Old Mrs Truber
Always be yourself, Mrs Truber said,
Don’t be what you’re not. You sat
And studied her as she sat opposite
Stirring her cup of tea, took in her
Greying hair, her lined features, the
Way her bony fingers held the spoon
That stirred. People try to be like others
And find themselves out of their depth
And drown in the waters of lies and deceit,
She added, bringing her light blue eyes
On you. You began to speak, but the words
Were stuck in your throat. She smiled and
Tapped your hand. We are what we are,
She said, but often we are tempted to become
Actors wearing a different mask, trying to
Be a different person. You nodded slowly
And thought how beautiful she must have
Been once. Her eyes sparkled as she spoke,
And as she brushed her hand through her grey
Hair, you thought you caught a glimpse of her
Youthful self peering out of eyes like a child
Staring from windows in a locked up room.
You sipped your tea and watched as she brought
Her hands together as if in prayer. You closed
Your eyes, but when you opened them again,
The room was empty and she wasn’t there.
poem by Terry Collett
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
Sally's Goodbye
Sally got up early to find what she could wear,
Then brushed her teeth and combed her hair.
She wasn’t going outside to play,
For today was a very special day.
Sally put on her favourite dress and matching headband,
In her favourite colour she looked so beautiful, just as planned.
‘Are you ready? ’ her daddy said
‘Yes Daddy I am, I’m just making my bed.’
She held her Daddy’s hand as they walked to the car
For she knew someone was watching from afar
They got in the car and drove away
Looking at the white clouds, with a touch of grey.
Everyone was there to give her a hug and kiss
She knew it was a day that no one would miss
In her matching headband and blue dress
As she walked through the doors she said god bless.
The place was decorated just like she thought
There was just enough room for the flowers she brought
Sally went up to the front of the room
And she knew that she would see her Mummy soon.
‘Here you are Mummy, I got these for you’
She was wearing her favourite colour, which was blue.
Sally placed the flowers she carried in her basket
With all the others right on top of her Mum’s casket.
Sally was 7 years old and didn’t understand
That her mummy couldn’t see her pretty blue headband
Daddy came up and placed on some flowers
He smiled, looking at Sally, ‘she’ll know they’re ours’.
They took their seat and began to wait
Most guests were seated, some were late.
The minister talked of a woman so beautiful
A wife, a mother and all things wonderful.
Sally asked Daddy if she could say a word
It was the sweetest thing her Daddy had heard.
‘Of course you can, Mummy would be proud,
Just go up there and remember to speak loud.
Sally walked up the front and stood at the pew
She knew everyone could see her in her dress of blue.
With memories in her head and love in her heart
She cleared her throat and began to start.
‘Mummy was so beautiful and so kind,
When I did things wrong, she would never really mind.
Mummy was very sick, and now she’s in heaven
She missed my birthday, because today I’m seven.
I wore our favourite colour today, I hope she can see
I wore a matching headband, it’s nice, I think she’d agree.
Mummy, I will make sure that Daddy will smile
Because I know that we won’t be seeing you for a while
We miss you more each and every day
But I still see you in my own special way.
I close my eyes, and you are there
Smiling back at me with your long blonde hair.
I love you mummy, you’re the best mum to me
I know that this is the way it has to be
Every time I think of you I will smile
And I will see you in heaven, in just a little while.’
Sally sat down with a smile on her face
Daddy held her in a warm embrace.
‘I’m so proud of you’ Said Daddy with a tear in his eye
It’s not forever Daddy, it’s just a short goodbye.
Sally watched her mummy be carried away,
Her head held high she began to pray,
‘Dear god please take care of my mummy,
she will be the most beautiful angel there will ever be’
poem by Kayla Neil
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Judy and You and Chagall
What did you think
of the Chagall postcard print
I bought you?
Judy asked as you both sat
outside the Fox Inn
I pinned it on my wall
you replied
and stared at it every time
I entered the room
thinking of you
she sipped her drink
her eyes searching you
her hair tied behind
in a ponytail
so I gathered
by your letters
she said
putting her glass
on the small wooden table
I missed you
you said
I went to London
while you were away
and saw you
in every girl I saw
even at the ballet
at the opera house
she looked at her glass
I was only away for a week
she said
it seemed a year
you said
you inhaled the cigarette
you were holding
taking in her hair
and eyes and how
her lips moved
as she spoke
Florence was fantastic
she said
I picked out
that Chagall print for you
in one of the art galleries
who did you go with?
you asked
friends
she replied
male or female?
both
she said
you inhaled the cigarette again
and thought of the first time
you kissed her
how the moonlight
shone on her face
as you moved her around
you mustn't be so jealous
she said
I have to see others
who was the guy?
Henrik
she said
you imagined her
and this Henrik
making out
in some Florence hotel
his hands touching her
I thought of you
every moment
you said
that's sad
she said
why?
you said
because no one
should think of another
that often
she sipped her drink
and looked around
at the evening sky
how was Florence?
beautiful
she said
like you
you said
I am like Shakespeare's' lily
she said
as it withers
she added
I see
you said
and you studied
her hands as they lifted
the glass to her lips
the fingers
the skin
the way they held
the glass
did you read my letters
when you got home?
you asked
yes
she said
every single one
my mother said
I must have besotted
some poor soul
and you thought
of the Chagall print
and how you had sniffed it
for traces of her scent
and remembered
your mother's words
nothing is given forever
things in this world
are only lent.
poem by Terry Collett
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Mind Dance
I caught my reflection in the mirror
It was my own hand that ran through my hair,
I listened as my favorite artist crooned
Closed my eyes
Imagined your touch
There in the warmth of your lap,
I rest my head
My eyes stay closed
Your hand
The hand of love and warmth
Gently caresses my face,
My mouth
And slowly
Your fingers run through my hair
From the base of my roots
to the tips of the strand
You touch me,
And I am whole.
poem by Nancy Fischer
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Drying of Hair.
Jane's mother gave you both
a towel from the airing cupboard
after you had been caught
in the rain
running from the church porch
to the parsonage
and then she went off
to carry on
with her pie making
and Jane took you
along the hallway
to her bedroom
and opened the door
and after you had entered
she closed the door
with a soft click
and you both stood there
in the quiet room
rubbing you heads
with the towels
pushing away
the wetness
from your hair
and you smelt the room
the smell of polish
the lavender scent
the smell
of fresh linen
and smell of the flowers
outside caught still
in the rain
and Jane said
You are only here
because she trusts you
she seems to see through
people's veneer
and weighs them
in the scales
in her mind
and you stood still
rubbing your hair
looking at her
the way she had
the towel in her hands
over her hair
the hair all messed up
and she having
that sparkle in her eyes
like the first spear
of the sunshine
pushing through
the window at dawn
and she gazed at you
with her eyes
like polished marbles
and her words
hung there
on the air
like musical notes
on an invisible stave
and you said
I'm glad she trusts me on
just the one look
and Jane smiled
and kissed your lips
her flesh on yours
and the pressing
of skin on skin
and she gently
moved away
and pointed to the sky
and said
Looks like more rain
and you just nodded
wanting her to kiss you
once again.
poem by Terry Collett
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
But She Knew
But I know
she said
that you love me
and you were sitting
by the pond
you with that cheap fishing rod
which caught nothing
and she sitting there
her hands over her knees
gazing at the still surface
even if you don’t
say it often
she added
laying her chin
on her knees
her green skirt
just above her knees
and you caught
a glimpse of her thighs
where the skirt rose up
I do you love
you said
holding the rod
between hands
it’s just I don’t see the need
to keep on saying it
you added
stretching your eyes
to go as far
as they could
to get a better look
and she said
why do you come here
to fish when you catch
nothing except a cold
in the neck
and stiff joints
and do you want a smoke?
She pulled out
a pack of cigarettes
and you let a hand free
from the rod
and took one
and she put one
between her lips
and lit it with a pink
plastic lighter
then lit yours
and you both
inhaled and exhaled
the smoke rising
over the pond
seeming to sit there
in the still air
and she said
between drags
I do know you love me
I can feel it
in my bones
and in my tingling
flesh at night
as I lay abed
and you thought
of that image
knowing her mother
would be about
the house
with her stern features
and sharp tongue
and beady eyes
but the image was good
you thought
sitting there beside her
in silence
with the drifting smoke
over the pond
and her hand
touching you
and the sky
turning from
dull grey
to a soft blue.
poem by Terry Collett
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Booze and Mahler and Sex.
If you want to come around
she said
bring a bottle of booze
and ring the bell twice
so you brought
a bottle of scotch
and rang twice
and she opened the door
and said
come in
and so you closed the door
and followed her
along the passageway
to the main room
and you heard the Mahler playing
and she took the scotch
and poured two large glasses
and said
sit down on the sofa Honey
and she gave you the glass
and you sipped
and she sat down next to you
and put her hand
on your thigh and squeezed
and she always managed
to get you stirred
and you smiled at her
and the Mahler symphony
was playing in the background
and you associated
that symphony
with sex
and sex with her
and each movement
of the symphony
suggested a given act
and as she moved
in on you
you almost drowned
in her scent
and the scotch
was on her breath
and her blue eyes
stared into yours
and her fingers moved
into your pants
for the prize
and you wondered
who the conductor was
on the Mahler record
and the same Monet print
hung on the wall
the one of some garden
and flowers
and she said
are you ready Honey?
And you said sure
and she took you
along the passage
to her room and bed
and the room smelt
of sweet perfume
and the Mahler faded
as she closed the door
as you both dropped clothes
on the carpeted floor.
poem by Terry Collett
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Visiting Julie
Chocolates and cigarettes?
Julie says
as you sit in a chair
opposite her
in the rest room
of the hospital
in the psychiatric ward
I thought you'd prefer them
to flowers
you reply
yes
she says
flowers tend to lie
heavy in my gut
and she smiles
and you look at her there
with her dark hair
long but dishevelled
I haven't brushed my hair
or bathed yet
she says
seeing you look at her
but you can scrub my back
if you want
she says
watching you blush
best not
you say looking away
seeing out the window
a small garden
with summer flowers
but sensing
a slight movement
in your groin
at the mere thought
of her suggestion
how did you find me?
she asks
of all the hospitals
and all the wards
in this area
you managed to walk
into mine
she adds
you make me sound
like Bogart to Bacall
you say shyly
how about a drink later
down the road to the bar?
she says
You're permitted to drink
while on drugs?
you ask
studying her eyes
and her lips slightly parted
only cola
she says pulling a face
but at least it gets me
out of this place
for an hour or so
you look at her
a small stirring
still taking place
between your thighs
there's a small room
where they keep brooms
and brushes and such
where we can go
for a quickie
she says
looking at you
studiously
then breaking
into a laugh
at the sight
of your shocked face
some other time
you say
some other place
cigarette?
she asks
opening up
the pack you'd brought
you nod
and she hands you one
between her slim fingers
and you place it
between your lips
and she lights it
with a small red
plastic lighter
and you heave in
and feel the smoke
hit the back
of your throat
she inhales deep
and says
I prefer the ones
that make me float
and you see hollowness
open up in her
and her eyes
become wide open spaces
like cold winter skies.
poem by Terry Collett
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Anny In The Mall.
Anny follows just behind.
The mall is crowded but
None see her in her 1940s
Clothes. You see her and
She knows. She gazes deep
In windows of shops and
Stores takes in the bright
Lights and treasures her
Blue eyes childlike see.
But she keeps an eye on
You as often she has before
Moving eyes from you to
Shop and store. Her blue
Ghostly eyes scan the views
Of things on show in big wide
Store windows she passes by.
Her blonde hair catches the
Bright lights above her head.
She follows closer. Her hand
Almost touches yours. That
Small hand that once waved
Goodbye to mother and others
She had loved and missed now
Almost seeks out one of yours.
Her eyes search out your dull
Eyes and seem to speak her
Words in silences and small bits
Spoken fill the air: death camp.
Jew. Child. Auschwitz.1942.
poem by Terry Collett
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Innocent
Without hesitation she opened her hand,
Her father looked into her eyes;
He saw not a sign there of fear or guilt,
He knew she was not telling lies.
The thought of deceit
Had no place in her mind,
She was innocent right from the start;
Her hand opened wide
For her daddy to see,
Her eyes opened wide as her heart.
'I don't know where it is,
I've not seen it at all, '
Small defence from her lips, but it's true
That this innocent child
Made her father repent,
His apologies now, she was due.
'Please forgive my suspicions,
My harsh angry words, '
Said her father with tears in his eyes;
And to you my dear reader
The moral is this:
Simple innocence needs no disguise.
Written March 1995
poem by John Carter Brown
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
A Christmas Visitation
Anny stands by the door. Anny
Watches as your grandchildren
Open the seasonal gifts. Her blue
Eyes follow as toys are investigated
One after another. You see her there,
Her ghostly hand brushing back her
Curly blonde hair. She smiles at you
As she lifts her eyes from toys to you.
None of the others see her as she walks
About the room, her hands wanting to
Touch the toys, to finger the doll, to hold
Against her chest as once she may in
Better days before the Auschwitz death.
You sip your beer, your eyes watching
As she sits by your wife, taking in excitement
Of voices and grandchildren’s laughter,
Her bright eyes moving from you to laid
Down toys, maybe remembering her own
Childhood excitement of Jewish celebrations,
The candles, the singing, the feel of love,
The sense of awe. Speculation on your part,
You and your tender heart. Anny studies
Your wife as she talks of this and that to those
Around the room. Anny looks back at you,
Those blue eyes, that curly blonde hair, that
Ribbon tied in the hair, those 1940s clothes,
That sense of sorrow that follows her like
Perfume. You smile back and want to say
Other words you have said to her before,
But others might wonder why you speak to
One they cannot see, thinking maybe your
Dotage has taken a turn or that you’ve sipped
Too much beer in celebrational cheer. Anny
Understands these things and much beside
Since that Paris betrayal and train trip to
Icy Auschwitz where in 1942 she died.
poem by Terry Collett
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
How Beautiful You Are
You want to know why i hate you?
Well i'll try and explain...
You remember that day in paris
When we wandered through the rain
And promised to each other
That we'd always think the same
And dreamed that dream
To be two souls as one
And stopped just as the sun set
And waited for the night
Outside a glittering building
Of glittering glass and burning light...
And in the road before us
Stood a weary greyish man
Who held a child upon his back
A small boy by the hand
The three of them were dressed in rags
And thinner than the air
And all six eyes stared fixedly on you
The father's eyes said "beautiful!
How beautiful you are!"
The boy's eyes said
"how beautiful!
She shimmers like a star!"
The childs eyes uttered nothing
But a mute and utter joy
And filled my heart with shame for us
At the way we are
I turned to look at you
To read my thoughts upon your face
And gazed so deep into your eyes
So beautiful and strange
Until you spoke
And showed me understanding is a dream
"i hate these people staring
Make them go away from me!"
The fathers eyes said "beautiful!
How beautiful you are!"
The boys eyes said
"how beautiful! she glitters like a star!"
The child's eyes uttered joy
And stilled my heart with sadness
For the way we are
And this is why i hate you
And how i understand
That no-one ever knows or loves another
Or loves another
song performed by by Cure
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Marriage
Marriage for Esme began as a wide open room
with windows that let in the sunshine
and curtains so light and airy
they floated on the breeze.
Her husband's blue eyes would sparkle
with just a hint of mischief
and fun that they intrigued her,
made him special.
Then in the second year on her birthday
it seemed the room had grown dusty,
the curtains seemed dull,
the windows small.
And in the third year, without a doubt
the sun had gone down on her
and the room held a chill
like her aching heart.
By the fifth year, she'd aged,
her eyes had shadows, her skin had paled
and the room seemed small
with no windows at all.
She had shriveled, was withdrawn,
she'd sit in the corner of the room humming,
rocking back and forth, back and forth,
back and forth........
poem by Ruth Walters
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
While Hair Brushing
Juliette drags the brush
through her hair you have
to brush it at least one
hundred times her mother
had said years ago and say
a prayer each time you get
it through and maybe God
will bless you and as she sits
and brushes her hair she
remembers her mother standing
over her when she was a child
and the hair was as long then
as it is now and oh God she
says how I hated it the knots
and tangles and the number of
times I used to cry each time
she pauses in front of the mirror
the brush held mid air sometimes
when she brushes her hair and
stares in the mirror she sees him
there looking at her as he did back
then watching her every move
his dark eyes greedily drinking
her in and once he placed his
hands around her waist and kissed
her neck how she cringed his spittle
still there her uncle his breath his
hands touching always when she
was alone and once when undressing
he came in and stared and said he
thought she was becoming a beautiful
young girl now she brushes her hair
again the brush stiff and heavy gripped
in her hand and as she stares into the
mirror heavy with times and care she
thinks she sees him still staring still there.
poem by Terry Collett
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Last Song Of The Night
As we dance slowly
Heads held on shoulders
It’s the last song of the night
Holding your hand in mine
Fingers gripping each other
As tightly as we can pull together
The smell of your hair intoxicates
Our eyes close as we smile
The romance caught in a moment
Empties the room completely
To our hearts it now plays
Slowly we dance as one
Waiting for the music to fade
The last lyric to be sung
There we are all alone
Dancing to the last song
poem by Matthew Holloway
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
I Wondered What Was Next
So I wondered what was next
As I said good night
I wondered what was next
As I said good night
With head bowed and soul I prayed
These words I said
Please, send the Angels
To guard this, little sleepy head
And as I watched, I sung
Go to sleep, go to sleep
Close those little bright blue eyes
Night-time is coming
The sun is on the far side
Angels are watching
Our vigil to keep
While the Sandman is filling your eyes
It's time for you sleep
Hush-a-bye-baby
Hush-a-bye-sweet
Play time is over for your
Tiny little feet
Close your eyes, baby
Close your eyes, honey
Sleey-time's here
Good night little darling
Good night little dear
As I sung this song
I wondered what would be next
What God has done to my soul?
Because of this child, I confess
I held my daughter's child
while she fell to sleep
And it was there that I started to think
About the stories of my life, the constant agony
There had just been so dang many
The unending strife's
And just like that the tears again,
Came my way
I fought against torrential rains
As I held this child
That has caused love in my life
I fought against my memories of strife
As I struggled trying end my cares
I attemped again to find peace
But where?
A thought passed through my mind
It came almost like a nursery rhyme.
Oh hush-a-bye child
Hush-a-bye child
Look what you've become
The man that loves,
My little ones
And as I sat wondering
Where those words had Just came from?
I heard again
So hush-a-bye child
Hush-a-bye child
Look what you've become
The man that loves everyone
The man that sin can no longer
over run
So I spoke my question
With voice aloud
How can this be?
Hush-a-bye child
Hush-a-bye child
I can see
Hush-a-bye child
Leave the pains of the past
For me
For I have opened the windows
Of Heaven for thee
And poured out this blessing
With-out room enough to recieve
So (hush-a-bye child)
(Hush-a-bye child)
It's time for you to sleep
For even now I Am,
I Am
Baby tending with thee
poem by Clyde Bryson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Jane and Bullfinch Eggs
Those are Bullfinch's eggs
Jane said
pointing at
the 5 eggs
in a nest
hidden in a hedge
and as she pointed
you imagined
that some god
modelled all female fingers
on that before you
how the nail was set
so perfectly
on the finger's tip
the colour pinkish white
the skin almost blending in
we mustn't disturb
she added
or the mother bird
will fly away
and not return
oh right
you said
gazing at the eggs
once her finger
had been removed
from the hedge
you studied
the pale blue eggs
speckled there
and sensed her presence
near your cheek
the lavender
that she wore
the way her hair dark
coming to her shoulders
was tied back
from her face
some collect them
Jane said
and pierce the top
and bottom
and blow through the contents
and have them on display
do they?
you said
seeing the sad expression
she wore
why is that?
you asked
she stood back
from the hedgerow
and looking at you
with her dark eyes
said
because they must have
they have to collect
what is there
for all to see
they must just have
for themselves alone
the May sun
was shining warm
and she took your hand
in hers and walked
you on along the lane
the small stream running
by the lane's edge
her grey skirt
and white blouse
and white socks
giving her a plain look
but her eyes lit up
and she smiled again
and you wanted
at that moment
as she held your hand
for that hour
to be there forever
not to be lost
thinking you knew then
the depth of love
and not its loss
of that
and feeling sense
and not the cost.
poem by Terry Collett
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Broken Chances
My Love,
I don't know how you're going to get this,
But it is my last word on this Earth.
Just what ever you do sit alone and read this.
I want you to be at the lake where you gave me my first kiss,
I want you to sit by the tree that held us, and read this.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
You were my love, my only one person who always made me smile,
You held my hand through so many things, so many firsts.
You were my light you were my smile
And you told me the three deadly words,
The words that always kill, but first make you smile.
I have sewed my mouth shut, so you will never see me smile.
I would melt at the sound of your voice,
I would just sit and listen just to know you were really there,
I would call when you weren't home, just to hear your voice.
My wish every day was to hear you say 'I love you',
To hear your voice.
I have glued my ears so I don't have to listen to your lies.
I remember the feeling of your hands running through my hair,
You'd weave your fingers through it to comfort me,
Sometimes I would act sad just to feel your fingers in my hair,
I would silently smile and melt in your arms.
I remember your fingers running through my blond hair.
I have cut my hair so I can never remember that feeling.
U can see you standing looking at me with your sparkling eyes,
I always see you,
I can never see past those deep eyes,
I can see you smile at me, see your hands reach for mine.
I can still see your eyes.
I have cut my eyes out so I can never again fall into your deceiving eyes.
You made my heart race with butterflies, with hope.
I gave you my heart to keep, you said you'd never break it,
You gave me the one thing i needed ti keep going; hope.
And I fell for the traps, I gave you EVERYTHING.
I ave you all the hope I held in my heart, my soul.
I have stabbed my heart, just so you can't shatter what's already broken.
You became my life, you became my love, my everything.
No matter what happened I still loved you,
And no matter what I tried to give you everything,
And you made me loose so much that I'm left with nothing,
And with my dying breath I give you what was all I had left, my everything.
I take my life to show you what love really means, that it's not the lie you told.
I may not be able to smile when you hold me,
I may not be able to hear your words even if their truth,
I may not be able to remember you soothing touch, or your warmth,
I mat not be able to see your eyes, or your reaching hands,
I may not be able to press my beating heart against your skin,
I may not be able to give you a second chance, for like my heart it is broken,
But After the pain and lies, I believe in what I felt for you,
And hope maybe someday you'll believe the same, and find beauty from pain
Even with nothing left to give you but my word, I breath my last breath for you.
I lay in silence to let you live, to give to you a broken second chance,
For I will always love you,
Be............
by: Bethany Maxwell =)
poem by Bethany Maxwell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Beautiful Blue Eyes
Blue eyes so full of life
A wonder all of their own
So beautiful and precious
Oh to see those eyes smile
Such a beautiful sight
How I love to look into those eyes
When I look into them
A kind of peace comes over me
Beautiful blue eyes
Always haunting me
...teasing me
Reminding me of what I want...can't have
Why do they haunt me so
When will I be free of them
Constantly held captive by those blue eyes
Beautiful blue eyes
Always there
A reminder of what I want...can't have
Such beautiful blue eyes
Beautiful blue eyes...
poem by Grace Hays
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Grey Blue Eyes
I feel for the light
Your glory was lost that night
And no mind can't get me right
And now I'm praying that you'll find me out
Stone, stone has pulled me down
But my faith has got me bound to your grey blue eyes
Oh, oh
Oh, oh
Don't forget my broken heart
You remember it from the start
You made it and it's all a part
Of your grey blue eyes
Oh, oh
Oh, oh
You're gone and I know I'm dead
I've lost my way
Can't find me in your grey blue eyes
Grey blue eyes
Grey blue eyes
Grey blue eyes
song performed by by Dave Matthews Band
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
The next to last pew
An old man was at church last Sunday
He sat in the next to last pew
I slid into the seat right next to him
And gave a him a friendly “hi-dee-do”
He gave me a nod with his time worn brow
Then swiveled his head all around
While his gaze sized up the parishioners
His ears seemed to soak up their sound
His sad gaze seemed to pick out each person
One by one, as he seemed to stare into their soul
To some he nodded, in an approving way
While to others his look was ice cold
I asked if he was a member of this church
I said I wasn’t familiar with him, was he new?
He smiled a soft smile and shook his head no
Said “I’m here most of the time…
here in this next to last pew”
I said “what do you think of our little church”
He rubbed his hands through his hair of silver grey
Looked deep in my eyes and gave a soft, sad sigh
And said “you may not like what I have to say”
He said “ Son, I can see into the soul of these people
And to you, what I say is on the level”
That Most are fools in the eyes of the Lord
The rest are pawns in the hands of the devil
I looked all around at my fellow church-goers
Of whom he spoke, I knew of more than a few
And when I turned back to allow “that could be so”
I was all alone in the next to last pew!
poem by David Whalen
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!