I remember so vividly what you looked like when you were saying goodbye.
You were looking up at me with the sun in your eyes and in your hair.
You were squinting and frowning and searching for words.
I asked you why you were there and without skipping a beat you answered
“Because I might not have another chance after this.”
I didn’t want to think you were right – I wanted to contradict you,
but some part of me knew you had a point.
So I said nothing.
And you shrugged.
And you turned around and you kept saying goodbye.
And I don’t think I'll ever forget it.
Ghost in my mind
Not letting me hide
An unknown ghoul
That grips my soul
With silver fingers
And words that linger
Behind in this night
A chill, a shiver
And lips that quiver
Hands that shake
With what’s at stake
Burn and wait
Burn and wait
To cover my face
As I start to accept
Sway my heart to rest
And everything burns
As everything fades
Sounding further away
Lowered to grave
As I sigh to death
If the pen is mightier than the sword,
then how do actions speak louder than words?
Life is not like what's portrayed on the screen.
Life can be cruel.
Life can bring Hell upon you.
Life is a BITCH!!!!!!!!
Life can be cooperative.
Life can be rewarding.
Grab the bull by the horns.
Make the first move, no matter
what the situation is.
If you find an opportunity,
I guess it's time I start.
I cannot back down any longer.
Here goes nothing.
(When I was a kid)
They taught me how to
I guess they knew how
Cruel (life) is going
When I was a kid
(They all said) it (will get
The war will one day
When I was a kid
They taught me the art
(I am not a kid anymore),
But all the priest preaches I
Heard when I was a kid, are
Now making sense.
If you preach hate,
Those words are instantly
Carved in the heart.
If you preach love,
(Say it once again), it does
Not break through instantly.
Say it with confidence,
(Make me believe).
The world (may be) broken,
But (hope is) not (crazy.)
You have to read the poem the first time as a whole. Then read only the brackets.
First time writing in this style. It should also work if you read the poem without the brackets, but I'm not that good. I tried.
Last two lines are from a quote by John Green.
If I was given a day
Or whatever force there may be
It would be with you
In an empty room
and you would speak to me
I would ask no questions
Utter no words
Invisible buttons would be connecting my lips
You would speak of it all
What makes you laugh
Why you're so shy
your weak spots
If you're selfish
what side of the bed you like
hot or cold
sweet or sour
Marvel or DC
I would watch
touseling of thick hair
My heart would grow immensely
Secret. Hobby. Weakness. Preference.
watching your lips move
and your face morph
With every emotion
my heart would reach to you in sorrows
and leap at triumphs
Butterflies would become a typical occurrence
a smile tattooed on my face
that's all I desire
voluntarily trapped in a room
shedding our skin
in no way is that strange
In fact it's beautiful
I've memorised the patterns of your face,
the creasing twitches your mouth makes.
The way your hair sticks out on end,
Your slouch to wear a backpack.
The crinkle of your nose when you concentrate,
how the backs of your arms are perfectly straight.
The difference between your real smile and the one caught on camera,
the way you hide your perfect teeth.
How a single piano note mimics your voice,
singing for as long as you can hold it.
Prettier than hansom,
You're flawless, just out of a ziplock bag.
An early morning drug in your bloodstream
erases oxidized pennies under your skin.
I know the bridge of your nose, the space between your eyes,
nesting places for discouraged fingertips.
The way your spine bends at the top for the things that count,
your delicately cantilevered shoulders
giving away your mind.
Oblivious to the world around you.
Let me take a word picture of you, before it's too late.
Sandwich you between memory foam,
preserving your shapely bone structure.
Stains and formaldehyde reached for off of shelves.
Your skinny arms that are too long,
Narrow hips that sway for any melody.
The things you cheer for that you don't care about.
If we put them end to end, tell me the surface area of your apathy.
How carefully did you chose your ringtone,
to perfectly match your flannel shirt?
Buttons done up to the one that's missing,
you pick at loose threads, regretting holes you have yet to make.
Write a monologue for your own entertainment.
Other's compositions are pretty,
but give no comfort
when you’re surviving off an IV drip.
You know the sound of the words you need to hear,
whispering them to yourself when you're alone,
wearing them like an inside out sweater.
Hiding good ideas beneath your uncombed hair.
Distract yourself at a museum.
The oil paintings depicting ancient lives
hang on nails falling out of disintegrating plaster.
Wonder of the people never painted.
You let the milk at the corner of your mouth dry,
shutting the door behind you
because you weren’t expecting come back this way again.
saloon shutters swishing under attractively feminine palms.
Slender with a pelt of checks and stripes,
a spot or two inlaid on your baby face.
Hugs and teddybears lower their voices
to speak softly about siblings.
Quiet cots lie in close clusters
on tables and the ground.
Thin military surplus stores project documentaries
of what it's like to be with you.
Pressed hard to the back of high speed comfy seats
accelerating like amusement park rides.
Uttering a cry for help,
arms reach, waving.
I called your name out through the quiet crowd.
Eyes widened, turning,
hostile basketball jerseys stared
As I said my last words.
Bad posture and skinny arms
recite treaties written by irrelevants.
Vestigial memory tricks in three ring binders
mnemonics click and chatter.
Clean your palette of what's edible,
chew on tinfoil and sharks.
Adept teeth pointing backwards
towards your stomach.
Carrying ice cream sandwiches in your backpack
along with detonation codes
for bombs that don't belong to you,
melted dairy making scraps of paper sticky.
Novel scientific concepts
pill in the lining of your back pockets,
folded carelessly underneath a wad of bus tickets.
You’re becoming a miserable businessman.
Run amok with me, I may be slow,
but my sense of direction is much better.
You’re too manly to use maps,
adorably stereotypical in your square blue car.
I’m going on an adventure, won't you join me?
covertly adjust your swim trunks
to hide spilt soy sauce,
spend today smelling salty.
Take the stairs two at a time.
elegantly lean too far backwards,
plus a nudge to send you spilling off the banister.
Grab at the air with those musician fingers.
One, two, three elitists, what a sight.
Pursing your lips to draw silent judgements,
squinting your eyes and crinkling your nose,
cock your head in the mirror.
If you ever invite me to your house,
I promise I’ll look in every room.
Read your books over your shoulder,
try to understand you more.
I was broken the first day I fell in love
made up of spring blooms and teen heart songs
I gave the world such precious babes
still beating, still pulsing
through poisoned air by filthy words
and touches I was told to accept
Foul play was never pure intention
it never touches hearts
crumbling instead, dry ice in viens
colder than the frosts on late crops
you left it through summers, autumns, winters, and springs, but never gave thought to years and five, and ten, and twenty
thousand of the nights spent wondering how the secrets came flooding through the cracks of well built homes without one mention of transgression
without one mention of “how could we let this happen in the first place”
I turn away from you and begin to fall asleep,
when I feel your hand rest on the curve of my side
My skin crawls with the electricity ignited by your touch
My heart rate escalates to a speed that vibrates every cell in my being
Making me certain you can feel it in the fingertips that now sit on my hip
Goosebumps prickle every inch of my skin
I try to reach for your hand but I'm paralyzed
Paralyzed by the idea of you retreating if I move even a centimeter
My muscles become rigid as they are flooded by the adrenaline pulsing through my veins
At this point breathing is the only function I can try to control
Slow down your breathing, he'll know for sure how fast your heart is racing
Speed it up, he'll think you're actually asleep
My brain processes a million electric signals that point me towards the dead end of this makes no sense boulevard
And then the silence is broken by the softest whisper ever to reach the inner workings of my ear
"Are you awake"
The spell of paralysis that I was under is broken
I turn to face you and when our eyes meet, it's a snapshot I will forever lock away in the file marked things to hold on to
Tomorrow this will all seem like a dream,
We'll laugh and chat in front of our friends as if everything's the same
And two weeks from now when I try to put into words the electricity of this moment, it won't suffice
But right now all I want is for your lips to meet mine
And for it to make no sense
But make more sense than anything ever has
give me a line that holds all my troubles
space grows scarce for the words of tomorrow
give me a meaning in one simple phrase
i've got to many words from past days
I wont read your long poem
your song of home far away
ill feel your words of love held so dear
Yes, these are the words fit for eyes, mouth, and ear
September warmth is in the air,
That playful tapping
Of the breeze
As it winds its way
Through the laurel trees
That line Eastwind,
Up over the cobbled stone
Of Mr. Willow's
Sarsparilla Soda Shoppe.
And there he is,
Outside his storefront
Sweeping away leaves
And late afternoon
Jabe's running around
Like a bobber,
Up and about the yard,
Kicking at the nectarine tree
And demanding it
Drop its sword
And Annie tells on him
Pointing all the while,
Letting Momma know Jabe's
Gonna get himself hurt
Again if that tree
Ever gets mad.
And Dad's outside
Cleaning the windshield on the car,
Eying every streak he misses
And then giving it a name
I'm not supposed to ever say.
He hits the car again
With the garden hose
And washes her off,
Suds and soap splashing
Against the concrete
Of the driveway
As Momma hollers out
At Jabe to get his rear end
Back in the house
And get himself ready.
I go in and change my shirt.
It's hot, the best kind of hot,
And the sky is clear,
And the Summer air smells
Like a barbeque. The best
Parts of Summer always seem
To come when you're heading
Into other things - and if you
Don't keep your wits about you,
You'll miss 'em. They'll just
Wisp away like dew in the
Morning. So I get a clean shirt,
Change my shoes,
And grab my sweater
And head out.
And there's Momma holding
Onto Jabe's hand, and he's
Not too pleased. And Annie
Is holding her SusieQ Doll
And wondering about the fuss,
And Dad's smiling and shutting
The hose off and finishing those
Last few brushes across the
In just moments we're all tucked in,
Windows all rolled down,
Heading up the highway away
From the sun. Momma's got
Her pointy sunglasses on, and she's
Holding her hand out into the wind
Like a movie star. And Dad's
Shifting gears and putting his arm
Around Momma, and I see
Airplanes taking off not too far away
In an open field, those kind you pay
Three dollars for a ride on, and
They swoop you over the town
And you get to see everything lit up,
And you get to puke in a paper sack.
But that's not where we're going.
Dad just drives right on by, and
We watch as the planes and their
Pilots and the little fat kid with the red
Hair disappear into the haze.
Further up the road the lights of the town
Gently flicker away, and the sun
Rests over the horizon, and stars
Peek out overhead one by one, watching
Us I suppose, keeping an eye on the
Shiny not so new car with the three
Streaks across the windshield Dad
And the wind picks up just a little,
Still warm, still alive. And I stick my head
Out the window just to get the wind rushing
Across my face, through my hair.
Nothing like wind racing through your hair,
I thought. And I was right.
The horns brought me back to reality,
And up ahead I saw cars waiting in line,
And there was laughter, and the long
Tall green wooden fence lined the road
Half way to forever and back again.
Inside giant white unpainted signs
Stared at you, and as we pulled up
To the old man smoking on what was
Once a cigarette, he asked how many
And Dad said two adults three kids
And the old man peeked at us inside
And Dad paid a few dollars and we drove
Inside. Slowly, up and down and up again,
Like a sea of black asphalt. And Annie
Dad finally parked, and the car was
Facing up, like it was reaching up
Into the sky, except that the big white
Signboard was in our way. And outside
People were happy, had their radio's on,
Jumping, running. Other kids were there,
And we wanted to get out and run around too,
But Momma said hell no. And Dad kissed Momma
And got out and left us, and the dark grew,
And I breathed in the scent of hot dogs and
Cotton Candy and Popcorn and Pretzels and
French Fries and Hamburgers and it was
Seemed like forever since Dad had left,
And Momma got out and hoisted up a metal
Box onto the back window right beside me,
And then she got back inside and closed her
Window some. Annie asked Momma what
We were waiting for, and Jabe shoved his
Sling-Shot into my ribs and said "Stick 'em up."
And I took it away and tossed it into the front
Seat, and he cried.
Then the giant posterboard lit up some, and
Mentioned a snack bar, and I wanted to go.
After that they showed a Popeye cartoon,
And Dad made it back in time to give us all
Something to eat, say shut up, and take his seat
I'd never seen a screen so big. Never knew Popeye
Could punch Bluto and still be nice to Whimpy.
And we laughed, and the warm wind tapped against
The car, and radio's quieted down, and everyone
Was drawn to the giant picture. And we laughed.
Annie and Jabe were both asleep by the time
Dorothy made it back home. And she was telling
Aunty Em all about where she'd been, what she'd
Done. And they rolled a bunch of names,
And Dad said so how'd you like the drive-in?
And I stared at the big screen with bright,
Wide eyes, wanting more,
I didn't want the words to stop,
The story to end.
All I said was that's the biggest tv I ever saw.
And it was. And I was right.
And I guess that's when Dad
Had to laugh at me again.
Copyright © 2012 Richard D. Remler