The Homecoming
When you were in Vietnam
we got your letters, two or three at once
and then the whole house buzzed like a nest
of honey drunk bees as we poured over
your every word.
We kids imagined you, strong, tough,
blazing with righteous American fury
cutting down those dirty commies,
but Mom and Dad
read each letter more slowly
glancing at each other
with darker looks.
Then one day we got the recording you made,
tiny plastic reels, shiny brown tape wound
in fragile loops; your voice!
just like you were in the room, speaking
re-assuring, everyday chat about R&R
and shopping in Bangkok. Finally,
the tape nearly spent, you said that
you were coming home soon.
And one bright July morning
you came home! Your hat was rakishly tilted,
a Lucky Strike cigarette carelessly drooping
from the corner of your grinning mouth,
all paratrooper swagger, gold braid running
through your buttoned shoulder loops,
colored ribbons and medals all over your chest.
As you walked through the door
I stood aside, awestruck, shy.
You sat like a visitor in your own home
and we opened the packages you brought for us,
Christmas in July, as one by one we held
our Asian wonders, and watched
as Mom held your hand and
Dad searched your eyes.
But you were tired, so upstairs in my room
you took a midday nap, and when Mom told me
to wake you for supper, I nudged your shoulder
and you bolted,
breathless,
down the steps,
into the quiet street
and stood at tense attention,
(the neighbors all gawking) ,
as you waved your M-16
made of air
and memory,
and waited
for the mortars
to fall
and kill us all.
Then the light returned to your eyes.
Slowly you walked back to the house
and gently took me by my shoulders
and told me to never,
never
touch you when you were asleep,
and I never asked you why.
poem by Steven Federle
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
We Walked Together In The Night
We walked together in the night
Hand in hand, intertwined
It was like a magical dream
I just couldn't believe
We walked together in the night
My heart raced on as if I might die
You calmed me down and told me everything would be alright
We walked together in the night
Just you and I
You held my hand, you held me close
You protected me, and kept me safe
We walked together in the night
That night was the best time of my life
Time I spent with you
We walked together in the night
We're just best friends....
But does this date mean anything?
We walked together in the night
We laughed, We played
We were nervous, We were afraid
What might happen after this night?
We walked together in the night
You took me out to the movies
You took me back to my house
Everything was perfect then
Until I ruined it...
I walked away with tears in my eyes.....I ruined it
I walked back home alone that night...because we weren't ready to date just yet
poem by Starrbox Munoz
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Fay and You and the Ruler.
Fay met you
on your way home
from school
standing by the entrance
of Meadow Row
she was in her school uniform
a satchel
over a shoulder
how was school?
she asked
boring and the day
too long
you replied
but at least
you can learn things
she said
like how
to make a candle
holder in woodwork?
finding some river
in India
I'll never see?
you said
she smiled shyly
well maybe you will
she said
how are you?
you asked
ok
she replied
got told off
by Sister Bernard
for not having a ruler
what did you do
with your ruler?
you asked
lost it
she said
ah well
there you are
you said
naughty naughty
she walked on
down Meadow Row
and you walked
beside her
actually
she said quietly
my daddy took it
she stood still
and stared at you
he beat me
with it
she said
in a whisper
you looked
into her eyes
and saw your
reflection there
two yous
staring back
why?
you asked
taking in her paleness
her fair hair tied
in a ponytail
he said l hadn't done
my jobs properly
jobs?
you asked
around the house
helping my mum
and did you? help?
yes usually
but I forgot
this time
big crime
you said
won't he give
the ruler back?
no
she said
he said he will keep it
as a lesson to me
can't you buy
a new one?
you asked
I haven't any money
she said
you can have
one of mine
you said
I have plenty at home
can I borrow one?
you can have one
she smiled weakly
her eyes lit up
and she took one
of your hands
and held it
I'll have to hide it though
she said
or he'll take
that one too
quite a guy your dad
you said
she looked away
at the bombed out houses
on the left hand side
you saw her hurt
and sadness
some things you can't hide.
poem by Terry Collett
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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In Another Land
In another land where the breeze and the
Trees and flowers were blue
I stood and held your hand.
And the grass grew high and the feathers floated by
I stood and held your hand.
And nobody else's hand will ever do
Nobody else will do
Then I awoke
Was this some kind of joke
Much to my surprise
I opened my eyes.
We walked across the sand and the sea and
The sky and the castles were blue.
I stood and held your hand.
And the spray flew high and the feathers floated by
I stood and held your hand.
And nobody else's hand will ever do
Nobody else will do
Then I awoke
Was this some kind of joke
Much to my surprise
When I opened my eyes.
We heard the trumpets blow and the sky
Turned red when I accidently said
That I didn't know how I came to be here
Not fast asleep in bed.
I stood and held your hand.
And nobody else's hand will ever do
Nobody else's hand
Then I awoke
Was this some kind of joke
I opened my eyes.
Much to my surprise.
song performed by by Rolling Stones from Their Satanic Majesties Request
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Another Restless Dream
Started off at a house were I was outside with Jachin. It was Halloween and my family was at a Halloween event. I had a new phone and was takin a ton of pictures. Jachin started talking to me and the Preston and Phil showed up. The sun was going down and we all got in Phil's SUV. And he was driving crazy and Preston was in the back seat with me and he started asking me if I had read any cool end of the world books. He told me about one him and Phil read. Both of their eyes were red they were high. We stopped at a parking lot and I got out. They started to drive away and I jumped on the car door and hung on while they drove.then suddenly We were all walking and the sun went down. Mireya was with us. We went to a parking lot. We're her ex was going to fight another kid. The other kid was fat. I walked towards her ex and tried talking to him but he was a jerk and I ended up cussing him out as I walked away I passed the other keep put my hand on his shoulder and told him to kick his ass homez. They fought. Then in the corner of my eye I saw a teacher holding a tranquilizer rifle aiming at the dudes.I ran into a little ally were a big fence was, everybody was already on the other side. So I started climbing it and Mireya was helping. I finally jumped over and we all started running but the teacher grabbed Mireya's arm through the fence, I ran back and pulled her free. We ran and Mireya's pants got torn she wasn't wearing any, so we went to her house. An apartment were these zig zag stairs went up three floors, she lived on the top with her mom. You could hear her mom screaming at her'why are you always late to come home? You come home only to change then you leave again at 2 in the morning, what time is it.'As Mireya walks out slamming the door and running down the stairs her mom keeps screaming what Time is it. It's dark me Mireya Phil and Preston hang under a nearby street lamp. There's a bench but Phil and Preston are kneeling on the ground. I'm standing close to Mireya who has a new outfit on and is laying on the bench. I'm looking at Mireya as they ask what she's going to do when the world end. She says she was born in Mexico and shes going to be where she was born to die. She said yup that was her plan, she looked at me, and Phil asks me what my plans for the end of the world are. I say I honestly don't know.. Then say I'll probably be in Mexico partying with Mireya. We all laugh and talk about how the party would last a week. The were quiet and Mireya looks at me and say taco taco burrito burrito. Then I sing that song from South Park. And I wake up.
poem by Jeremy Rascon
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Story Of Isaac
The door it opened slowly,
My father he came in,was nine years old.
And he stood so tall above me,
His blue eyes they were shining
And his voice was very cold.
He said, Ive had a vision
And you know Im strong and holy,
I must do what Ive been told.
So he started up the mountain,
I was running, he was walking,
And his axe was made of gold.
Well, the trees they got much smaller,
The lake a ladys mirror,
We stopped to drink some wine.
Then he threw the bottle over.
Broke a minute later
And he put his hand on mine.
Thought I saw an eagle
But it might have been a vulture,
I never could decide.
Then my father built an altar,
He looked once behind his shoulder,
He knew I would not hide.
You who build these altars now
To sacrifice these children,
You must not do it anymore.
A scheme is not a vision
And you never have been tempted
By a demon or a god.
You who stand above them now,
Your hatchets blunt and bloody,
You were not there before,
When I lay upon a mountain
And my fathers hand was trembling
With the beauty of the word.
And if you call me brother now,
Forgive me if I inquire,
Just according to whose plan?
When it all comes down to dust
I will kill you if I must,
I will help you if I can.
When it all comes down to dust
I will help you if I must,
I will kill you if I can.
And mercy on our uniform,
Man of peace or man of war,
The peacock spreads his fan.
song performed by by Leonard Cohen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Lucky Ball & Chain
I lost my lucky ball & chain
Now she's four years gone
Just five feet tall and sick of me
And all my rattling on
She threw away her baby-doll
I held on to my pride
But i was young and foolish then
I feel old and foolish now
Confidentially --
She never called me baby-doll
Confidentially --
I never had much pride
But now i rock a bar stool
And i drink for two
Just pondering this time bomb in my mind
I lost my lucky ball & chain
Now she's four years gone
Just five feet tall and sick of me
And all my rattling on
She walked away from a happy man
I thought i was so cool
I just stood there whistling
"there goes the bride" as she walked out the door
"there goes the bride" as she walked out the door
I could shake my tiny fist
And swear i wasn't wrong
But what's the sense in arguing
When you're all alone?
Sure as you can't steer a train
You can't change your fate
And when she told me of that day
I knew i'd lost my home
Confidentially --
I never told you of her charms
Confidentially --
We never had a home
But this railroad apartment
Was the perfect place
When she'd sit and hold me in her arms
I lost my lucky ball & chain
Now she's four years gone
Just five feet tall and sick of me
And all my rattling on
She walked away from a happy man
I thought i was so cool
I just stood there whistling
"there goes the bride" as she walked out the door
"there goes the bride" as she walked out the door
"there goes the bride" as she walked out the door
song performed by by They Might Be Giants
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Wren
It was a quiet morning;
As usual my wife Laureen opened the front door (leaving it open wide) in hopes that the cat would follow her out. (Little did she know that a small intruder had flown in through the open door.) After retrieving the morning newspaper, with coffee mug full of steaming coffee Laureen settled into
her morning ritual, with "Neferkitti" (our cat) snuggled on the bar stool next to her.
Suddenly there was a flutter and thump as a tiny wren flew into a window in the dining room.
The bird fell to the floor momentarily stunned. Taking advantage of the moment, with great speed and agility Neferkitti pounced on the helpless bird. Mouthing the bird softly, she presented her catch to her master. Horrified Laureen admonished the cat, screaming "Let her go". With great reluctance the cat dropped the bird on the floor. After a few moments the bird flew up to a tall cabinet, where she landed to assess her predicament.
At this time I was laying in bed reading, when I heard Laureen shout loudly "Ray get in here there is a bird in the house'. I slipped on a shirt, grabbed my glasses, and walked in just as the bird took flight and landed on the rail leading to my upstairs office. Walking up the stairs slowly I reached for the perched bird who quickly flew back down to the family room. Not seeing where she landed I searched the room. Suddenly she flew into a large picture window in the family room. The confused bird sat on the sill looking out of the window. I approached the bird, who made no attempt to fly off. I reached down, and with cupped hands gently picked up the traumatized bird. She chirped once and settled into my warm hands.
Making my way to the sliding door that leads to the outside deck I stepped out and opened my hands to release the bird. Gripping the index finger of my right hand she was reluctant to fly. I stood there, and time froze.
Our eyes met, and I felt the impact of what was happening;
From the wren's perspective here stood a god-like giant with the power of life and death over her. From my perspective there perched on a single finger was a tiny creature who I could crush with hardly any effort. In that brief moment we were both experienced the miracle, diversity and fragile nature of life.
"All creatures great and small"
Walking over to a bench on the deck and with palm up I waited for the bird to step off onto the safety of the bench and freedom. She gripped even more tightly, as if she'd found safety in my hands. With my left hand I gently coaxed her off my right hand onto the bench, where she stood looking around. She made no effort to fly away, so I went back through the door, closed it and stood watching, hoping that she was not seriously injured.
While walking up the stairs to my office I heard Laureen (who'd been watching) exclaim loudly;
"She just flew away"!
Gratified...I went up to my office to write an account of this magical and humbling event.
ROTMS
View ROTMS writings, images and video at;
rotms.blogspot.com
poem by Ray Lucero
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Looking for Love
We married when we were just nineteen,
I thought her a perfect catch,
We'd fallen in love on the day she came
To watch, at a football match,
I'd fallen badly, injured my leg
And was subbed in the second half,
She came to the dressing room, and tied
My leg with her silken scarf.
She said that she was a trainee nurse
And practice was better than none,
I told her I was a graduate,
I'd be limping from now on,
We took a seat at a coffee shop
And stayed for the afternoon,
As I gazed at her dark brown eyes and hair,
And she smiled at me in the gloom.
Our romance whirled us on at a pace
That was breathless, with content,
Whatever our fate would hold for us
We were sure that it was meant,
I ceased to notice the other girls,
And she looked only at me,
We tied the knot on a fresh Spring morn
As we stood by a willow tree.
We made our home in a city flat
Close to her hospital,
I studied and crammed for my Ph.D.
Not counting the cost at all,
But soon we were way behind in the rent
And moved on out to the burbs,
Life was more difficult than we'd thought,
We grew our own veggies, and herbs.
She worked three shifts, and came home tired,
And I would study all night,
Then one came in as the other went out,
I felt that it wasn't right,
We argued then, and we made it up,
Then we argued a little more,
She said she'd go to her parents then,
But I just barred the door.
We'll just have to work it out, ' I said,
'We can't go giving up now,
I know that I love you, Sylvia,
And things will improve, somehow.'
'I love you too, but it's such a mess, '
She cried, and dabbed at her tears,
'There's not enough money to buy a house
And there won't be, not for years.'
I shelved my studies, applied for a job,
The money was not very good,
I'd studied for years, and there was I
In a sawmill, cutting wood.
I suddenly felt resentful then
To be wed to a low-paid nurse,
She'd lost that spark in her eyes that said
I love you, better or worse.
We slowly drifted apart, she'd work
An extra shift when she could,
While I would prowl in the nightclubs
Where the folk were up to no good.
I drank a lot, got bleary eyed,
Came home, hung-over and grim,
While Sylvie began to ignore me,
Often went out as I came in.
One night at a Club, I saw a girl
Blonde hair and the bluest eyes,
Dolled up in a mini skirt so short
It attracted all the guys,
She danced and shimmied around the room
And giggled and seemed like fun,
She made me think of my Sylvie
Now that the spark and the fun had gone.
Each Wednesday night I saw this girl,
But she never looked at me,
I grew obsessed as I followed her,
It compounded my misery.
I'd get up close and she'd whirl away
And dance with another guy,
I'd like to have gone and talked to her
But I guess I was feeling shy.
For weeks I had tried, got close to her
But then couldn't squeeze out a word,
I felt myself falling in love again
But knew that was quite absurd,
For Sylvie was there at the back of my mind,
I couldn't quite block her out,
But then when the blonde whirled past again
My heart would jump into my mouth.
There came the day that I followed her home,
She lived in the burbs, like me,
We both caught the number seventeen
Though she was ahead of me,
I sat at the back and hid myself,
We came to my usual stop,
Then to my surprise, the blonde stood up
Walked down the aisle and got off.
I wasn't that far behind her then
But she hurried away, and ran,
I thought it strange, and increased my pace
But she left me behind at the Strand.
She turned the corner, into my street
But then she had disappeared,
My heart was pounding, I almost ran...
Could it be what I really feared?
I walked unsteadily into the house,
But stopped at the kitchen door,
For there was Sylvie, a wig in her hand
A blonde that I'd seen before,
She grinned at me, popped her contacts out
And said, 'Hi, where have you been? '
Then laughed, and I saw my Sylvie again
As I'd seen her at just nineteen.
We made the most passionate, frantic love
With her blonde wig back in place,
'I thought that I'd teach you a lesson, ' she said,
With a sly look on her face.
And since that day I've been cured of straying,
Each time she comes through the door,
She's a blonde, brunette, a redhead yet...
What red-blooded man could want more?
8 April 2009
poem by David Lewis Paget
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Unexpected Father.
Your mother
had brought Helen
home for tea after school
and she had held on
to the handle
of the pram
your mother pushed
and you walked
along side
thinking of whether
to show her
your toy soldiers
and cowboys and Indians
and the guns
that fired
loud banging caps
or whether to just sit
and watch the TV
and eat your tea
and show her nothing
but once you got home
and your mother went off
to the kitchen to prepare
the tea stuff and such
Helen looked at you
and shyly smiled
and said
Can I see your sister's dolls
and pram
and does she have
a doll's house
I could play with?
you dismissed the idea
of showing her
the guns that fired caps
or your toy soldier collection
and took her
into the room
where you kept the toys
and pointed to
your sister's dolls
and the pram
and said
Take care
my sister doesn't like
people messing
with her stuff
and Helen nodded
and picked up a doll
and held it to her chest
and rocked it
to and fro
and walked up and down
murmuring there there sounds
that echoed softly
around the room
Where's your sister?
Helen asked
will she mind me
rocking the baby to sleep?
Guess not
you replied
and stood watching her
as she walked
and talked to the doll
in an undertone
and you stood there
hands in pockets
like a father
of an unexpected child
wondering what to say
or do and taking in
her thick lens glasses
and her eyes
seemingly enlarged
focusing on the doll
and the way her head
moved from side to side
so that her plaited hair
went from side to side
and up and down
and she said softly
and suddenly
We may have a baby like this
one day and you had better
say something more
than you are now
or I'll think
you didn't want it
and off she walked
up and down the room
and hoped your mother
would come soon
and save you from the fate
of being the father
of a doll with a dodgy eye
and a painted smile
but having a tender spot
for Helen
all the while.
poem by Terry Collett
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Coming Home For Christmas
Mrs Merryweather put coal on the fire,
while outside through the frosted windows
the snow was beginning to fall.
Christmas was only days away,
though the air raid sirens wailed daily,
they could not spoil the promise of Christmas.
Life just had to go on.
The coupons she had saved
would help them really celebrate.
It was going to be a Christmas
they were all going to remember.
She looked at the mantelpiece;
pride masked itself across her face
as she gazes at the photograph of her son.
Dressed in his uniform the photo stood pride of place.
He would be coming home for Christmas.
He had written to say he had leave this year.
It would be the first time the whole family
had sat around the table
to share a Christmas meal in years.
Ever since the war had started,
there had always been
at least one vacant chair there,
but not this Christmas of 1944.
Some maybe late in arriving,
but that did not matter a little bit.
The family, her family
were all coming home for Christmas Day.
The day before Christmas,
they slowly began to arrive.
One by one, she greeted them,
and then sat them around the fireplace
to be warmed by the coal fire’s glow.
They gathered toasting bread with a long fork,
singing popular songs
along with a radio show.
The thriftiness with the coupons
had bought a bounty store.
Everyone relaxed by the radio
as the hours crept slowly by.
Yawns began to appear
as one by one sleep captured everyone.
Mrs Merryweather was the last one to bed.
She waited for the knock on the door.
The knock that never came.
He was probably held up somewhere she thought.
He would be home for Christmas.
She knew it as he always kept his word.
Outside the moonlight danced on the falling snow,
blanketing all the footprints
that were out there.
Christmas morning came to greet them;
the snow lay thick on the ground.
Everyone felt so happy,
only Mrs Merryweather wore a frown.
Then came a knock on the door.
Upon answering it,
she took no notice
of the lack of footprints along the path.
Everyone’s face was filled with smile.
The person who stood there
was Mrs Merryweather’s son,
who had come home for Christmas
just as he had promised he would.
He told them all that unfortunately
he could only stay until sundown.
That his orders were that
then he had to go back.
The day was filled with merriment
and joyous celebration for all.
The day passed all too quickly
and sundown soon approached.
He said goodnight and goodbye
to everyone and wished them all well.
Mrs Merry weather, her smile transfixed.
She thanked God for his glorious gift
of having all her family around her
deep within the midst of war.
A few days passed when two letters arrived.
Both were postmarked before Christmas.
One was from her son saying how much
he looked forward to coming home.
The second was from the ministry
to inform her that her son had been killed
in action fours days before Christmas.
How could that be she questioned.
He had come home
and spent Christmas day with them.
Her son had indeed been killed
in the theatre of war on the day they said.
The mystery of his coming home for Christmas
is a mystery that remains today.
poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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She Might Never Know
I was sitting lonely in my car
Watching her come and go
I could feel the strings pulling my heart
From the old house,
That I used to know
Like the river that was flowing
She was coming without knowing
Our loves the river that somehow lost its flow,
Lost its flow
From my car I can see her there
As the curtain slowly moves
As he runs his fingers thru her hair
And the fire slowly grooves
Whats the answer to this pain
I want to get back to her love again
And there shes sitting in that room
When she walked cross the street
Could she feel theres a heat
From my heart as it beats with her love
In her eyes other guys
See the fair that is there
But she might never know
But she might never know
I was sitting lonely in my house,
Wanting to tell her, wanting to call
And say I know I let you down,
Without thinking, his love might fall
No more hurting, no more clowning,
This emotion, isnt drowning,
If the rivers gonna save our true love after all,
After all
Im chewing on my nails again,
With my home across the street
I aint got no place to turn to now
While youre cooking for that creep
Whats the answer to this pain
I want to get back to her love again
There shes sitting in that room
When she walked cross the street
Could she feel theres a heat
From my heart as it beats with her love
In her eyes other guys, see the fair that is there
But she might never know
But she might never know
As I turned so she waved, this was all that she gave
So what was there to trade in love
Just the past that was cast, in the groove of the move
That she might never know
She might never know
song performed by by Wet Wet Wet
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Lucky Ball Chain
I lost my lucky ball & chain
Now shes four years gone
Just five feet tall and sick of me
And all my rattling on
She threw away her baby-doll
I held on to my pride
But I was young and foolish then
I feel old and foolish now
Confidentially --
She never called me baby-doll
Confidentially --
I never had much pride
But now I rock a bar stool
And I drink for two
Just pondering this time bomb in my mind
I lost my lucky ball & chain
Now shes four years gone
Just five feet tall and sick of me
And all my rattling on
She walked away from a happy man
I thought I was so cool
I just stood there whistling
There goes the bride as she walked out the door
There goes the bride as she walked out the door
I could shake my tiny fist
And swear I wasnt wrong
But whats the sense in arguing
When youre all alone?
Sure as you cant steer a train
You cant change your fate
And when she told me of that day
I knew Id lost my home
Confidentially --
I never told you of her charms
Confidentially --
We never had a home
But this railroad apartment
Was the perfect place
When shed sit and hold me in her arms
I lost my lucky ball & chain
Now shes four years gone
Just five feet tall and sick of me
And all my rattling on
She walked away from a happy man
I thought I was so cool
I just stood there whistling
There goes the bride as she walked out the door
There goes the bride as she walked out the door
There goes the bride as she walked out the door
song performed by by They Might Be Giants
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Tall Story
There was a knock on my front door, an angel stood outside!
I looked in shock, dropped to the floor, the door still opened wide.
The angel sighed and then flew in and put the kettle on,
Aware our talk would soon begin when fainting spells had gone.
The tea was ready there for me, he pointed to the cup.
So I drank my hot tea slowly, until that time was up.
He pointed to the living room, where both of us sat down,
My mind still felt a sense of doom and gloom sure makes you frown.
The angel told me, 'Get a pen and get some paper, too! '
So I stood up, right there and then, this very thing to do.
'Write down the words that I recite, when done, I'll have to leave.'
When I began, my face was white and I could hardly breathe.
He took his time and so did I, for twenty pages long,
When done, I heaved a quiet sigh... Were my words right or wrong?
He read it all and was impressed, 'Well done, I'll leave it here.
Please get it published. Do your best. The meaning's crystal clear.'
Then he stood up, walked to the door and so I let him go.
He said, 'God bless! ' and then no more, what more was there to know?
He flew away, past roofs and trees and reached the nearby hill
And soared up higher with such ease, yes, higher, higher still.
When my scanner scanned the pages, it left me quite perplexed,
As it must have taken ages to recognise the text.
I emailed every single word, my publisher replied,
He said he'd never been so stirred, I must've been inspired.
Of course, I couldn't tell him then! He'd get me locked away!
'I met this angel, ten foot ten, at home, this very day! '
So I kept quiet, private like... The published work sold well.
I bought a laptop and a bike, but one day, off I fell.
No guardian angel raised alarm that ice was on the road,
When I fell off, I broke my arm and said, 'Well, I'll be blowed.'
When I got home, I made the tea, got fish and chips that night
And got in bed quite carefully, then prayed with all my might!
The angel knocked upon my door, I sighed then let him in.
This time, because I knew the score, I chose not to begin.
'I'll use the laptop, type it out, then save the text that way.'
The angel looked at me so proud, God's wisdom to relay.
'Well done, please get it published soon! ' I walked him to the door,
He healed my arm, flew past the moon, I waved to him with awe.
That angel's words were good as gold, he certainly had skill.
It's only now my story's told... Make of it what you will...
Denis Martindale, copyright, September 2012.
poem by Denis Martindale
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Man Walks The Streets
That old man near the traffic light
Was expelled from home at midnight.
He walked away steady on his feet.
And made his home on Delhi streets.
My driver whispered in a resigned tone.
I looked up putting down my mobile phone.
He carried on his shoulder a jute bag,
And in his hand a clean yellow rag.
As the traffic light blushed red,
The driver to stop compelled.
The old man near the traffic light,
Asked the driver –may I wipe?
He had a gentle voice and even stride,
Erect back and manner polite and mild.
Now this was his new means of livelihood,
He hoped to be paid to pay for some food.
Sahibs waved him away on their way
Down town, gearing for charades and play.
A little girl offered the man her lunch box.
Their eyes met, he looked flummoxed.
I lost my grandpa early last summer,
He went without having his supper.
You remind me somewhat of him.
Although a bit thin, she grinned.
They laughed, tears in their eyes
He took it with a bow she waved bye.
She turned and called back, Dadu
Will you be here tomorrow too?
The old man near the traffic light
Said, sure dear, I’ll be here all right.
Turned heavenwards, saw a bird alight
A rainbow walked the earth in day light?
He unabashedly cried, cried and cried,
‘I had thought my tear glands had dried’.
He wiped his face on his shirt sleeve,
A rainbow on a dreary day, I sure do believe.
poem by Mamta Agarwal
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Reunited
When I received a letter from my Dad,
Saying he didn't want to meet,
I decided to go and confront him.
I wasn't going to admit defeat.
'I told you in my letter not to come.
I thought I made that perfectly clear!
It would never work. I don't even know you, '
Were not the words I'd hoped to hear.
'It's too late, ' he told me.
'You've got your life. I've got mine.'
He was shocked when I told him
I'd lost my Mum in an accident when I was nine.
My brother, Luke, asked me to stay in touch.
He was begging me to stay,
But there seemed nothing between me and Dad,
And I thought it best for me to go away.
When I was small, we went for walks.
It was always Dad's hand I wanted to hold.
It kept me from falling.
It kept me from the cold.
I was sitting in the car ready to leave,
But took one last look out the window.
Dad was stood there. I went to him.
'Don't go, ' he pleaded. 'Please, don't go! '
As he held my hand in his
For the first time in thirty years,
I found it totally impossible
To hold back the flood of tears.
I put my head on his shoulder,
And we held each other tight.
This was the moment I'd dreamed of,
And now I was convinced the moment was right.
poem by Angela Wybrow
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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precious
She fell asleep on my shoulder.
I could hear her breathing sound.
My shoulder was getting uncomfortable
but I would not shift around.
I couldn't see her face it seemed
and even if I could
I could not tell if she dreamed?
Maybe she was dreaming of way back when
she was twenty and I was twenty-two.
Could anyone dream that far back
or was her memory gone in her dream too?
Slowly she had drifted away from me
and all that we'd ever been
was no longer our reality.
The days were long. The nights were short
and the mornings were always the same.
I looked at her. She looked at me
and asked, 'What's my name? '
I smiled at her and answered 'Precious' my dear.
'Oh' she then would exclaim.
Each day had become a sorrowful scene
and the time had finally come
when I knew I could no longer care for her.
My emotions were completely numb.
I felt her move on my shoulder
and I knew she'd come awake.
I grasped her so I could hold her.
She asked me 'Where are we going? '
I told her we're going home.
And so our lives which had once been blessed
had finally come to rest.
No more would I feel the weight of her head
sleeping on my shoulder
and the days of my life became colder.
poem by Edwina Reizer
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Love Letters
She held a pack of love letters tied with ribbons and bows.
these were the love letters that she would never show.
Every one of them was dated first to last
These were the letters that held a life past.
Times may pass and things may change
But memories stay the same.
The writing of love letters had slowly disappeared
But she held on to them from year to year.
She sat with the letters in her lap.
As the tears rolled down her eyes
He had said he would be with her
Till the day he died
And fifty years later
He met his maker
And was carried to the cemetery
by the undertaker.
The letters had been written
with tenderness and love
Proclaiming every thing
Even the stars above.
He said life was meaningless if with her
His life he could not share.
And losing her was something
he could not bear.
Now that he was gone and she
Was left all alone.
The house didn’t seem
like much of a home.
She knew her children would not understand
Why she held the love letters in her hand.
These were the memories that kept her alive
And on that she couldn’t deny.
But her mind and body was fading fast
And she knew she could not last.
So to her children she bequeathed
The letters that she cherished all her life
For that was her husband, and she was his wife.
These are the love letters that your father
Wrote to me when we were young and carefree.
He told me of all that life had to offer.
And of all the love he had for me
And that he wanted to raise a family.
When you read his letters you will know
Why I loved this man so.
And now it’s time for me to go.
Because your father awaits me on the other side
And we’ll be together for all of time
poem by Louis Rams
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Cindy, Cindy
(words & music by kaye - weisman - fuller)
Wish I was an apple dangling from a tree
Every time youd pass me by youd take a bite of me
I wish I was a bluebird Id never fly away
Id sit up on your shoulder baby and sing to you all day
Come on home cindy cindy, come on home cindy cindy
Come on home cindy cindy, come on home to me
I wrote it in a letter, carved it on a tree
Told it to a honeycomb, told it to a bee
Told them that I love you, they all know its true
Say it till the cows come home until it gets to you
Come on home cindy cindy, come on home cindy cindy
Come on home cindy cindy, come on home to me
Need you in the morning to start the coffee pot
Need you in the afternoon to fan me when Im hot
Need you in the evening when supper time is through
What Im really tryin to say is I cant get enough of you
Come on home cindy cindy, come on home cindy cindy
Come on home cindy cindy, come on home to me
If I were a musician Id harp on just one thing
You should never play my harp the way you pluck a string
If only you would love me say it and tell me so
I need two charms about me baby to have the whole world know
Come on home cindy cindy, come on home cindy cindy
Come on home cindy cindy, come on home to me
Come on home cindy cindy, come on home cindy cindy
Come on home cindy cindy, come on home to me
song performed by by Elvis Presley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I'll Be Back
Messages come, and make us suffer
A letter comes, and keeps on asking…
When are you coming?
When are you coming?
Write me when you're coming home
Without you this house is empty
The one's I trust
A form of rose
Has written me this letter
And has asked me
Someone's breaths, Someone's heartbeat
Someone's desires, Someone's smile
Someone's dull mornings, sleepy evenings
Lonely nights, unsaid words
Longing arms
And have asked her
Longing eyes
That...
When are you coming?
When are you coming?
Write me when you're coming home
Without you this house is empty
The ones with love
My best friends
Have wrote and asked me
My village, my people
Old trees, White clouds
Green grass, my soil
My celebrations, my religion
My farms, my land
My parents and
My wife has asked
When are you coming?
When are you coming?
Write me when you're coming home
Without you this country is lonely and empty
Sometimes a motherly river's letter comes by
And brings along
My childhood days, my games in the backyard
My mother's support, being protected
My mother's lullaby, the softness of her hands
The desire in the eyes, the worries in her words
Hard on the outside, Lovely from the inside
Acts my mom
And asks me in each letter
When are you coming?
When are you coming?
Write me when you're coming home
Without you my lap is empty
Hey the passing wind tell me
Will u please do a little favor for me?
Go to my state and salute to my friends
In that state there's a road
Where my wife and kids live
Just tell them that I love them
Just tell them that I love them
Further down that road
Is my old mother
Just touch her feet and
Say my name in her ear
Hey the passing wind
Just to my friends
My wife and kids,
And my old mother
Send them this message
And tell them that…
I will come home
I will come home
The promise I made to…
My soil
To its colorful nature
To my mother lap
To my blossomed flowers
And to someone's heart…
I will fulfill it
I will come back one day
This war will be over one day
I will come back one day
This war will be over one day
I will come back one day
This war will be over one day
I will come back one day
This war will be over one day
I will come back one day
This war will be over one day
poem by Kiara Davar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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In Mr Atkinson's Room
You saw Judy on the south wing
of the old folks nursing home
near to Mr Atkinson's room
carrying towels in her arms
I need to speak to you
you said
what about?
she asked
you playfully bundled her
into Bob Atkinson's room
(he was either
in the lounge
or out down town
hobbling along
for small items of shopping
or at the second-hand
book shop looking
for boy's annuals
of yesteryear
which he read
from cover to cover
before cutting out
the pictures
and sticking them
in albums)
what are you doing?
she said
what if Bob comes in?
he won't
he's out
you said
but what if he does?
she whispered
well unless I was rogering you
to kingdom come
I don't think he'd mind
you said
pressing her 5'5'' body
against the door
and looking into her
grey blue eyes
she gazed
into your eyes
and said
what do you need
to talk to me about?
I think I'm in love with you
you said
she sighed
that's the umpteen time
you've told me that
she said
she dropped the towels
on Bob's bed
and put her arms
around your waist
and drew you closer
you moved your left hand
around her back
and your right hand
on her buttocks
and said
that's because it's
umpteen times worse
or better depending
how you look at it
she kissed you on the lips
and you sensed
her tongue touch yours
her eyes closed
and you closed yours
the room becoming
a far away place
her perfume blending
into the air about you
the ticktock of Bob's
old clock on the bedside table
like some metronome
setting the pace
as if it was all part
of some song or some
deep aspect
of a Bruckner symphony
she pushed you away
and said
it's nearly break time
and people will wonder
why we're not there
and put one
and one together
ok
you said
removing your hand
from her butt
the warmth still there
her eyes still captured
in your inner self
thank you
for the Chagall postcard
I've put it on
my bedside table
along with that photo
you gave me of you
got to go
she said
and opened the door
and walked off
down the passage
you looked around
Bob's room
at the ticking clock
and the blue
candlewick cover
and the picture
of some boy
cut out of some
old annual
chasing a dog
over a field
and Judy's lips
and tongue
seemed still
to be there
in your mouth
and her hand enfolding
your waist and back
and Peter in the pants
going all slack.
poem by Terry Collett
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