I’m keeping the celebrations up, of my two years here on WordPress. Here’s another one of my earliest poems, which was originally written seven years ago, but first posted on my blog, June 8th 2017.
Haven’t Seen You For A While
Woke up dreaming of your petite smile.
And pondering, I haven’t seen you for a while.
That generous grin, making you so cute.
So pleasing, and so alluring, seems to suit.
Dreaming of your grace and gorgeous style.
And thinking, I haven’t seen you for a while.
The glow on your face, reminiscing sweet things.
A silky smooth body, with all it’s offerings.
Dreaming of your thighs, where the harp sings.
And sensing, I haven’t seen you for a while.
The sweat of our loving, a distant past.
‘Twas pure lust, sharing to the last.
Dreaming of your love, and more tender scenes.
And realising, I haven’t seen you for a while.
Please take the time to listen to Damien Rice, sing and play live, this amazing version of his song “I Remember”
The Café Philos Poetry Prompt For Them That Be Wild Things (April 11, 2019)
Has there been a moment, time, person, event, etc. in your life that you thought and felt was so beautiful and fulfilling you would not have regretted dying after it?
Not that you would have wanted to have died, but that you would have had no regrets afterwards……… Here’s my story Paul, a tale of no regrets…………..
Olive Eyes
I’d forgotten to pump-up the car tyres
The car’s out the front
We’ve got to be going soon
The appointment note is crumpled in my hand
It’s over an hours drive to the city
My mother-in-law is waiting to see us off
She’s pensive, knowing I’m on edge
Feeling for her daughters predicament
My wife, my patient, looks at me forlornly
Her pleading olive eyes make me more panicky
Now to transfer her from our bed
Into her borrowed wheelchair
I’ve no idea, it’s my first go
Damn, the chair’s tyre’s are nearly flat too
No time now, we must leave
Another transfer into the car
I almost stumble, she’s awkward to move
She’s unsteady, her legs aren’t working
I firmly grab her around the waist
And she clasps her arms over my shoulders
A gentle embrace of respect
We wryly smile at each other
She looks at me, with her pleading olive eyes
I stay strong, but I’m anxiously shaking
Finally I’ve positioned her into the car
I somehow fold the borrowed wheelchair
Frustrated, throwing the chair into the boot
Off we drive, I’m trying not to over-speed
Nervously over-gripping the steering wheel
The whites of my knuckles plain to see
Soon we’re approaching the city centre
Agape, I’ve little idea of where to go
She looks at me with her pleading olive eyes
Bravely I say “Just a few more blocks”
Blindly lucky, I eventually find our destination
An imposing building, tall and dark grey
Ungracefully I transfer her out of the car
Wheeling her in, “damn” these flat tyres
Eight storey’s up to the Doctors rooms
He’s a renowned Neurologist, there’s none in our town
We greet him, he’s a confident, but sombre man
And my wife looks at him with her pleading olive eyes
Knowingly, I think, he’s seen those sort of eyes before
There were tests, lots of questions, and more examinations
Our time there seemed to be standing still
And silently we wait for blood results to return
Eerily the Doctor begun to speak and explain
A strange aura of hush fell upon us
As we listened to his authoritative voice
“It’s my diagnosis, that you’ve the Neurological disorder, Multiple Sclerosis”
The long hour’s drive home was stunned quiet
Except for the many rolling tears
Trickling from my wife’s pleading olive eyes
And on the road the cars tyres felt flatter
The next day, I pumped the tyres up
On her borrowed wheelchair, and on the car
That signalled the beginning of our long journey
Another thirty years of her gracious and everlasting smile
Wheeling over the lumpy roads, until the last bend
Looking at me no more, with her pleading olive eyes
Hello Dad, and happy birthday, you were the most honourable and kindest man of my life. I’ve got a lot live up to Dad, my dear friend.
**By one of my favourite writers, Colleen of, “The Chatter Blog”, a superb piece
Etched In Stone
“When your father’s name is etched in stone
It is never as indelible
As the etching in your heart” — Colleen Faherty Brown
**By one of my favourite musicians, Neil Young, and his song “Old Man”
“Old Man”
“Old man look at my life,
I’m a lot like you were.
Old man look at my life,
I’m a lot like you were.
Old man look at my life,
Twenty four
and there’s so much more
Live alone in a paradise
That makes me think of two.
Love lost, such a cost,
Give me things
that don’t get lost.
Like a coin that won’t get tossed
Rolling home to you.
Old man take a look at my life
I’m a lot like you
I need someone to love me
the whole day through
Ah, one look in my eyes
and you can tell that’s true.
Lullabies, look in your eyes,
Run around the same old town.
Doesn’t mean that much to me
To mean that much to you.
I’ve been first and last
Look at how the time goes past.
But I’m all alone at last.
Rolling home to you.
Old man take a look at my life
I’m a lot like you
I need someone to love me
the whole day through
Ah, one look in my eyes
and you can tell that’s true.
Old man look at my life,
I’m a lot like you were.
Old man look at my life,
I’m a lot like you were.” — Neil Young
