Passing By
you pass by
I stare like a school boy
tempted by the fragrance
of your appearance;
you pass by
and I think about all those
I could have known...
our lives
our memories
and fragments rearranged
by faint recollections,
offered when too many
questions have been asked;
you pass by
and I understand why the
photographs have yellowed,
innocent's strong voice has
turned to a whisper and what I
once was belongs to another;
all the dreams have become
short stories told around camp
fires with make believe characters
and non-fictional plots;
you pass by
and I see opportunities unfolding
and someone holding you tenderly;
you pass by,
and I want to be the father I never had.
Remembering
in his heart he writes thoughts
by which to be remembered,
accounts of good fortune,
daydreams of successes mixed
with sadness and suffering,
his fantasies a lost reality
an unachievable enemy
a detailed account of a "wished for" life;
and, the "real world" becomes
his nemesis and he its scapegoat,
a confused purpose forces a cold
bleakness to be seen year long,
an unfaithful mistress he must wait for
never being satisfied
never letting the scrambled letters
in his heart spell out "love".
The Daughter
she spends time in her bedroom with
loud music to block out the arguing,
she strays away from home so much so
now because her parents fight with words
and statements and indifferent attitudes,
she wants to form mutual bonds with others
but the pain of missed laughter drags at
feet as she walks around anywhere and
her head held upwards hiding the
reluctance that she must return home,
she is ashamed of her parents and
embarrassed around peers even when
they were not aware of her situation,
she is a lady to be admired, living in a home
where love is scrapped off the welcome mat,
courage lives inside her determination
not to yield to the pass over of love that
she has often believed to be her fault,
from her anger she reaches out through
music to her father... to correct...
It's Their Nature
in the sky
high above my head
a naked tree
stands crooked,
a single parent
fighting for survival,
in a tree
a family of black birds I see
huddled all together
in their nest,
deep inside the hollow trunk
two squirrels cuddle for warmth,
from around her
weathered roots, the washed away
soil has left her tentative;
a good nor'easter would
uproot her in no time...
the wind plays a melancholy tune
as her branches it passes,
a companion tree was
taken years ago so the story goes
and on her own she remains,
she feeds her animal children
what she can but each year it lessens,
a month ago,
an offer for her wood was made
but nothing ever happened
and she frets one day she'll be gone...
she'll age twenty more
before this winter's over
and each day she taunt herself
to hold out until spring.
All Quite Natural
she is afraid to stand up to her daughter and
to her husband, yet, she talks back to both,
she is afraid to stand up and comfort her sister
and brother, yet, she grumbles and complains
whenever their backs are turned in other directions,
the dog and cat have trained her to respond
to their needs whenever they moan or groan
and totally consumed with her subordinate role
she withdraws with a book whenever she can,
to escape the reality of her tortured life and
see depression from inside a contained atmosphere
a restrictive environment that's been coerced
and she performs in a different style from her own,
unique and always uncomfortable and hides well
from the crowed influence of her family in
the trenches of habit and keeps busy at work;
she knows what she must do and does it
forcing herself to courage and persistence with
determination and flexibility of course as she
adopts a little self confidence and leans on
small accomplishments and learns the final
lesson that she must first stand up to herself.
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