Now You Are Put To Rest
I
They opened his abdomen
found what they were not looking for
though half-expected
to see
polyps enormous cancerous mush
in lieu of
and the rest that had given out on him
They said: if we had known we wouldn't have torn into his
tripes
to see
even the sample test told us as much
but we did it for him
he so wanted it done
now we merely have to wait and see
just how long it would take him to conk out
without solid food to pass
from his newly-grafted conduite
He was completely in their hands
and hung on to their lips their every nod
their plans for him
and the use he had for their
apprentis chirugiens sorciers
He kept his anger for his friends family telephone operators
the aide-soignantes
those he could intimidate with his age
for he didn't know what they knew
they wouldn't feel the hurt the slight
for long
the rankling umbrage sans riposte
He didn't mind all the inconvenience
the constant waking to pass water
the secluded room without tv
without his wife to take it out on
without the means to exude
his usual referee's contempt of rules
In their hands he was the meek inept thing
pleading with his eyes
his whole body bent to their gaze
of wonder
of why he would so question going
now then or even a little later
II
You had said when I kidded you
'After all I'm not going to be far away'
Now you are put to rest
In a place dug and slabbed for you alone
As if you were not going to rest for good
with all the others
It is a place to a side in the pebble-strewn sidewalk
against the wall
your feet to the east
all the other feet to the south
As of a general standing to a salute from his army
There was no sight of you
The golden chocolatish-pink of your casket
made more glittering the cross
I couldn't guess if you would have wanted the Church's ornament
then the feeling of being out-of-place
thoughts of you in a cloud
We talked in suppressed tones
about you of you
trying to be polite and succeeding among uneasy fellows
here and there some unwanted details slipped in through nervousness
yet none felt your hand tremble on the racket
You were the master of the court
as now you mastered your going by the low sleek slate-grained marble
in sharply polished angular correctness
amidst shy upright cypresses and neatly cut passageways of chipped
stone
We sprinkled your tomb with Church water
Neither rain nor snow you remember could keep you from finishing
your game
Already as we turned in a column the voices now louder in the distance
They were arranging the roughly hewn stone slabs
before the marble thickened your bed
You may at last be at rest
with no one to challenge you to a test of strength
your referee's whistle holding its un-disputable silence
You came with the spring
Now you go in cheery spring
Your sollicitous voice still lingers in our courts
You knew us all by name and style at play
long before we met under your critical gaze
poem by T. Wignesan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
This Life Of Mine
Thought about it all day long
Wanted to so bad but couldn't get the courage or the strength
To pick up that knife to mark on me one more time
But I didn't I haven't seen scars from a knife in a long while
Felt like something was holding me back
All my courage just went away
And all my strength just turned into weakness
How I wanted to and needed too just to feel alive
Spending most my days wondering my life away
Wishing to be whole when all I ever wanted was a dream come true
Behind my eyes lye broken dreams
Dreams that I know I won't ever fix
But that's over and done or is it
I'm lost and confused about everything
Trying to figure out where I stand
And I'm on a emotional roller coaster and can't get off
So alone and filled with pain from head to toe
Deep down my soul is screaming
And my heart is bruised
My whole body is broken everywhere
Sometimes I wish I could go to the land of no return
Maybe then I wouldn't hurt near as bad
Maybe then I wouldn't be filled with pain or broken all over the place
Wish I knew where to begin with this life but I can't even find the starting line
March 9,2008
poem by Espn Chick
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Drunk Decisions
they say friday nights are when
wild youth go out on the
town and kick up their boots
the weekend begins so lets go out tonight
I know place, have a friend
he's a really nice guy
and it's October so the gals wear
short skirts and long lashes
I'm lucky to know who I know
but the place in my mind I
didn't want to go
now my new friends, my good
friends, now they know
three beers and two shots and
that other shit they mixed
everything was much slower
and it was fun to think
because my sight had blurred motion
i worked hard to keep focus
and convince them I could carry
on intelligent conversation
and I told them what they should have heard
because it only made sense
for my deepest darkest secrets to
be spilled like that water on her face
and I won that game, chugged half the
cup and danced in the kitchen
there were only five girls there
and the same, or more, guys
that guy's mom came home and didn't say a word
about her obvious suspicion that I was underage
as were two other girls, but the rest were
much older. I went to the bathroom like four times
it was kinda weird, but then she was crying
I didn't know why, we all had drinks and she
wanted to go home but she said she'd stay there
but she wouldn't stay alone
and i went to another house
in another bed I slept
in the morning I had little balance but
all my secrets they kept…
poem by D.M.L. Catseye
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Feeling Best
(glen sharrock)
It took a long time
But now Im gonna be laughing
A very long time
When all I could feel was sad
A very long time
But now its gonna be worth it
Cause I just found a friend to make me glad
Im feeling food, feeling better
Im feeling best
I feel a cut above the rest
Im gonna put it to the test
Feeling good, feeling better
Feeling best
Feeling good, feeling better
Im feeling best
I hope it doesnt sound like Im blowing my own trumpet
Cause all I wanna do is join up with the band
When you feel good
You gotta come right out and say it
Ive been so long at sea and Ive just seen land
Im feeling food, feeling better
Im feeling best
I feel a cut above the rest
Im gonna put it to the test
Feeling good, feeling better
Feeling best
Feeling good, feeling better
Im feeling best
song performed by by Olivia Newton-John
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Long, Long Way To Go
You held my hand and then you slipped away
And I may never see your face again
So tell me how do to fill the emptiness inside
Without love, what is life?
And anyone who knew us both can see
We always were the better part of me
I never wanted to be this free
All this pain, does it go away?
Then every time I turn around
And youre nowhere to be found
I know I got a long, long way to go
Before I can say goodbye to you
Oh, I got a long, long way to go
Before I can say goodbye to all I ever knew
To you, to you
From memory, there is no hiding place
Turn on the tv and I see you there
In every crowd theres always someone with your face
Everywhere, trying not to care
Then every time I turn around
And youre nowhere to be found
I know I got a long, long way to go
Before I can say goodbye to you
Oh, I got a long, long way to go
Before I can say goodbye to all I ever knew
To you, I wish you everythin
And all the best that life can bring
I only hope you think of me sometimes, oh
And even though I feel the pain
I know that I will love again
The time will come, oh, and Ill move on
I got a long, long way to go
Before I can say goodbye to you
Oh, I got a long, long way to go, got a long way to go
Before I can say goodbye, before I say goodbye
To all I ever knew, to all I ever knew
I got a long, I got a long, long way to go, long way to go
Before I can say, before I say, goodbye to you
Say goodbye, say goodbye
Oh, I got a long, long way to go
Before I can say goodbye to all I ever knew
Girl, I wish you the best I know, oh and all of the rest, to you
I got a long, long way to go
Before I can say goodbye to you
song performed by by Def Leppard
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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He Has risen
In Spring
A warmth came
I cannot explain
A day so special that
My words, don't describe
My amazement is confessed
What my brother did for me
I tremble to know long ago
The pain he suffered
In the Hand
And upon the wrist
On that cross there he hung
In his holy name
The earth did rung
His body, now cleaned
And resting
Placed behind
A sealing stone
Making sure he was alone
Three days passed
The lord left behind this place of rest.
poem by Howard Johnson
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The Death of Magnus Kep
It was ages since I'd seen him,
So I felt quite out of step
With the old Etruscan sculptor
That I knew as Magnus Kep,
He was brooding in an alley
By an old Byzantine store,
Then he saw me, and he beckoned,
And we walked along the shore.
He was hunting there for marble,
For his studio in Graz,
But we stopped in at a wine bar
And we sampled their Shiraz,
And he told me things he'd never said
To anyone before,
About why he searched the Holy Land,
And ruins, by the score.
'I can see their shapes within each block
Of marble, ' he had said,
'And I know that they are waiting
To be freed, because they're dead,
But they lived so long ago that they
Are patient, in despair,
Though their limbs are still as supple,
And there's fragrance in their hair.'
I was sure the heat had got to him,
His eyes had fairly gleamed,
And I thought his mind disordered,
But I listened to his theme,
He was looking for the marble
That contained the wanton form
Of a pornographic priestess
He had glimpsed the year before.
'She was lying in the harbour,
At the bottom of the sea,
Only fifteen feet of water
Separated her from me,
She had lived a thousand years
Before the walls had tumbled in
To the harbour, where she frolicked
In the service of the king.'
Then we stopped and peered over
At the slight and gentle swell,
Down and through the clear water,
There were pillars, where they fell,
There were blackened slabs of marble lying
Scorched, as if by fire,
Where the mighty Alexander
Burned the city known as Tyre!
'Can you see her there? ' he pointed,
And I saw a marble slab,
Lying half upon a pillar,
It was worn, and dull and drab,
'Do you see that haughty forehead,
Do you see her pointed breasts? '
But I only saw a weathered stone,
He conjured all the rest.
We parted, and I heard that he
Had raised that mighty stone,
Had shipped it back to Graz where he
Could work on it alone,
The seasons came and went before
I thought to follow on,
And asked about his sculpture then,
His eyes had fairly shone.
He led me to the basement and
He showed me through the door,
He'd chiseled out just half of it,
That nearest to the floor,
The woman's legs were parted and
Inviting to the king,
Her vulva gaping proudly like
Some fertile offering.
It took my breath away, I stood
And scanned those supple thighs,
Like frankincense and myrrh they were
A balm upon my eyes,
I saw that she was locked in there,
The sculptor hadn't lied,
He'd simply chipped the stone away
And there she was, inside!
I asked him then, 'How long before
We get to see her face? '
He said it didn't matter, he
Would try to lend her grace,
'She's painted like a whore, ' he said,
'Back then, it was the thing,
Her duty was to paint her face
To please her lord, the king! '
For months I sat and wondered how
She'd looked, as she emerged,
She'd lain in stone three thousand years
When Kep had felt the urge
To chisel from her marble vault
Her buttocks, waist and thighs,
Reveal again to living men
The wonder of their eyes!
I never saw Kep whole again,
Confusing? Yes, I know!
They said they'd had to lay him out
Down at his studio.
His head was in a basket, where they'd
Shown him disrespect,
To free him from the fingers she
Had gripped... around his neck!
2 July 2010
poem by David Lewis Paget
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Coffee
Sometimes life is merely a matter of coffee and whatever intimacy a cup of coffee
affords. I once read something about coffee. The thing said that coffee is good for you;
it stimulates all the organs.
I thought at first this was a strange way to put it, and not altogether pleasant, but
as time goes by I have found out that it makes sense in its own limited way. I'll tell you
what I mean.
Yesterday morning I went over to see a girl. I like her. Whatever we had going for us
is gone now. She does not care for me. I blew it and wish I hadn't.
I rang the door bell and waited on the stairs. I could hear her moving around upstairs.
The way she moved I could tell that she was getting up. I had awakened her.
Then she came down the stairs. I could feel her approach in my stomach. Every step she
took stirred my feelings and lead indirectly to her opening the door. She saw me and it
did not please her.
Once upon a time it pleased her very much, last week. I wonder where it went,
pretending to be naive.
"I feel strange now," she said. "I don't want to talk."
"I want a cup of coffee," I said, because it was the last thing in the world
that I wanted. I said it in such a way that it sounded as if I were reading her a telegram
from somebody else, a person who really wanted a cup of coffee, who cared about nothing
else.
"All right," she said.
I followed her up the stairs. It was ridiculous. She had just put some clothes on. They
had not quite adjusted themselves to her body. I could tell you about her ass. We went
into the kitchen.
She took a jar of instant coffee off the shelf and put it on the table. She placed a
cup next to it, and a spoon. I looked at them. She put a pan full of water on the stove
and turned the gas on under it.
All this time she did not say a word. Her clothes adjusted themselves to her body. I
won't. She left the kitchen.
Then she went down the stairs and outside to see if she had any mail. I didn't remember
seeing any. She came back up the stairs and went into another room. She closed the door
after her. I looked at the pan full of water on the stove.
I knew that it would take a year before the water started to boil. It was now October
and there was too much water in the pan. That was the problem. I threw half of the water
into the sink.
The water would boil faster now. It would take only six months. The house was quiet.
I looked out the back porch. There were sacks of garbage there. I stared at the garbage
and tried to figure out what she had been eating lately by studying the containers and
peelings and stuff. I couldn't tell a thing.
It was now March. The water started to boil. I was pleased by this.
I looked at the table. There was the jar of instant coffee, the empty cup and the spoon
all laid out like a funeral service. These are the things that you need to make a cup of
coffee.
When I left the house ten minutes later, the cup of coffee safely inside me like a
grave, I said, "Thank you for the cup of coffee."
"You're welcome," she said. Her voice came from behind a closed door. Her
voice sounded like another telegram. It was really time for me to leave.
I spent the rest of the day not making coffee. It was a comfort. And evening came, I
had dinner in a restaurant and went to a bar. I had some drinks and talked to some people.
We were bar people and said bar things. None of them remembered, and the bar closed. It
was two o'clock in the morning. I had to go outside. It was foggy and cold in San
Francisco. I wondered about the fog and felt very human and exposed.
I decided to go visit another girl. We had not been friends for over a year. Once we
were very close. I wondered what she was thinking about now.
I went to her house. She didn't have a door bell. That was a small victory. One must
keep track of all the small victories. I do, anyway.
She answered the door. She was holding a robe in front of her. She didn't believe that
she was seeing me. "What do you want?" she said, believing now that she was
seeing me. I walked right into the house.
She turned and closed the door in such a way that I could see her profile. She had not
bothered to wrap the robe completely around herself. She was just holding the robe in
front of herself.
I could see an unbroken line of body running from her head to her feet. It looked kind
of strange. Perhaps because it was so late at night.
"What do you want?" she said.
"I want a cup of coffee," I said. What a funny thing to say, to say again for
a cup of coffee was not what I really wanted.
She looked at me and wheeled slightly on the profile. She was not pleased to see me.
Let the AMA tell us that time heals. I looked at the unbroken line of her body.
"Why don't you have a cup of coffee with me?" I said. "I feel like
talking to you. We haven't talked for a long time."
She looked at me and wheeled slightly on the profile. I stared at the unbroken line of
her body. This was not good.
"It's too late," she said. "I have to get up in the morning. If you want
a cup of coffee, there's instant in the kitchen. I have to go to bed."
The kitchen light was on. I looked down the hall into the kitchen. I didn't feel like
going into the kitchen and having another cup of coffee by myself. I didn't feel like
going to anybody else's house and asking them for a cup of coffee.
I realized that the day had been committed to a very strange pilgrimage, and I had not
planned it that way. At least the jar of instant coffee was not on the table, beside an
empty white cup and a spoon.
They say in the spring a young man's fancy turns to thoughts of love. Perhaps if he has
enough time left over, his fancy can even make room for a cup of coffee.
poem by Richard Brautigan from Revenge of the Lawn (1971)
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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I Will Come Back For You
I'm sure I recognised her face
and I felt as if she knew mine too
I wanted to ask her where we'd met
but it didn't seem the right thing to do.
She then asked me how have I been?
as it had been such a very long while
now for some reason that made me feel uneasy
so I coughed nervously and tried to smile.
She went on to tell me so many things
that nearly knocked me off my feet
she even knew where I was living
and told me the name of the street.
She continued to talk all about my life
but I still never asked her how or why
and when I asked her where she had come from?
she smiled gently and pointed up to the sky.
'Are you my Guardian Angel then,
come down here to take me away
you seem to know all about me
even when I was a little boy at play? '
She never answered to this question
but before she left she kissed me on my head
then she just floated away from my view
the next thing I knew I awoke in my bed.
But I know that I wasn't just dreaming
as it felt so real and alive and true
and I know that she'll return again one day
because she whispered I'll come back for you.
poem by Kevin Halls
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Love Rekindled
I fondly remember when I first saw you-
It was at that Restaurant called West View.
Our parents had chosen the venue.
And as I looked over the menu,
You sauntered in much in style
Wearing a disarming smile.
In your clear gaze I saw an honest man,
And knew in a blink it was a divine plan.
In no time we were man and woman.
every moment felt like heaven.
Oh yes, we had our tiffs and fights,
But we made up by the night
In time children came,
Life after was not the same.
Tired when I slipped into the sheets,
You would tenderly message my cold feet.
Soon work took over our lives.
I was busy being a working mom and wife.
Before we knew children flew the nest,
And I was filled with unrest.
I wanted to reconnect,
But you were too busy on the internet.
Now there was no romance,
Had it slipped by chance?
Seeing the young celebrate Valentine,
I too coaxed you to take me out to dine.
We went to the same place,
Where we had met by God’s grace.
We laughed and talked,
And later hand in hand walked.
Night was chilly,
we felt young and silly.
I think that night,
Everything again felt right.
After long I felt light
And my heart soared like a kite.
Next day though you came home late,
You shyly asked will you come on a date.
poem by Mamta Agarwal
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Place Of Solitude
Everyone has a place of solitude
where the world cannot invade.
Where we can sit in silence
and enjoy our own thoughts
away from everyone.
A park bench by a pond
dedicated to someone
who liked the view.
A church pew
where people sit
and ask god to see them through.
Everyone has their own place
that gives them peace of mind.
A place to rest their weary body
and leave
the rest of the world behind.
Their own space
a place of solitude.
4 May 2008
poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Long Long Way To Go
You held my hand and then you slipped away
And I may never see your face again
So tell me how to fill the emptiness inside
Without love, what is life? And anyone who knew us
both can see We always were the better part of me
I never wanted to be this free And all this pain, when does it go away?
Then everytime I turn around And you're nowhere to be found I know
I gotta long long way to go Before I can say
goodbye to you Oh, I gotta long long way I know
Before I can say goodbye To all I ever knew, to you To you
From memory there is no hiding place Turn on the TV and I see you there
In every crowd there's always someone with your face
Everywhere, trying not to care
Then everytime I turn around And you're nowhere to be found I know
I gotta long long way to go Before I can say
goodbye to you Oh, I gotta long long way I know
Before I can say goodbye To all I ever knew
To you I wish you everything And all the best that life can bring
I only hope you think of me sometimes Oh, and even though I fell the pain
I know that you will love again The time will come and you'll move on
I gotta long long way to go Before I can say
goodbye to you Oh, I gotta long long way I know
Gotta long way to go Before I can say goodbye
Before I can say goodbye To all I ever knew
To all I ever knew I gotta long way to go
Before I say Say goodbye, say goodbye
But I wish you the best girl Oh and all of the rest to you
song performed by by Lionel Richie
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Fantastic Place
(HogarthKellyMosleyRotheryTrewavas)
[Islands are mountain-tops]
It's always a struggle
To let somebody go
It's a natural desire
To own your lover, I know
And you can screw a man down
Until he takes to drinking
He'll give you all of his money
You still won't know what he's thinking
Take me to the fantastic place
Keep the rest of my life away
Take me to the fantastic place
Keep the rest of my life away
Take me to the island
I'll watch the rain over your shoulder
The streetlights in the water
The moment outside of real life
I never could dream while I was sleeping
Put your arms around my soul
And take it dancing..
Take me to the fantastic place
Keep the rest of my life away
Take me to the fantastic place
Keep the rest of my life away
Take me to the island
I'll watch the rain over your shoulder
The streetlights on the wet stone
The moment outside of real life
Say you understand me
And I will leave myself completely
Forgive me if I stare
But I can see the island behind your tired, troubled eyes
Take me to the island
I'll tell you all I never told you
The boy I never showed you
More than I gave in my life
Take me by the hand
You'll either kill me or you'll save me
Take me to the island
Show me what might be real life
song performed by by Marillion
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Fidele's Grassy Tomb
The Squire sat propped in a pillowed chair,
His eyes were alive and clear of care,
But well he knew that the hour was come
To bid good-bye to his ancient home.
He looked on garden, wood, and hill,
He looked on the lake, sunny and still:
The last of earth that his eyes could see
Was the island church of Orchardleigh.
The last that his heart could understand
Was the touch of the tongue that licked his hand:
'Bury the dog at my feet,' he said,
And his voice dropped, and the Squire was dead.
Now the dog was a hound of the Danish breed,
Staunch to love and strong at need:
He had dragged his master safe to shore
When the tide was ebbing at Elsinore.
From that day forth, as reason would,
He was named 'Fidele,' and made it good:
When the last of the mourners left the door
Fidele was dead on the chantry floor.
They buried him there at his master's feet,
And all that heard of it deemed it meet:
The story went the round for years,
Till it came at last to the Bishop's ears.
Bishop of Bath and Wells was he,
Lord of the lords of Orchardleigh;
And he wrote to the Parson the strongest screed
That Bishop may write or Parson read.
The sum of it was that a soulless hound
Was known to be buried in hallowed ground:
From scandal sore the Church to save
They must take the dog from his masters grave.
The heir was far in a foreign land,
The Parson was wax to my Lord's command:
He sent for the Sexton and bade him make
A lonely grave by the shore of the lake.
The Sexton sat by the water's brink
Where he used to sit when he used to think:
He reasoned slow, but he reasoned it out,
And his argument left him free from doubt.
'A Bishop,' he said, 'is the top of his trade:
But there's others can give him a start with the spade:
Yon dog, he carried the Squire ashore,
And a Christian couldn't ha' done no more.
The grave was dug; the mason came
And carved on stone Fidele's name;
But the dog that the Sexton laid inside
Was a dog that never had lived or died.
So the Parson was praised,and the scandal stayed,
Till, a long time after, the church decayed,
And, laying the floor anew, they found
In the tomb of the Squire the bones of a hound.
As for the Bishop of Bath and Wells
No more of him the story tells;
Doubtless he lived as a Prelate and Prince,
And died and was buried a century since.
And whether his view was right or wrong
Has little to do with this my song;
Something we owe him, you must allow;
And perhaps he has changed his mind by now.
The Squire in the family chantry sleeps,
The marble still his memory keeps:
Remember, when the name you spell,
There rest Fidele's bones as well.
For the Sexton's grave you need not search,
'Tis a nameless mound by the island church:
An ignorant fellow, of humble lot---
But. he knew one thing that a Bishop did not.
poem by Sir Henry Newbolt
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At half-mast
You didn't know Billy, did you? Well, Bill was one of the boys,
The greatest fellow you ever seen to racket an' raise a noise,--
An' sing! say, you never heard singing 'nless you heard Billy sing.
I used to say to him, "Billy, that voice that you've got there'd bring
A mighty sight more bank-notes to tuck away in your vest,
If only you'd go on the concert stage instead of a-ranchin' West."
An' Billy he'd jist go laughin', and say as I didn't know
A robin's whistle in springtime from a barnyard rooster's crow.
But Billy could sing, an' I sometimes think that voice lives anyhow,--
That perhaps Bill helps with the music in the place he's gone to now.
The last time that I seen him was the day he rode away;
He was goin' acrost the plain to catch the train for the East next day.
'Twas the only time I ever seen poor Bill that he didn't laugh
Or sing, an' kick up a rumpus an' racket around, and chaff,
For he'd got a letter from his folks that said for to hurry home,
For his mother was dyin' away down East an' she wanted Bill to come.
Say, but the feller took it hard, but he saddled up right away,
An' started across the plains to take the train for the East, next day.
Sometimes I lie awake a-nights jist a-thinkin' of the rest,
For that was the great big blizzard day, when the wind come down from west,
An' the snow piled up like mountains an' we couldn't put foot outside,
But jist set into the shack an' talked of Bill on his lonely ride.
We talked of the laugh he threw us as he went at the break o' day,
An' we talked of the poor old woman dyin' a thousand mile away.
Well, Dan O'Connell an' I went out to search at the end of the week,
Fer all of us fellers thought a lot,--a lot that we darsn't speak.
We'd been up the trail about forty mile, an' was talkin' of turnin' back,
But Dan, well, he wouldn't give in, so we kep' right on to the railroad track.
As soon as we sighted them telegraph wires says Dan, "Say, bless my soul!
Ain't that there Bill's red handkerchief tied half way up that pole?"
Yes, sir, there she was, with her ends a-flippin' an' flyin' in the wind,
An' underneath was the envelope of Bill's letter tightly pinned.
"Why, he must a-boarded the train right here," says Dan, but I kinder knew
That underneath them snowdrifts we would find a thing or two;
Fer he'd writ on that there paper, "Been lost fer hours,--all hope is past.
You'll find me, boys, where my handkerchief is flyin' at half-mast."
poem by Emily Pauline Johnson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Lemnos Harbour
The island sleeps,-but it has no delight
For em, to whom that sleep has been unkind.
My thoughts are long of what seems long ago,
And long, too, are my dreams. I do not know
These trailing glories of the star-strewn night
Or the slow sough of the wind.
I hear the rattle of the moving car;
The children crying in the lighted street,
I walk along the same old asphalt way.
I see the church,-I hear the organ play.
I see the hills I wandered on afar,
And spots of rain at my feet.
I see the dust-strewn hedge,-the latched gate;
The gravelled path with roses either side;
The cedar tree,-my mother’s window pane.
I see the place where I sat long and late
By the trellis deep and wide.
The red Virginia crumbles at the wall.
The bed is bare where winter’s snow-drops grew.
I feel my dog come licking at my hand.
I pause awhile beside the door, I stand.
And hear the well-known footsteps softly fall
And the voices that I knew.
I slowly creep and peep beneath the blind.
-My father reads his book within his chair.
Some children play their game of dominoes.
My mother sits beside the fire and sews;
Her head is bowed. I know her eyes are kind
By the grey lines in her hair.
I tap the pane to see those tears unshed.
I see all turn, and watch them sadly stirred
By the sound, and peer to see my face without.
They see, and smile, I hear no welcome shout.
They sit and gaze as they that see the dead,
But no one says a word.
The island sleeps. May sleep come soon to me,
And lull these dreams within my shaken mind;
-These dreams that tell me I have seen the last
of those I left so,-loved so in the past.
* * *
I hear the murmur of the moving sea,
And the murmur of the wind.
poem by Leon Gellert
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Sometimes
Sometimes..
I wish I would have met you in a different time, a different place
Sometimes..
I wish you really knew how I felt
Sometimes..
I wish you could just read my mind
Sometimes..
I wish things were different
Sometimes..
I wish I had told you how I feel
Sometimes..
I wish I had let you in
Sometimes..
I wish you could feel how I feel
Sometimes..
I wish you had tried harder
Sometimes..
I wish you wouldn't have given up
Sometimes..
I wish you would just be straight with me
Sometimes..
I wish we had a different method of communication
Sometimes..
I misunderstand what you are trying to say
Sometimes..
I over react
Sometimes..
I am so utterly confused
Sometimes..
I'm so frustrated with you
Sometimes
I wish you didn't mean as much to me as you do
Sometimes
I wonder what my life would be like
If I had never met you..
Because
Difficult as it is my friend,
I hope we can remain
Good friends
Sometimes
I wonder if it means as much to you
Sometimes
I push you away
Sometimes
I wish we could just fight
Sometimes
I wonder what making up would be like with you
Sometimes
Your methods of communication or the lack there of
Leave me alone with my thoughts
And, that's just not good
Sometimes
Sometimes
I'm amazed by you
Sometimes
I'm glad it's you
Sometimes
A lot of the time
I can't help myself
I think of you
Sometimes
I write poems, like this
Sometimes
I think you know
Sometimes
I wish..
It's just
Sometimes
Many times
I wish you wouldn't hold your self back
Many times
I wish you would say...something
Many times
I wish I could go back in time
Many times
I wish I would have said yes for all the times I said I couldn't
Many times
I wish you would just make me
Tell you
What you already know
Some times I wish you knew
How many times a day
I think of you.
poem by Rabia Minhas
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Feet First
i came into this world feet first
they told my mother
out of her three sons, i would be the one
always on the run.
i'd go through life without a care
the thoughts i had, i would not share.
i never stood around long enough for
anyone to get close to me
for too much pain i did see.
i joined the army, so i would not be
close to any family.
little did i know that my thoughts would change
and from here on, i would never be the same.
i played the field with all the girls
and told them whatever they wanted to hear.
but i also made it quite clear
that i was a man on the run
and not be put under the gun.
i was like the wind, here one minute and
gone the next, and i would not be a sacrificial test.
til the day that i went to the company dance
and glanced across the floor.
there she stood proud as can be
just as if she was waiting for me.
i walked across the floor like a fox
waiting for its prey.
she looked at me, and told me to go away.
astounded, dumbfounded, i could not believe.
i did this to others, not them to me.
i sucked in the air and put out my chest
of me she would not get the best.
i walked over to her again and asked her to dance
she looked at me and said 'not a chance'
my friends tell me that you're always on the run
but with me, you will have no fun.
i was born feet first just like you
but at least i knew what to do.
i know when to slow down and make it last
i don't dwindle on the past.
you're getting older and it's time
to settle down
but not one, with whom you've found.
because you have seen a lot of pain
does'nt mean that everyones the same.
open your heart so that you could see
all the beauty thats within me.
i apologized and asked if we could
start from scratch
for my ways i had to patch.
we started it off very slow
and i knew i had a long way to go.
but if i had her by my side
everything would turn out fine.
i told my family what i found.
and that i was settling down.
then i said to my family:
this is a comical, egotistical story
there is no fame, there is no glory.
i came out on the run, and now i'm
enjoying life, and having fun.
poem by Louis Rams
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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None Of Us Would Be In This Predicament
Don't worry about them catching up.
They are still trying to locate the scent
From thoughts they claim they lost!
If they had them in the first place...
None of us would be in this predicament!
Torn between indecisiveness,
And a wake up call they are too far gone
To hear!
You can wait for them if you want to...
But neither youth nor time is on your side!
I thought you said you had things to accomplish?
Well...
I wouldn't put 'that' on hold,
In the hopes they are going to find
What they are attempting to convince you
That had in the first place!
Here...
Take these batteries for your flashlight!
We wouldn't want you to sit completely in the dark...
Waiting on a miracle!
The rest of us have decided to move on!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Thursday to Sunday
On Thursday she told me she was leaving
she wanted to get out of my sight.
She didn’t want to waste words talking about it
no discussion would put things right.
She asked me to book a flight to England
where she would make a life on her own.
It was clear that I no longer figured in her life
and she certainly made it known.
For the rest of the day she never spoke to me
and tried to avoid me in every way.
She wouldn’t listen to any of my questions,
this was a silent treatment day.
I said that this was no way to be parting,
we should talk and reach a compromise,
but she threw reasoning back into my face,
slammed doors, and much more besides.
Her mood was set for the next two days,
she never once spoke a civil word.
I had accepted what seemed inevitable
even though I thought it absurd.
I sent emails and letters to friends and family,
explaining that we had come to an end,
she had decided to break up the partnership
and didn’t want to part as friends.
At three thirty on Sunday morning
she asked if I was awake.
I said I had just woken up at that moment,
but what was so urgent that couldn’t wait.
She wanted to say something important,
so I said say what you’ve got to say.
She was sorry for the way she spoke to me
and her words weren’t intended that way.
All she wanted was to be alone for a while
and to get away from the day to day stress.
She then whispered that she still loved me,
and could I forgive her this terrible mess.
For a few minutes I thought and said nothing.
She then said, “Well, is forgiveness in your heart?
I’m sorry that the words I said came out wrong,
I do love you and don’t want us to part.”
I explained the position that she had placed me,
and that I’d made plans for a life on my own.
I’d made the arrangements to live without her,
because she insisted on being alone.
“So that’s it, ” she said, “you can’t forgive me? ”
I said, “I couldn’t go through all this again.
What’s stopping you repeating the performance? ”
She said, “I won’t it’s caused us too much pain.”
Gently, she placed her arm around me,
and I thought hard and long.
I then turned and placed my arm around her
and said, “I hope my decision’s not wrong.”
poem by Orlando Belo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Feeling
Spotted with woman's blood
I feel her smell around
Eyes starring at abyss - disappointed
- Why death and rape connect me - with it...
Her arms - pointed with long sharpens
Her face - maltreated - crooked with deadly grimace
Where should we hide
Leave stuff...How I wanted it...
No, nobody can remember eyes... - massacred...
- Face has to disappeared
No, nobody can find it... earth...cold...
- Swallowing young beauty
I felt you - connected with this body in ecstasy
I wanted - your every move sight body
You burnt me - nothing couldn't stop me
I felt close to you
You're standing next to me
You're dancing with your hands and body
My desire is growing...kiss...love sewer...
My desire is growing...sharpens...kiss...blood...love sewer...
Usual unpower Too proud - I made bloody thoughts
Jealousy - Contempt for usual creature
Feeling - is growing
Thoughts - unfinished war - pain - murder
I'm tearing you madness screw
I'm connected you with death...
song performed by by Yattering
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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