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Vanishing Future

The Vanishing Future

The lake we swam in, as children, is now
a sea of knee high thistles, in summer
evenings, that had no night, we fished for
trout, now I see empty tins of sardines
blinking in fading sunlight

I had travelled long to get here fifty years
or so, my old home was an oblong square
on ugly ground, but I did find a rusty
spade to dig my tiny space while smoking
a last cigarette or two.

poem by Oskar Hansen
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A Tin Of Sardines

A tin of Sardines.

Mother by an assembly line putting tiny sardines into tins,
a machine did the rest, a squirt of oil and a lid stamped on.
Sardines side by side, in total darkness, wait to be eaten.
But first of all the sardines had to be smoked, the smoker
my mother’s lover, he visited her every Sunday afternoon,
and I was sent out to find a place that sold ice cream, even
when it rained. Rusting sardine cans, littering the wayside,
don’t walk barefoot in the grass at summer time. Mother
by an assembly line, putting sardines into tins, the smoker
had another girlfriend now and I got no Sunday ice cream.

poem by Oskar Hansen
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The Price Of Water

The little lake, not far from the houses, has been
dry for years and is full of thistles and rubbish.
By, what was its shore, the sad rest of a rowboat
I remember it was blue, and someone had nicked
its oars; for firewood I take it. I used to row in
this lake in the evening catching trout.

When the moon made the lake into shimmering
silver my heart got quite wobbly by the beauty.
Last week I crossed the lake on my scooter, it was
not easy I lost my balance and was badly stung,
gasped for air, felt as drowning in a dry lagoon.
In the future the new commodity will be water.

poem by Oskar Hansen
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Denial Of The Heart

While sitting in a bench
Of an empty old park
Smoking a cigarette
watching the cloud of smokes
Vanishing in spiral forms around me
bewitched by the sunlight
Of a summer's afternoon....
Thinking about you
My mind is trying desperately
To erase your name
From its chamber of thoughts...
But my heart still refuses
To follow through....

Desperate also I am
to find a new love
And get a new life
Which is my real desire
And it it is also a fact of life:
'Ashes remain where there was fire'...
And wonder why
My heart is still in denial
Time is flying
And I am getting old and tired....
Thinking about my life
Which one day will expire....

COPY WRITE©2009

poem by Romeo Della Valle
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Dave Lilly

There's a brook on the side of Greylock that used to be full of trout,
But there's nothing there now but minnows; they say it is all fished out.
I fished there many a Summer day some twenty years ago,
And I never quit without getting a mess of a dozen or so.

There was a man, Dave Lilly, who lived on the North Adams road,
And he spent all his time fishing, while his neighbors reaped and sowed.
He was the luckiest fisherman in the Berkshire hills, I think.
And when he didn't go fishing he'd sit in the tavern and drink.

Well, Dave is dead and buried and nobody cares very much;
They have no use in Greylock for drunkards and loafers and such.
But I always liked Dave Lilly, he was pleasant as you could wish;
He was shiftless and good-for-nothing, but he certainly could fish.

The other night I was walking up the hill from Williamstown
And I came to the brook I mentioned,
and I stopped on the bridge and sat down.
I looked at the blackened water with its little flecks of white
And I heard it ripple and whisper in the still of the Summer night.

And after I'd been there a minute it seemed to me I could feel
The presence of someone near me, and I heard the hum of a reel.
And the water was churned and broken, and something was brought to land
By a twist and flirt of a shadowy rod in a deft and shadowy hand.

I scrambled down to the brookside and hunted all about;
There wasn't a sign of a fisherman; there wasn't a sign of a trout.
But I heard somebody chuckle behind the hollow oak
And I got a whiff of tobacco like Lilly used to smoke.

It's fifteen years, they tell me, since anyone fished that brook;
And there's nothing in it but minnows that nibble the bait off your hook.
But before the sun has risen and after the moon has set
I know that it's full of ghostly trout for Lilly's ghost to get.

I guess I'll go to the tavern and get a bottle of rye
And leave it down by the hollow oak, where Lilly's ghost went by.
I meant to go up on the hillside and try to find his grave
And put some flowers on it -- but this will be better for Dave.

poem by Joyce Kilmer
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We Are Not Alone

We were lost in the valley
Midway between night and day
Which way's the goddamn highway??
"The car breaks down"
So, we walk ten million miles
All across some countryside
Until lightning struck the sky
"The rain came down"
Hey!
This house looks so creepy
Anybody home?
Look out! There's somebody!
We're not alone
Up three creaking wooden stairs
An old man with no hair...stares!
Sitting in a rocking chair
"Please be my guest"
He says I'm glad you are here
I have been waiting for years
You see, they land in my field
"Tonight's the night"
Hey!
You'll see...Don't you worry
Make youself at home
Maybe they'll be friendly
Or maybe not, but
Hey!
What if we're all crazy?
What if we're alone?
Then the sky is empty
And we're alone
We are alone
We're not alone
Are we alone?...alone...
Looking deep into the night
We'll see if the old man's right
So far...there's nothing i
"Except frostbite"
Flying low without a sound
Look out! They are all around
Spinning down, touching the ground
"Damn he was right!"
Hey!
We see! We're not worried!
We're not going home
They are green and ugly
Or maybe not...but,
Hey!
They are green and ugly
Who wants to go home?
God! We are so lucky!
We're not alone
We're not alone
We're not alone
(Welcome aboard

song performed by by Voivod
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Smokin The Herb Again

Yo yo yo, yo, yo yo what
Smoking
Were smoking, were smoking the herb again
Were smoking, were smoking, were smoking the herb again
Were smoking, were smoking, were smoking the herb again
Were smoking, were smoking, were smoking the herb again
Damn, I really wish I could find my sack man
Must have got eaten by pac-man
If I had it I could smoke again
Smoke with my friends to the very end
But now Im trying to comprehend
Whens the next time that Ill smoke again
I need to know, please tell when will we smoke again
I got a buddy, his name is ted
Hes got a problem going through his head
He doesnt know how to puff puff give
But I like so Ill teach him and Ill let him live
Everyday we teach him right
When he divides, we have to fight
But at the end of the trying day
We says its ok and we puff away
Just the other night, I saw you, you were smokin not sharing and being tight
But thats ok, you are my friend, well smoking until the very end
The lessons that we put out, we order you to try it out
Its nice to smoke, yea thats what were all about
Smoking
Were smoking, were smoking the herb again
Were smoking, were smoking, were smoking the herb again
Were smoking, were smoking, were smoking the herb again
Were smoking, were smoking, were smoking the herb again
Hey, ho, hey ho, hey, ho, hey, ho, hey, ho, hey, ho
I smoke, you smoke, we smoke, they smoke, smoking everywhere
I smoke, you smoke, we smoke, they smoke, smoking all together
Smoking
Were smoking, were smoking the herb again
Were smoking, were smoking, were smoking the herb again
Were smoking, were smoking, were smoking the herb again
Were smoking, were smoking, were smoking the herb again

song performed by by Incubus
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Little Red Light

Sitting in traffic on the Tappan Zee
Fifty million people out in front of me
Trying to cross the water but it just might be a while
Rain's coming down I can't see a thing
Radio's broken so I'm whistling
New York to Nyack feels like a hundred miles
It's not right
It's not fair
I'm still a mess
And you still don't care
I go to work
I come back home
But you're still gone
And I'm still alone
And the little red light's not blinking
No, no the little red light's not blinking
No, no the little red light's not blinking
On my big black plastic Japanese cordless phone
Oh no
Stuck in a meeting on Monday night
Trying to get the numbers to come out right
I'm getting tired, I think I just might need a drink
And as I'm reaching in the bottom drawer
I'm dreaming 'bout the way it was before
Life was so easy I never really had to think
It's not right
It's not fair
I'm still a mess
And you still don't care
I go to sleep
When I wake up
The pain sets in
And it never stops
And the little red light's not blinking
No, no the little red light's not blinking
No, no the little red light's not blinking
On the desktop mailbox of my big black laptop
Oh no
It's not right
It's not fair
I'm still a mess
And you still don't care
I go to work
I come back home
But you're still gone
And I'm still alone
And the little red light's not blinking
No, no the little red light's not blinking
No, no the little red light's not blinking
On my big black Radio Shack digital portable phone
Oh no

song performed by by Fountains Of Wayne
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Love In The Future

I cannot bathe you in a river gone black
I cannot hold you in a poison rain
If I cant see you through the air that we breathe
What will love in the future be?
I wanna watch my children laugh as they run
I wanna hold their children on my knee
And tell them stories of a vanishing sun
Of how it used to be
In my lovers life I want to share
I want to see the world now through her eyes
And about everything she sees, I care
The time has come to rise
I cannot bathe you in a river gone black
I cannot hold you in a poison rain
If I cant see you through the air that we breathe
What will love in the future be?
Will we make it a different story?
Is there love in the future for you and me?
Were looking for answers in outer space
When will we discover the earth is a sacred place?
Chorus

song performed by by Reo Speedwagon
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Cold Grey Morning

Cold grey morning without sunlight ghostly mist on the horizon
Empty visions of a world gone mad paints a picture so revealing
Through my window dark tomorrow I can hear the sirens wailing
For the future we are holding on as the ship of fools is sailing
Such a long time such a long time
We are waiting for a peace that's lasting
Reaching upward sliding downward looks like just another
Cold grey morning
Hardly breathing hope is fading it's the e nd of the beginning
Children playing in the empty streets it's a cold grey morning

song performed by by Kansas
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Whoever Said The World Is Small

I've travelled far from my old home
Yet I've not been to Paris or Rome
Just two of the many Cities I have not seen
Yet I have travelled in places brown and green
Though many have seen far more than me
I write of the beauty I see
Though time on my life ticks on ceaselessly
I'm getting on in years sixty three
It is a big World the World out there
And not one who has been to everywhere
Whoever said the World is small
When it is quite huge overall
From the stream of the brown mountain trout
One might say I've ventured far south.

poem by Francis Duggan
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Harlem Rain

R.sambora
The old man down on the corner
Is downing in his pain
I can see the sorrow in his eyes
His tears, the leave a stain
The streets have left him broken
Hes in the final phase
Its been a long hard road
From his glory days.
Theres a tatoo of his sweetheart
Fading on his arm
He talks of painful tragedy
How he lost his lucky charm
His memory is clouded
From the thunder in this vein
Hes vanishing, vanishing gone
In the harlem rain.
Harlem rain coming down
Another shattered soul
In the lost and found
One more night
On the street of pain
Getting washed away by the harlem rain.
On desperation avenue
The devil takes his toll
Where the pushers and the poverty
Slowly claim your soul
When you reached the realization
That you just cant break the chain, no
Youre vanishing, vanishing gone
In the harlem rain.
Harlem rain coming down
Another shattered soul
In the lost and found
One more night
On the street of pain
Getting washed away by the harlem rain (harlem rain).
In your seach for tender mercy
No one seemed to care
The faith that used to be your crutch
Is now your cross to bear
You last yourself so long ago
You dont know who to blame
Youre vanishing, vanishing gone
Vanishing, vanishing gone
Vanishing, vanishing gone
In the harlem rain.

song performed by by Bon Jovi
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Survival Car

Dont you wanna ride in my
Survival car
We can take the long way home
Through central park
Funny how the ground can find my wheels
Im going where the road aint there
And only riding on the path we made
To union square
Doing like the young folks do
In west coast towns
Plowing like a banshee through
The overground
Funny how the ground can find my wheels
Im going where the road wont dare
And only riding on the path we made
To union square
Everybody hit the ground
I think I might have missed my calling
Everybody turn around
The lights about to change
You better stand aside
Why you wanna walk
Dont you want to ride ride ride ride
Dont you wanna ride in my
Survival car
We can take the long way home
Funny how the ground can find my wheels
Im going where the road wont there
And only riding on the path we made
To union square
And only riding on the path we made
Riding on the path we made
Riding on the path we made
To union square
Dont you wanna ride in my
Survival car
We can take the long way home

song performed by by Fountains Of Wayne
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Cigarette Girl

“Cigarettes, cigarillo, cigars, ” I did say,
as cigarette smoke came my way,
Choking on the smoke from it’s tar,
I only liked the smell of the cigar.
I was a cigarette girl in the casino Mystic Lake,
I got a big tip in high stakes.
It was a $20.00 coin of red,
I had to cash it in before I left.
One day I met the piano man,
He introduced me to Chucky
a generous soul with a helping hand.
Chucky painted my props for my show,
He painted World War II planes a long time ago.
We gambled at this casino all summer long,
I would ride in his car listening to Frankie’s songs.
Cigarette girl job had to end,
I will always remember Chucky my dear old friend.

Written by Suzae Chevalier on September 22,2011
www.suzaechevalier.com www.puppetpoems.com

poem by Christina Sunrise
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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O'.. There Comes My Fiancee!

All the teen boys playing in the street
Stop their play and suddenly turn into adult!
On that street side in the fading sunlight …! !

Even the swaying elderly men
Tries to steady them throwing the stick!
On that street side in the fading sunlight …! !

The ape which jumps tree to tree
Made its mind to sit on the wall watching!
On that street side in the fading sunlight …! !

Even the drivers of speedy vehicles stop
And look keenly at the sides of speed breaker!
On that street side in the fading sunlight …! !

All the teen age girls are disgusted,
And discouraged at their sight on the platform!
On that street side in the fading sunlight …! !

O'.. I see! There comes my fiancee!
On that street side in the fading sunlight …! !

poem by V.K. Kanniappan
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I Dreamt Of My Father Last Night

I dreamt of my father last night
with an indifferent boy to his height
out from a hazy meadow into my sight

on his face was this grave grin
as he paused a little for me to join
while the boy looked away in vague pain

I might have been curious who he was
but father took out his cigarette case
that exuded its old taciturn wince

humbly I took the cigarette
though we both had long since quit
and leaned forward for father to light it

somehow my rusty puff snuffed out father’s light
the only inexplicable one for the night
while my apologetically lit cigarette was alright

I handed it over for father to light his cigarette
which he puffed hard but could not manage it
even if the two were closely joint tête-à-tête

knowing it was a dream I did not want daylight
in that haziness my cigarette was only thing alight
I waited and waited for father to get his light —

poem by Dr Ronnie Bai
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The Crooked Ways Of The Tiny Birds

feelings are sometimes like the tiny birds
of summer feeding on a few grains

on the wide yards of the garden where the grasses
spread far

some feels being smothered by the indifference of other
tiny birds

separated by the distance of the long lines of
parallel electric poles

imagine the image of tiny birds sitting in there
looking for pecking

one notices the vastness of the sky
the unfinished climb of the hill

the vanishing paths of trails long untrue
feelings like tiny birds fly away

but there is no reason to be afraid on the
facts of nonreciprocating birds

ah, the world is wide and too interesting
to be ignored

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Cigarette Girl

"Cigarettes, cigarillo, cigars, " I did say,
as cigarette smoke came my way,
Choking on the smoke from it's tar,
I only liked the smell of the cigar.
I was a cigarette girl in the casino Mystic Lake,
I got a big tip in high stakes.
It was a $20.00 coin of red,
I had to cash it in before I left.
One day I met the piano man,
He introduced me to Chucky
a generous soul with a helping hand.
Chucky painted my props for my show,
He painted World War II planes a long time ago.
We gambled at this casino all summer long,
I would ride in his car listening to Frankie's songs.
Cigarette girl job had to end,
I will always remember Chucky my dear old friend.

Written by Suzae Chevalier on September 22,2011
www.suzae.com www.puppetpoems.com

poem by Suzae Chevalier
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Holiday

Many memories of our childhood
linger in our minds forever,
dwelling there for us to remember.
How much we wish sometimes
to go back and maybe do things a little different.
There are many things I would change
if I had my chance again, but I can’t.
However, saying that I remember
a holiday I wish I could relive again and again.
I am not sure what summer it was,
but what I do remember was staying
with a surrogate unt and Uncle
who gave me the best time of my life.
We travelled around the Great Lakes
with all their wonders to see.
Camped out in tents under the moonlight,
and fished for our breakfast, lunch and dinner.
It was the most exciting time in my life.
It seemed longer now than it really was,
yet it was over fifty years ago.
The days remain fresh in my mind
though the faces are now vague.
The fun I had remains as fresh as ever
of the greatest holiday I ever had.

12 November 2008

poem by David Harris
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I See You've Travelled Some

Wherever you may chance to be — wherever you may roam,
Far away in foreign lands; or just at home sweet home;
It always gives you pleasure, it makes your heart strings hum
Just to hear
The words of cheer,
'I see you've travelled some.'

When you get a brother’s greeting, and he takes you by the hand,
It thrills you with a feeling that you cannot understand,
You feel that bond of brotherhood, that tie that’s sure to come
When you hear him say
In a friendly way
'I see you've travelled some.'

And if you are a stranger, in strange lands all alone
If fate has left you stranded, dead broke and far from home,
Oh, it's a grand and glorious feeling, it thrills you; makes you numb,
When he says with a grip
Of fellowship,
'I see you've travelled some.'

And when your final summons comes, to take a last long trip,
Adorned with Lambskin Apron White and gems of fellowship —
The Tiler at the Golden Gate, with Square and Level and Plumb
Will size up your pin
And say 'Walk In:
I see you've travelled some.'

poem by Edgar Albert Guest
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The Forsaken

I
Once in the winter
Out on a lake
In the heart of the north-land,
Far from the Fort
And far from the hunters,
A Chippewa woman
With her sick baby,
Crouched in the last hours
Of a great storm.
Frozen and hungry,
She fished through the ice
With a line of the twisted
Bark of the cedar,
And a rabbit-bone hook
Polished and barbed;
Fished with the bare hook
All through the wild day,
Fished and caught nothing;
While the young chieftain
Tugged at her breasts,
Or slept in the lacings
Of the warm tikanagan.
All the lake-surface
Streamed with the hissing
Of millions of iceflakes
Hurled by the wind;
Behind her the round
Of a lonely island
Roared like a fire
With the voice of the storm
In the deeps of the cedars.
Valiant, unshaken,
She took of her own flesh,
Baited the fish-hook,
Drew in a gray-trout,
Drew in his fellows,
Heaped them beside her,
Dead in the snow.
Valiant, unshaken,
She faced the long distance,
Wolf-haunted and lonely,
Sure of her goal
And the life of her dear one:
Tramped for two days,
On the third in the morning,
Saw the strong bulk
Of the Fort by the river,
Saw the wood-smoke
Hand soft in the spruces,
Heard the keen yelp
Of the ravenous huskies
Fighting for whitefish:
Then she had rest.

II

Years and years after,
When she was old and withered,
When her son was an old man
And his children filled with vigour,
They came in their northern tour on the verge of winter,
To an island in a lonely lake.
There one night they camped, and on the morrow
Gathered their kettles and birch-bark
Their rabbit-skin robes and their mink-traps,
Launched their canoes and slunk away through the islands,
Left her alone forever,
Without a word of farewell,
Because she was old and useless,
Like a paddle broken and warped,
Or a pole that was splintered.
Then, without a sigh,
Valiant, unshaken,
She smoothed her dark locks under her kerchief,
Composed her shawl in state,
Then folded her hands ridged with sinews and corded with veins,
Folded them across her breasts spent with the nourishment of children,
Gazed at the sky past the tops of the cedars,
Saw two spangled nights arise out of the twilight,
Saw two days go by filled with the tranquil sunshine,
Saw, without pain, or dread, or even a moment of longing:
Then on the third great night there came thronging and thronging
Millions of snowflakes out of a windless cloud;
They covered her close with a beautiful crystal shroud,
Covered her deep and silent.
But in the frost of the dawn,
Up from the life below,
Rose a column of breath
Through a tiny cleft in the snow,
Fragile, delicately drawn,
Wavering with its own weakness,
In the wilderness a sign of the spirit,
Persisting still in the sight of the sun
Till day was done.
Then all light was gathered up by the hand of God and hid in His breast,
Then there was born a silence deeper than silence,
Then she had rest.

poem by Duncan Campbell Scott
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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