Monday, December 04, 2006
Aaand a grand total of two poems! Heh. The first is my place where I grew up poem, and the second is something I have been working on the past week. Tell me what you think!
The Place I’ll Return To Someday
The air is saturated with the stories of ages
Ghosts of people I used to know
And people I will never know
Infused in the dark brown paneling.
Dark brown, and hardwood
And capiz shell windows
How can this structure withstand
The poundings and rumblings of
Toddlers running after trains
And fathers moving furniture around.
Indeed, how, when the least
Of us is numbered at four?
My grandfather knew that
Wealth is in the breadth of laughter
In one’s house long after he has gone.
Wealth is the roundness of cheek
From food that went from garden to table
It is the great number of hands to help
Sons, daughters, nieces, nephews
And the abundance of mouths to appreciate.
My brothers and sisters are as fleet-footed
As I am; we shall make the world ours.
Yet not cobble stoned cities nor palm tree
Beaches, not sienna savannahs, not
Robots or gondolas or chocolate castles
Would keep us away from our home
Where our road dusted souls would
Take their place in the walls
And whisper to our sons and daughters
The tales of our nights and days.
Nocturne and Semi-Clarity
Maybe if I let you talk to me
I'd stop feeling like a
burst balloon, but the
emptiness stems from
the sound of your voice
and everything it brings back
because moving on is
a dance of denial
and drunken pre-dawns
and forgetting has become
bitter with mute deafness.
So maybe if I pick up
to hear you say "Are you fine?"
(could you get any more
ridiculous than are you fine)
I could probably tell you
"Yeah, sure," and mean it
then could moving be
a bit more sober
and a little less worthless
and forgiving would not
play us a piano solo
