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Sep 2017 · 261
The way you kissed
Andrew Siegel Sep 2017
They said you were gone
Long lips and high cheeks
Longer lipstick and no goodbyes

Your eyes were like tears in the corner
Something I couldn't see
And yet you took me, in the narrow
Told me you'd be there, on hot roads
In the corner, always in the corner

You said it wouldn't hurt but you lied
Like all the times you kissed me
Silver raindrops and a smile that said
You were gone

I learned to love you anyway
Away when you told me you'd hold me
Like all the forgotten things you missed
And just another kiss you said

Ill be gone
And then this song won't matter
None of it will matter like it did
When you kissed me and told me that you're gone

Tried to tell you how much I needed
A silver face like yours
Someone to grace my days and hopes
But nothing really hurts the way you kissed me
For the last time, always in the corner
And now you're gone again forever
Jun 2017 · 197
Hello poetry
Andrew Siegel Jun 2017
Smart heart word art and
failed starts don't even begin
To express my best
Started writing again. Miss you guys
Oct 2016 · 406
Dad
Andrew Siegel Oct 2016
Dad
Euology seems a dumb word
Like the dumbfounded therapist
Or clergy, or chaplains who try
In their nature to slip words, tongues
dry and spoken  old like dust
of years left to rot in graves.
I no longer want to remember

No, I want to remember the fresh dry markers.
Memorials of the nurses who stopped the erase boards
like so many, who remembed without being reminded the way you
liked your tea.
Slipped warm slippers on feet that'd done so much


The many things that will be remembered
Are on white boards that neither he or I will keep
Jul 2016 · 425
Stay
Andrew Siegel Jul 2016
I saw you in the narrow
corner me with brown eyed glee
over the moon, under the barrows
You slipped a worn thorn through old scars
pierced my heart nonetheless
whispering to me undressed
all the secrets you kept hid so well
In the hidden heaven of our hell
And caught me on the line and hook
Buried long before we mistook
Please stay, for goodbye
And left me with the lonely question: why?
For Sara. Wherever we may be.
Jun 2016 · 471
Fare Thee Well Good Baker
Andrew Siegel Jun 2016
I called you honey bun
and you gave me ample sample
of what sweet felt like
on heart and tongue
You knew just how to please me

Simple sweat and glaze amaze
smiles and tears and soft elbows in nooks
Sunshined through your dress on days
rattled and shook my pans with a look
You showed me what it meant to want

Honeyed lips and slick with oil
Our hot crossed hours heaven spent
Tender meat and blood boil
Your flaxen strands like peppermint
All of your spices made me weak

You called me bread maker
Working the dough I didn't knead
Sifted and shook me like a Quaker
Swollowing flesh and core and seed
Then slipped on your apron and walked out my door
Jun 2016 · 823
Memorial
Andrew Siegel Jun 2016
Grandpa Tinker died a few years after I was born. I'm told he met me before he left though I was still asleep then. Lulled in a cradle, in a peace made possible by men like him. A Marine Corp officer stationed at Pearl Harbor who awoke to the sound of shouts on a day the world would never be allowed to forget. Mother said he never spoke a word about the war. Maybe that was his way of forgetting; his gift to my mother's generation was to bury that pain. He let it die inside so the fear, the anguish, the terror could not touch the ones he loved. The world gave him something he could not forget, something so painful he buried it in his heart with the memory of fellow marines and sailors in watery graves.

Grandpa Harry was a gunner on a B-29. The son of orthodox Jews, a first generation American born in New York. When he was stationed in Texas he met a young W.A.V.E. who would become my grandma. They couldn't wait for the war to end before getting married. When Granpa Harry was shot down over the Burma theatre they sent grandma a letter. Heartbroken and desperate she prayed. He and the survivors of his crew were picked up weeks later in the jungle, but not before contracting maleria. They went on to have 8 children, 3 their own and 5 adopted. Grandma always loved children. She became a school teacher. Grandpa Harry died before I was born, the world gave him something he could not forget either.

I do not like to think of the war as a battle between nations of this world. Good and evil do not fight under banners of nations, they have no borders, no anthems, only memories. They fight and die on battlefields of hearts that have buried hate, pain, and terror. My grandparents' hearts are memorials. Gleaming white tombstones on a field I cannot see, and cannot forget.
Photos of my grandparents for those interested: www.imgur.com/a/kjzzy A little late for a memorial day poem but better late than never. Thank you to all who've served.
Andrew Siegel May 2016
The road hissed under balding black
punched staccato rhythms up your back
Wind whining through the window crack
but you knew:
You knew where you were
Felt the dark spaces between
Here and there

You didn't see the car that swerved
in and out of traffic as if threading
The eyes of unseen needles.
But you knew all about needles

The car pitched upward slowly gaining
like a rollercoaster just before the drop
fighting inertia, trying to build momentum
You knew you'd never use, like your body

You didn't see the man outside the waiting room
sitting silent, motionless
Studying the ceiling with an anguished look
A prayer of supplication written on his still lips

The air was still as we suddenly felt heavy
Lifted through a concrete column in a metal box
you felt the ding as much as heard it
The doors slid open, then cool air and a new smell
Somehow more metallic than the elevator

You didn't see me close my eyes the whole way up
Didn't see the expressions I could not hide from me
Or shift my hands in my pockets, uselessly
Or my face when they told you two months, maybe three
My voice you knew all too well when
A month ago I sang in G, but all I could say now
was in a minor key, we both tired of being weary

The corridor was bright, obscenely lit in false light
not unlike the perfume of the week old roses passed
and in a moment they were threading needles in you
a perfect traffic jam of hopes choked and left
to die on the blacktop

You didn't see the church where we held the service
Or your sister and mother who, though she could barely stand
Stood by you one last time.
And I could not think of anything to say.
Had you been there you would have teased
"But you were always so good with words"
And all I could muster? "I wish you'd stay"
Andrew Siegel Sep 2015
The night before I killed myself I tried to sleep but couldn't. The mantle clock sounded second ticks long-handed. Loud, long ticks.

I climbed up on the roof. Sat on shingles layered in leaves I'd promised but never got around to blowing off. The neighbor's cat stared at me across the way. A look as empty and weightless as I felt. She meowed one plangent note before she left me there.

Dark mistletoe hung unused from lintels long ago. You and I we stood there not sure of what to do.

The night before I killed myself I built a fire. Fed it the notes you wrote.
Declerations of love turned to ash without protest. Your pleas were next, their ashes floating up in black and white.
Columns of supplication falling cold and grey.
You never want to see me again; I saved that one for last, just as you did.

The night before I killed myself I searched my contacts. Only a few remained and still it felt crowded, filled with intimate strangers who'd stopped calling long ago. I tried to count the people who might care, but I came up empty handed.

The night before I killed myself the moonlight spilled on lawns manicured through quiet dedication only suburbs can posess. I enjoyed it once. Now the silent solitude I sought ran screaming, chased by racing thoughts and guilt I could no longer place.

That night I tried to tell myself to live, while the last lights flickered in my eyes. Ash is what's left when the fire dies.
Dec 2013 · 774
Past The Lake Run
Andrew Siegel Dec 2013
she whispers to me sweetly
sleeping, quiet ecstasy
then tells me what is wrong
she needs another verse or song
I'm her puppet to be sure
I would paint the sky for her
silken strings pulled and release
silken skin bare to me
and all the stars in night's sky see
She comes to me in dreams
and **** to me in screams
but her words are painful strings
tying me to her in verse or song or chat
heads of her fore-strings make me weak
compete with her heart? To what end?
I'll begin again when quiet promise blooms
perhaps in May or March or June
then she will say words echoing from my heart
An ache that smarts might learn
From outwith her tender sorrow
comes blessings disguised
and then I will hurt her though I don't intend
See her smile and laugh again in my arms
look at me with smiles wide open to heaven
then cast a frown down to persevere
against the flow of life thrown carelessly at us both
you will know this verse when you can
understand that it's not a candy land you dropped
laborers placing wooden panels on the walls
and you in the house by the lake, watching it all
Dec 2013 · 1.1k
Anchor
Andrew Siegel Dec 2013
I don't care anymore what people think
which oddly, I've found, isn't the same
as not caring at all. Now it doesn't really matter
what transpires between you and I

Sure, you've held my head in lap and *****
I think of it often, sweet embrace and tired faces
Your laughs mock strings of heart I'd kept in silent places

Like the one I saved for "us"
Dredging anchors I'd dropped long ago
Though the chains were broken now
I'll never know how you knew
It's one secret I keep for us,though I know you don't know it
Dec 2013 · 606
Choke
Andrew Siegel Dec 2013
You knew I wouldn't see you
But it didn't hurt any less
Returning cold embraces, warm caress

I knew it was too good to
Keep you from all the buckshot
I forgot, you can't cover the spread
Now I'll have to pattern another gun

One more choke, another run
Cause you weren't true
I lied when I thought of you
Now I'll cry, but know I'll get her soon
Dec 2013 · 1.2k
Poetess
Andrew Siegel Dec 2013
She's a sultry one, I know
seducing me with words I've used before
but never felt the weight until they came
From fingers nimbly graceful as her' s

When I see her profile I smile
Knowing what her words will do
though she's a thousand miles away
she can whisper clear as day

Make me feel again all those things
I ran from and forgot (or tried to)
She reminds me that I am not
Pining alone, or uselessly

If written words were miles
and reading the same as traveling
I'd be at your front door by now
begging for one more verse
Dec 2013 · 1.0k
Broken
Andrew Siegel Dec 2013
I'd almost forgotten the blanketing beauty of sorrow
and the unbearable lightness of joy
that leaves you wondering why you were so happy
this must be what she felt when she decided to let go
I don't remember when I decided to stop trusting the world
or when that decision seemed foolishly myopic
but when I picked up my mat to walk it felt heavy
if there is miracle in healing, it is the miracle
of seeing yourself die, or at least an older version of it
then comes all the newness that really isn't new at all
like reminding myself that this is the first time
to hear our song, now that she's gone
or remember the way she loved the ocean
because I saw a seashell in a fisher's net at a restaurant
when did I ever start liking U2? Maybe she played it too much
and when did forever become yesterday?
maybe I saw the end coming, like a wave spotting another
breaking on the shore and disappearing never to be seen again
I suddenly felt my trough deepening, my crest folding
I felt my own demise inching closer to the rocks
reminding me of the pier in Longbeach where she said goodbye
they don't teach you how to have a broken heart
anymore than they teach you how to fall in love
then again, no one thought to tell the wave that it is the ocean
Nov 2013 · 627
Men who dreamed
Andrew Siegel Nov 2013
Our eyes were closed when we first began to see
though they were weak with sorrow
lit through light, though darkness still prevailed
and to him, who wandered desperately
the fire never died, though we were dead as nails
we wearied ourselves uselessly, but never without hope
Nov 2013 · 530
Want (haiku)
Andrew Siegel Nov 2013
Have you ever had a poet
**** softly at your lips
Then say bye?
I have. It hurt so sweetly.
Sep 2013 · 1.4k
The Last Stop
Andrew Siegel Sep 2013
I placed my lips on your neck, curved away from me, looking out the window
your soft hair stood up but you said nothing,
silent as the green countryside passing by.
"Where are you going?"
"I don't know", you said. It wasn't dismissive this time; it had been in the past
when we were still laughing on Princes Street and window shopping like all the other tourists.
Your insouciant smiles soothed that sinking feeling that was beginning to grow in my chest.
It was premature then but it had ripened now. All that careless energy evaporated.
I wanted to look into your eyes but I had to make do with their ghost on the glass, looking not at me
but somewhere else, or some time else perhaps.
Your hand fell on my lap warm and still. For a moment I felt like a man on the execution block
wanting desperately to stretch out time, by some alchemy turn a single moment into an eternity.
The hills no longer racing by but only passing slowly helped fuel my desperate wish.
An electric pre-recorded voice announced what I already knew it would.
You looked at me finally granting my wish. Your big brown eyes like still oceans. I could
no longer sail in them; I was drowning. You smiled a sweet smile and kissed me on the lips.
"Where are you going?"
"Away,"
I was too weak with sadness to embrace you, and I knew you knew. You got up, your soft curls
brushing against my cheek.
"Goodbye Andrew."
I counted your footsteps to the end of the car as if a number could give me power over them.
The train started up again, but I felt emptier than the car I was now sitting in.
A solitary hot tear fell down my cold cheek while I sat watching my Gypsy lover disappear into the distant green hills.
Thanks to Brook's encouragement. The only reason this is seeing the light of day.
May 2013 · 1.1k
Hazel Theives
Andrew Siegel May 2013
Your fragile eyes
carry my dreams inside
Iris prisons to explore
Swim through me lovingly
Wade and sink, nothing more

Playful eyes dancing
Like novice ballerinas
Affect clumsy grace
Seize my rhythm
And leave a smile in its place

Mourning stares
Hold back the dawn
And with me wait heavily
Broken eyes like broken sighs
know my listless heart has gone

Steely glare
Harden your iron gates
Confront me and dare
Dig recklessly and penetrate
Like razors unsheathed

What subtle truth lies
Behind those eyes
With telling lies are swollen
I've looked too long
God knows what they've stolen
Jun 2012 · 885
The Departed
Andrew Siegel Jun 2012
Silent cries
azure skies
soft goodbyes
bring them in black
to their feet...

heart skips a beat
when sorrow sought
with white tissue
cheaply bought
and cast away
to decay
with bone and earth
...
and no delay
the leader prays
a benediction
a psalm a hymn
that whittles at
the hearts of men
and tidings heal
warm tears on cool cheeks
that they may know
which way the departed go
Jun 2012 · 2.1k
Cypress Paths
Andrew Siegel Jun 2012
Still streets stir
with metallic whir
and pop on black top
with strips of rubber
wiping wet windows
and pine pollen
Oh! how they have fallen
the Cypress Creek
sacrificed for a paved path
that bares its name
without shame
and reminds dazed denizens
of all that it once was
Jun 2012 · 596
Why I Asked You to Go
Andrew Siegel Jun 2012
I wont survive the winter
in your English garden of love;
where rosebuds melt to thorns,
and benches turn to bound splinter.

Nothing left except to part
with hollow sentiments exchanged,
silly words rearranged.
No substance in them, no heart.

You aren't even there anymore
with empty concrete bird baths,
choked by brown vineyards.
No paths left to explore.

No real goodbye, just a note
explaining why in so few words,
empty even when bursting seemless.
I wonder why you ever wrote.

The darkest shadow of last November
unwinds around too calloused hearts;
until black crows flee chilled.
No summer heat left to remember.

No moon or stars beneath the cloud.
No slanderous words thrown at our feet.
No simple hymn to hum defeat.
No one even to wrap the shroud.
Jun 2012 · 506
To the dying nearly dead...
Andrew Siegel Jun 2012
The draw
   the *****
      the swift enduring rush
Of the draw...
   the *****...
       the rush...
Silenced now the world around
silenced but never hushed.
And all the things you hated
lay there restless while you waited
for the draw...
                        the *****...
                                          the rush...
And the ones who kept you fed
only cried and shook their head
for you the dying nearly dead
the draw...
                         the *****...
The swift and endless *hush!
Jun 2012 · 977
Throttle
Andrew Siegel Jun 2012
You throttle me
with warm pink eye
and grit your teeth
as if to cry
but you arch instead
and throw your head
Why didn't we do this in bed?
Soft beret, libelous libret
your naked heat
is sickly sweet
long lazy love
hot rain above
spills out below
and though we go
we came together
like a thunderous row
or a blushing feather
For Brook who inspired this poem and showed me how to embrace my naughty nature. Thanks =P
May 2012 · 640
Failure (6/30)
Andrew Siegel May 2012
Hot ash fills my mouth
choking, streaming icy tears
Victory mocks me
May 2012 · 537
Show Me Your Poetry
Andrew Siegel May 2012
I don't want to see your scars
I've got plenty of my own
I want to see the way you move
when you think you are alone

I wanna see your stars and gleam
and taste the strange lies in your dreams
and wake with you from far away
and steal your thoughts for just a day

I don't want to see your best
I want to see your world undressed
and laid out for my mind to see
Come on! Show me your poetry

I want to know how mad you got
or what you thought when you smoked ***
or when you will begin again
or why you'll lose, or what you'll win

I want to meet at your backdoor
and dig my toes into your floor
and smell your hair and wash your feet
and find out what you had to eat

I want to see your raw side
your dark, pale underbelly
and scoop you up just like the sea
Please! Show me your poetry
Apr 2012 · 519
Dreamsearch
Andrew Siegel Apr 2012
I waited for you
by the lake where you used to go
when it would snow
Autumn leaves falling on the old house
with wood paneling and empty windows
no one bothered to go there anymore
and neither did you

I chased you down the hall
the one I grew up in with the door on it
you are quicker-footed than me now
who am I kidding
you always were
and got away

I followed you through
crowds of people stood and stared
like I was naked; but not you
you were the only one who kept going
and my legs were too heavy

I hid and tried to catch you
but the moon kept getting bigger
you stopped and watched with me
cold disembodied emotion melting
that was vaguely fear and awe
but maybe something else
Apr 2012 · 864
Nostalgia (4 and 20 short)
Andrew Siegel Apr 2012
Plentiful piles of sweetened sorrow
bog the mind like fog.
Maddening melancholic malaise
beautiful and bleak; break swift and sweet
Apr 2012 · 796
Barfly
Andrew Siegel Apr 2012
When last I left you sitting here
alone with my lukewarm beer
You told me I was charming
told me scars were ****
and I felt a little nauseous
but I listened anyway
can you order a beer
so the next time I see you
I'll forget I saw that fly
on your ear? Really? Great.
Whats that?
You're drinking to forget
the ***** on my boot?
and your old man
who had the master plan
which is he on now?
b? no z? can you count?
you want to forget him
and you want to forget me
like a peppermint wrapper
cheap and negligible
that you carelessly toss
away
Apr 2012 · 715
Mom
Andrew Siegel Apr 2012
Mom
Riding the back seat is sticky
Thick hard hot upholstery
With vinyl strips that burn
But not as bad as the molten buckle
Are we there yet?
Hush!
My leg has a rectangular brand
You never told me to buckle up
I would have to teach you that later
Where are we?
Hush!
You told me it was so many hills away
Or this many Neil Diamond songs
And sang to me “You Are My Sunshine”
Although it was out of tune
And you don’t remember
I still hum it sometimes
When I’m distracted
*Are we there yet?
Apr 2012 · 962
Daydream
Andrew Siegel Apr 2012
You come to me at nap time
And show me worlds no one but me knows about
beautiful and strange
they break the bands of space and time
and slip between the twilight
of my mind
ghostly mirage lake of
beauty that I want to catch
but never can
like catching a single strand
between arthritic thumbs
I ache to spin your gold
Before the world
And show them
What my mind’s eye sees
Apr 2012 · 2.7k
Gypsy
Andrew Siegel Apr 2012
Gypsy-whippsy
                           swishing tail
trott on spindley legs
                    and drink gallons of water
the ball? No I didn't ask you to bring me the ball
            Can't you see that I'm trying to write
                                        won't you leave me alone mutt?
            but you wont you keep emploring
                                         with big floppy brown eyes
and a cold wet nose
                          the bone? NO I didn't ask for it either!
Sheesh where do you get off stealing my time
                                    since when did you pay rent?
                  I say as I toss the ball away
                         and look down at the keyboard once more
                    only to find in the corner of my eye
                                          the ball trotting back to me
                        on spindley legs
and laughing brown eyes
                           knowingly drop the ball in my lap;
                                              this is what I needed to do
                                                          writ­e now
Gypsy is my Rhodesian Ridgeback/ Hound mix that I got at the Humane Society. She's about to turn 1yr old. She's been my traveling companion for the past 9 months.
Apr 2012 · 6.5k
A 5 minute affair
Andrew Siegel Apr 2012
The thin cardboard veneer is tantalizing

I reach for you with nimble, delighted fingers

And undress you

There you are my sweetheart

I pinch your firm tan **** and place you between my lips

The spark ignites and suddenly I can taste you in my mouth

Warm, dark, mysterious you are all these things

But above all I feel you stimulating me

Every nerve in my body tingling

I’m short of breath

at last I exhale deeply

And with a sigh of pleasure and regret

I set you down in the ashtray

— The End —