Voices from the Past

To be honest there is no particular order to the poems that I post. These pieces lie stacked in a plastic box at my house or are bound in journals that I have bought through the years for the very purpose of filling them with poetry. What I have been doing is what became the genesis of this blog...I take the top poem from the stack and type it into a file on my computer. I make notes of the date written and any other information that they bring back to mind (which is surprising in its amount).

At any rate....this is the second poem that I had published. It dates back to the early 1970's. Life was pretty difficult in those days, and the writings of the time reflect that.

Here it is....from somewhere around 40 years ago...

I Am Hurt

I am hurt,

Bleed my heart,

Drain your sorrows.

The sting of bitter hurt burns

As no flame can.

There is no mending of the wound,

I know I shall die soon.

All these things I shall never see again

Was my life loss or gain?

Love hath forsaken me

Burn, lonely heart, burn.

Taste the bitter sweet of my death

Life has had its turn.

In Silence the Heart Breaks

As a pastor I see and come face to face with mourning in many different forms. In addition to all my years as a minister I also worked three years in a funeral home in New Orleans. I am familiar with death, suffering, and pain. Sometimes the griefs of others affects me more than others....This is one of two written recently as I reflected on friends who are mourning the loss of loved ones.

Lonely

How do you mourn

When there are

No more sobs;

When the tears

Are as exhausted

As the soul?

I only want

To rest

For what’s left

Of my life –

A broken

Empty existence

Without you

There is no joy

Will I ever

Sleep

Without

Reaching for you?

You’re gone

Taking the

Best of me

I don’t

Want to go on

Without you

Sometimes All You Can Do is Try

I remember this one well. I was asked to write this poem by a guy that I worked with. He'd had a fight with his girlfriend and wanted to apologize without apologizing to her. This is what I came up with.....here it is; all the way from 1886...

Regret

Words were said

And like caged birds

Flew beyond return

I never meant to hurt you

But only to express

The feelings of my heart

The questions of my soul

Together we have shared

And had many happy times

Perhaps tomorrow

We can find our smiles

From yesterday. 

For My Wife.....Can I Get Off the Couch Now?

The three (Yes, I'm up to three!!!!) readers of this blog have raised questions about my judgment in publishing poems about old girlfriends. They wonder about the wisdom, or most specifically what my wife thinks about this.

The answer is that my wife knows that I've written hundreds of poems in my life and that not every one of them is about her. A great many of them are about her, but not all of them.

We celebrated our 29th wedding anniversary on the 12th....we've actually been a couple for 33 years (It took me a long time to get her to say "I do"). I thought that it would be appropriate to post a poem about her.

And so here it is....

Dreaming

Waking from a dream about you

And hearing the quiet strains

Of a simple love song

I miss you.

Counting the hours

Until I see you again

And wondering how long

It will be until

I can touch and hold you again.

Lying in this bed

Half-realizing that in a few hours

I can see you again

My eyes start to close again

And I dream about you.

The Old Songs...

I mush confess that I am a fan of Barry Manilow's music. I have always liked it and routinely sing along with it when it comes on my music player. This poem, which I really can't remember writing, reminds me of an old Manilow song "The Old Songs."

Here's to old friends and old songs.....May they always remind us that what we have today is far better than what we had then.

Lisa’s Song

The most beautiful person in the world

Is only a quarter-mile away.

But that quarter-mile takes

Forever to traverse.

Hers is the beauty of Eve

And Venus,

For a woman like her

Troy died.

Surely none can

Compare to the beauty

These eyes have beheld.

Her voice is the breeze

That refreshes a weary soul.

I could look into those eyes

For a thousand years,

And when the millennium

Was past

Wish to look some more.

Touch me and I’m in heaven.

Heaven has given me a gift

And I’m thank you for it

My Lord.

The greatest gifts

Are the ones we don’t deserve.

Walking Wounded

I don't have  a date attached to this one and I can't quite remember the circumstances behind it, so I'll just post it anyway....

Broken Walls

Quietly marking the passage of time

With the subdued beating

Of a once strong heart

Here sits one who had conquered all

But lost it

He once stood tall

And strong against

The elements in their vain attempts

To break his soul

Then came one

Who conquered his walls

And found the fear that his

Behind them

And brought to him treasures

He have never held before

But the dark forces

Took life from his grasp

And alone he stands

Once again

Finding his only strength

In the memories of

Broken walls.