wander
As I think of our world and everyone else,
But now I am thinking only of you
And I think, how can you live with yourself.
Are you happy with the things you have done
Will you be happy with the things that you will do
As I am happy to be remembered as I am
And tell me, will anyone say the same about you.
I have seen you lie yet so many, many times
And also seen you used so many sadden souls
And I was there to be used and also abused by you
And for no one but yourself do you have pity or woe.
You have played your roll so many sad times
Acting like you were the victim of a crime
But GOD will open up your heart one day
And then you and everyone will see who was lying.
As I think what examples will you have set
For your daughters and maybe yet their friends
Is it that vows and promises are meant to be broken
And if your not caught, it is not really a sin.
Are you ashamed when you walked down the street
Are you daughters embarrassed to call you mum
Do they tell you what their friends say and think about you
And do you know at the end of many jokes you are the pun.
Do you smile with the life that you are living
Are you happy with the life you and your girls live
Do you have them still believing the lies you tell them
As if you do, for them a deeper grave you will dig.
Judgment day for all it will come and then will go
And sadly for you your destination as been dealt
And when you gone, and yours daughters live on
Will they say, How did you live with yourself.

Randy L. McClave

poem by Randy McClave
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If the joke's at your expense

If the joke's at your expense... don't ask for the bill
Take the blows smiling... and then go for the kill!
Sarcasm screaming loud...outta my head
Laugh's cruel acid rain... Leaves mind dead
When a smile turns to smirk
It gets too bloody dark
Dark humor, Devil's grin
Tranquility of liquid sin
At times, you know, smiles can make
One Cry and break High hopes, STILL make
You, the butt of all jokes that they crack

poem by Saurabh Som
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Unyielding heart

Since he died,
her days are full.
Life goes quickly
and so it should

Since he died she toils,
works longer hours
has more hobbies
and new friends.

Since he died
her throat is tight
she hardly sleeps
the gap is wide.

Since he died
she reminisces,
recalls his kisses,
those warm full lips.

Since he died
her heart still beats
it will not stop ___
It defies her.

poem by Ruth Walters
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