Category: Poetry (Page 19 of 36)
Or forget
Or exclude
Those who want to be there the most? I cannot run from you, from me, from we
And I’m tired
Tired of chasing
An invisible shadow
Lost in the creation of its mind
Running from itself
From me, from we
From the nothing in her to the desire in me
The sadness shows, it grows. It’s easier to turn and fight
And absorb the blows and stitch the scars
Than it is to run from her
Or to her, chasing the shadow
Or wish for something that is not there
As the blood runs down my weary face
I wish I was them, those who seem to matter
As the pain helps me lose the thought of her. The Fighter needs no one
For the corner of his box is empty
Until the bell rings
And he meets the other lonely Soul
In a place where only one can survive
He stands and withstands
Without excuse
Fanfare is only for the champion
The beloved one. Please, my old friend Rage, come and talk to me
Raise me up and turn me to stone
A rock, hard to the touch but a treasure to the sculptor
The one who sees a treasure in the mess that I am
And loves the art more than the air she breathes. There she might caress me And turn this stone to wonder The man to god, this god to Love There is nothing in between But a blur as her hammer goes to work. Or there she might sing to me Lull me to sleep with some sweet melody Sooth the savage beast as Lovers often do. Silence. Instead. There is nothing in the darkness for me. For them, plenty. For me, the emptiness of space As I inhale he ether and pretend it has a flavor As I hear my old friend Rage calling out to me “I am here, and you will never be alone.” I smile in the rendition But sigh in the subtle resolve Gone to sleep in chaotic melancholy The Fighter, the Lover, the man Left to stray as some reluctant memory He cries, alone, waiting for the bell to ring at last Knowing that as the blows rain down from places he can’t see That darkness, sweet darkness, will be the loser’s prize. For he is nothing And he has lost without even parting from his stool It was not his fight to win He was simply the body paying the price for the heart’s own folly So now he stands Waiting for the lights to fade. ω
♥
I am not an island To be sheltered from the world To be kept isolated by a sea you have created Unsure of what is out there But needing to know all the same. What is there to hide From me my lover? What are you keeping me from As the tide crests upon the shore? The answers cause a rolling of the eyes. We pretend awash in awkward mediocrity that we bask in a light of awesome gratitude In the morbid isolation that fear creates. Yet we falter, we shrink before the embrace has even ended Our islands are not here, but where we stand separate from the truth. I do not care about excuses That would force me into the closets of your life I want freedom, I want to know to be a part of the land and sea not me But you, your world, your remarkable story. I will not settle for being anonymous In a world riddled with mediocre anonymity No, I want to be known, seen, heard and felt A reason for a smile, a cause for celebration With an ability to shout from the mountains our love without pause. For now I sit, as miserable as you With nothing left to see or do but watch the fire rage Our souls cannot cry out to us any louder Even as the song they sing creates tears in our eyes And a hole in that part where our story once lived. For now we suffer, alone in tempered misery Because we want to, we have asked for such a space A testament to our own stubborn insecurity Our own wants, our own desire, our own fears And our unwillingness to cater to each other. We are one, in our love and in our misery We are one.∞
Got this from Facebook, and it moved me to tears. Perhaps because I am not getting any younger, and I can see my life thus far following this man’s description. I wish he was around so that I could give him a hug and let him know he is loved, but alas he has passed. Maybe another lesson here is to share that Love with others while they are around to accept it? To steal a line from one of my favorite Pearl Jam lyrics (to Love Boat Captain):
“And the young, they can lose hope cause they can’t see beyond today,…
The wisdom that the old can’t give away”
Man, if we’d only listen from time to time! Anyway, I hope this has an effect on you as well.
♥
“When an old man died in the geriatric ward of a nursing home in an Australian country town, it was believed that he had nothing left of any value.
Later, when the nurses were going through his meagre possessions, They found this poem. Its quality and content so impressed the staff that copies were made and distributed to every nurse in the hospital.
One nurse took her copy to Melbourne. The old man’s sole bequest to posterity has since appeared in the Christmas editions of magazines around the country and appearing in mags for Mental Health. A slide presentation has also been made based on his simple, but eloquent, poem.
And this old man, with nothing left to give to the world, is now the author of this ‘anonymous’ poem winging across the Internet.” ~Scott Sonnon (Facebook)
Cranky Old Man What do you see nurses? . . .. . .What do you see?What are you thinking .. . when you’re looking at me?
A cranky old man, . . . . . .not very wise,
Uncertain of habit .. . . . . . . .. with faraway eyes?
Who dribbles his food .. . … . . and makes no reply.
When you say in a loud voice . .’I do wish you’d try!’
Who seems not to notice . . .the things that you do.
And forever is losing . . . . . .. . . A sock or shoe?
Who, resisting or not . . . … lets you do as you will,
With bathing and feeding . . . .The long day to fill?
Is that what you’re thinking?. .Is that what you see?
Then open your eyes, nurse .you’re not looking at me.
I’ll tell you who I am . . . . .. As I sit here so still,
As I do at your bidding, .. . . . as I eat at your will.
I’m a small child of Ten . .with a father and mother,
Brothers and sisters .. . . .. . who love one another
A young boy of Sixteen . . . .. with wings on his feet
Dreaming that soon now . . .. . . a lover he’ll meet.
A groom soon at Twenty . . . ..my heart gives a leap.
Remembering, the vows .. .. .that I promised to keep.
At Twenty-Five, now . . . . .I have young of my own.
Who need me to guide . . . And a secure happy home.
A man of Thirty . .. . . . . My young now grown fast,
Bound to each other . . .. With ties that should last.
At Forty, my young sons .. .have grown and are gone,
But my woman is beside me . . to see I don’t mourn.
At Fifty, once more, .. …Babies play ’round my knee,
Again, we know children . . . . My loved one and me.
Dark days are upon me . . . . My wife is now dead.
I look at the future … . . . . I shudder with dread.
For my young are all rearing .. . . young of their own.
And I think of the years . . . And the love that I’ve known.
I’m now an old man . . . . . . .. and nature is cruel.
It’s jest to make old age . . . . . . . look like a fool.
The body, it crumbles .. .. . grace and vigour, depart.
There is now a stone . . . where I once had a heart.
But inside this old carcass . A young man still dwells,
And now and again . . . . . my battered heart swells
I remember the joys . . . . .. . I remember the pain.
And I’m loving and living . . . . . . . life over again.
I think of the years, all too few . . .. gone too fast.
And accept the stark fact . . . that nothing can last.
So open your eyes, people .. . . . .. . . open and see.
Not a cranky old man .
Look closer . . . . see .. .. . .. …. . ME!!
Pass the tissues and learn the lesson Tom!