Long Goodbye Poems. These are the most popular long Goodbye by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Goodbye poems by poem length and keyword.
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He stood and aimlessly watched the parade of patrons and volunteers that wandered daily past his kennel. All so familiar, so ordinary. Just like every other day he mused. Nothing new. Nothing special.
Moving to the small crumpled blanket near the back of his cage, he turned several times and finally curled up, head on his paws, positioned so that he could watch the activity around him. But in reality, he was bored. It had been a long time since he had met each morning with anticipation. Too many days. Too much disappointment. He would leave all that barking and racing to the front of their cage to the younger pups who hadn’t figured out yet that the cute ones went first. It didn’t really make any difference what you did to attract attention if you weren’t young or cute, or both.
Too much time had gone by to participate in the charade. In reality, Walter had seen a lot of people that he would rather not spend a lot of time with. You know the type. Kind of hyper, bouncing from stray to stray, looking for a perfect dog. Kids poking their fingers through the kennel screen or banging on it. Some even making barking sounds. He didn’t need any of that and was glad when they were gone.
Walter was very picky. Set in his ways after so many years. He had had it good for a long time. An only dog in a household of two people that let him be himself. No tricks. No stunts. Just long naps and daily walks. A yard to himself to reflect on what was for dinner. He had been fond of his doggy bed in their bedroom. Each night he would help his owner walk through the house turning off the lights and checking the doors before they climbed the stairs together. And there was always one last good night pat before settling down.
But those days were gone now. First one had become ill and went to the hospital and never came back. The other one changed overnight, spending long days, sitting mostly. The walks became less frequent. Walter did what he could. He could see it in their eyes that they were hurting from their loss. He would make a point of laying his head in their lap, trying to let them know that he missed them too. At times like this, he instinctively knew that although it remained unsaid, they only had each other.
He remembers well the day that his owner snapped a leash on him and said, “well Walter, I’m afraid we have to say goodbye. I have to go to a place where they won’t let me keep you, so I am going to have to let you go.” Walter could see the tears in his eyes. He knew it would do him no good to whine or resist. It was obvious there were no alternatives. And besides, it would just make it harder on his owner. But he was going to miss him. It was not going to be easy to adjust.
But adjust he did. He had been here a long time now and had seen countless pups and dogs trot past his cage with light hearts and new owners, heading off with new found hopes and expectations. But it soon became obvious that there weren’t a lot of people that wanted an old yellow hound. Everyone wanted the young ones. So here he lay, dozing a bit, but still keeping an eye on those walking by, many giving him but a glance before moving on.
He heard them before the saw them. ”Honey” the voice said. ”That looks like Walter, old Mr. Whitney’s dog.” Walters ears perked up a little. ”Do I know them” he thought. ”They seem to know me”. I’d better go take a closer look” and with that, he stood and slowly ambled toward his kennel gate, giving a cautious wag of his tail.
“It is him” the man said. ”Walter, how you doing boy? Do you remember me?”
And upon closer inspection, Walter did remember him. He used to live right across the street. He would see him in his yard and if Walter were to ramble over, he usually had a dog treat in his pocket. With the recognition, Walter gave a little stronger wag and moved toward the fingers extended through the fencing. It was good to see an old friend.
“What do you say hon” the man said. ”How would you feel about bringing Walter home with us?”
Walter looked at the woman and saw her nod in agreement. ”You wait here and I’ll go find a volunteer.”
The man bent down and said “What do you think Walter? Would you like to go home with us?”
Actually, Walter decided, he could think of nothing he would like more. A chance to go back to the old neighborhood with people he already knew. What was there not to like.
Soon the woman returned and the gate opened. A leash was snapped on Walter and together they proceeded past the rows of dogs and puppies, all vying for their attention. Walter couldn't help but stand a little straighter, stepping a little more lightly, showing off. ”This is what going home looks like guys.” he thought. ”Good luck and goodbye”.
As they neared the car the man said “I can’t believe we found you Walter. There is someone I am going to take you to see. I can’t wait to see the expression on his face when you walk in his room>”
Walter, of course, knew exactly who he was talking about. And he couldn't wait to see the expression on his face either.
On the plane I meditated or at least I tried to. Most of the time I get a seat to myself. These days it’s just a ****ing Greyhound in the sky. I am not the most handsome man and the tattoos don’t help. I always wear a baseball cap with the logo: “Talk to Me About Jesus”. That usually steers normal people away from me. But every now and again I get a winner. This gives me a chance to discuss religion, which is one of my favorite subjects. Especially since I am in the business of sending souls to meet their maker. These people are usually high on Jesus or hooked on dope. But hey I am just an arbitrator. You pay I play. You want to make a deal I’ll deal. I owe no one my soul except me. This trip it turns out is an exception to the rule. The most handsome woman I have every laid my eyes upon sits next to me. There are other seats open but she shimmies down the aisle and says, “excuse me is that seat taken?” I try to keep my cool but I sputter out “Yes, I mean no…”
“Well which one is it?” she says with a smile.
“Not taken,” I stiffly mutter back.
Before I can stand up she squeezes past me with her butt in my face. She’s wearing a pair of tight leather pants and I don’t see any panty lines. I ask myself why are you even thinking about that? I need to get my head straight and she is a distraction. She plops down in the window seat and asks me if I can hold her drink, I dumbly reach out and take it. It’s going to be a long flight.
“So where you heading,” she asks nonchalantly
I lie and say Hawaii.
“Oh my God, I have always wanted to go there. Do you have family there?”
“No I just like pineapples.”
She looks at me again with those green eyes. She is a dark haired beauty with a hint of Boston in her voice. Jaw cut of stone and olive complexion. I am smitten.
“Your ****ing with me, aren’t you?” she asks.
“No I really like pineapples.” I reply.
“Bullshit, you wouldn’t know a pineapple if it bit you in the ass.”
“Ok I give, I’m going to L.A. to kill someone. Do you feel better now?”
She stares and her eyes’ widen and for a moment, I think she believes me.
“Ok pineapples, dead people, **** you.” She says and pulls a pair of headphones from her bag.
“Hang on,” I said, “I’m just messing with you. What’s your name?”
“Anna…Anna Virginia Collins” and she extends her hand to me.
We shake hands and she asks me my name.
“Rick Powers,” I say.
“What’s with the hat?” she asks.
“I use it to attract weirdo’s”
“Well it’s working”
I laugh and say, ”Yeah they are usually not so pretty.”
“Well thank you, and by the way I don’t believe in Jesus.”
And we are off into a full-blown discussion of religion, which keeps us talking for at least and hour. I buy her a scotch, straight up, and we share some inner secrets. Then I realize I have got to get rid of this woman; otherwise, things could get dicey and I can’t compromise my client or the job. I become belligerent and act like I am drunk…nothing. She just laughs at me.
“I know a drunk when I see one and your not drunk,” she say’s pointing an accusing finger at me.
“Ok I’m not, I need some sleep though.”
“Alright sleep then,” she mutters and puts her headphones on.
I close my eyes and feign sleep but I can’t get her out of my brain. I can hear the restrains of “Roxanne” by the Police leaking out of her headphones.
Who is this woman? Finally I drift off and dream of pineapples and Sting.
I am awakened by something on my shoulder. I slowly open my eyes to find her head resting on my shoulder; she is asleep and snoring. I close my eyes and think why now? Twenty years I have lived alone and never really had a girl friend or thought about having one. Now I am in love with this person and I don’t like it.
“Anna,” I whisper. “Anna, I love you.” Nothing.
I nudge her in the ribs and she stirs.
“Did you just say I love you?” she says sleepily.
I lie and say, “No you must have been dreaming.”
The Captain comes over the radio and tells we are about to land. The waitresses in the sky scurry up and down the aisles picking up trash and drinks. Time to hit the ground.
When we land things are awkward, I don’t know how to say goodbye. Anna hands me her card shakes my hand and says goodbye. I let her go thinking that I am better off without her, but knowing it’s a lie.
Once my boots hit the ground it’s time to round up my gear. I have shipped it to predetermined location in L.A. paid for by my benefactor. You can’t carry that *****on a plane anymore without drawing a lot suspicion. Nobody needs a 9MM Mouser to shoot rabbits in America. I rent a car and head for Huntington Beach. There are enough tourist there to allow me to blend in with the locals. I always stay at the same cheap hotel. No one remembers me because the turnover is so high that I never see the same person when I check in.
Once in my room it’s time to check my weapon. I can’t live without her. Which her am I thinking about? This is not good.
I've been hearing news about the tragic shooting in Newtown, Connecticut
which happened almost a year ago, so I decided to post my poem again as a tribute.
The tragedy was fresh and heavy on my mind when I wrote this...
The wind howls outside my balcony door
My feet are cold from walking across the floor
As I step outside to look at the snow
I know for sure I won’t be sleeping anymore
It’s 5 am … only five hours of sleep
The house is so quiet, kids aren’t making a peep
I head to the kitchen, down darkened stairs
Coffee doesn’t take very long to prepare
Back in my bed where it’s cozy and nice
I pull the covers up, my body cold as ice
My legs are warming with my notebook on my lap
I’m thankful for the company of an early morning chat
The lights begin to flicker, my internet is gone
No one to chat with, I find myself alone
I light the few candles I have sitting about
Just in time for the power and lights to go out
Buried under covers, too bad I’m alone
The coffee tastes good, it’s still kind of warm
I close my tired eyes to take time to pray
And think about what’s ahead for the day
My mind won’t cooperate, thoughts starts to wander
So many things that I start to ponder
Like funerals for those little ones, starting today*
In a town in Connecticut, so far away
yet so close to home, in a manner of speaking
I think of my children in their rooms still sleeping
My tears feel hot coming down my cold cheeks
As I think of the events of this sorrowful week
And of all the evil which has been unfurled
And tomorrow, supposedly the end of the world*
Well, maybe the end would be just as well
We’re already living in a sort of hell
No! I can’t think like that…I have to stop
I just wish I could have a direct talk with God
And find out what it is that He wants me to think
Find out why such bad things are happening
Why did those children have to die?
How will those parents say goodbye?
My heart aches so much as I look at the ceiling
I can’t imagine what those parents are feeling!
God, give me some answers! Show me the way!
What is the point of getting up today?
What is it I’m feeling…? Is it grief, or fear?
I hope in time things might become clear
Sitting in the dark as the temperature falls
The candles flicker gently, making shadows on the wall
Those candles smell good, they smell of peace
I close my eyes to try to get some sleep
Quietly there comes a stirring from within me
I could imagine God's words, through a gentle epiphany
The children are ok… they’re in a better place
Their parents have pain that I’ll help them to face
This brings me such sorrow, I am hurting too
But I’ll use this for good, I can promise you
Things happen in this life that can’t be understood
Let your heart ache for the evil, but search for the good
Remember all those things that make life worth living
Like family and friends… like serving others, and giving…
Do what you can to make the world a little better
Just spread the love… and try to remember
This world is not the end, and it isn’t your home
And neither is your body… That’s just skin and bones
There are beautiful things in store for you
I know you can’t imagine, but believe that it’s true
And tell other people, so they will have hope
It’s the only thing on earth that will help them to cope
I look out the window at the snow flying by
The sun is coming up, but gray fills the sky
I may not have the answers to all I want know
I just have to believe that God is in control
A peace comes over me like a little gift
I feel that a burden has been lifted
I still feel sad, but hopeful, in a way…
At least I think I'm ready to face another day
*Sandy Hook Elementary School shooting
From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia
On December 14, 2012, 20-year-old Adam Lanza fatally shot twenty children and six adult staff members in a mass murder at Sandy Hook Elementary School in the village of Sandy Hook in Newtown, Connecticut. Before driving to the school, Lanza shot and killed his mother Nancy at their Newtown home. As first responders arrived, he committed suicide by shooting himself in the head.
It was the second deadliest mass shooting by a single person in American history, after the 2007 Virginia Tech massacre, and the second deadliest mass murder at a U.S. elementary school, after the 1927 Bath School bombings in Michigan.
The shootings prompted renewed debate about gun control in the United States, and a proposal for new legislation banning the sale and manufacture of certain types of semi-automatic firearms and magazines with more than ten rounds of ammunition.
* Some people believed the world would end on 12/21/12 all because the Mayan Long Count calendar was thought to be reaching the end of its cycle.
PART 1: THE MEETING
Alone one night neath lantern light, I trudged a weary mile.
Forlorn, I went with shoulders bent (the storms around me howled)
until I met a Silhouette behind a sultry smile –
She gazed with eyes that mesmerize (Her body caped and cowled)
and stayed my way with question fey... ‘Why don’t you while awhile?’
The churchyard groaned, an organ moaned, the bells of midnight chimed
as wanton winds awoke and dinned, and mistrals multiplied.
A prostitute – not shrill but mute, with gestures pantomimed –
snuck by in haste, with tracks untraced, beneath the evening tide.
The Persian moon, like arced harpoon, arose and slowly climbed.
The Silhouette (a pale brunette) arched eyebrows meant to please,
and down the lanes, twixt windowpanes, the shadows danced and sighed.
A meadowlark within the dark, somewhere beyond the breeze,
embellished Her with wisps of myrrh while deigning to confide
to nightingales the whispered tales of human vanities.
She doffed her cloak before She spoke with tunes of sorrow sung
(like mandolins, as night begins, when mourning day’s demise)
and spun Her tale of grim travail and tears She'd shed when young.
As jagged volts of thunderbolts lit up the dismal skies,
the creeping fog concealed a bog in coils of curling tongues.
Through summer vales and winter gales Her secret thoughts were voiced.
Midst storms so cruel (neath lightning’s jewel that glistered on the ridge)
She reminisced, She touched... we kissed... Her lips were wet and moist.
A lighthouse dimmed, while moonbeams skimmed across a distant bridge
to avenues where residues of shallow shades rejoiced.
PART 2: HER TRAGIC TALE
“Midst sweet perfume of youthful bloom, the lonely spirit braves
and often cries and sometimes dies in quest of her amour.”
While starry-eyed, a ship I spied, a’ sail upon the waves –
The galleon docked, the seagulls flocked, the Captain swept ashore
where, debonair with gypsy flair, he led his salty knaves.
While passing by, he caught my eye – I tried to hide a blush,
for ambiance of innocence leaves fire’s ice congealed.
His gaze (defined by eyes that shined) beheld my cheek a’ flush.
I bowed my head while caution fled, I felt my fate was sealed
– a bird in spring with fledgling wing – he’d snared a falling thrush.
He said ‘Hello’ – I answered ‘No’ and yet before he’d gone
said I, ‘I’ll wait at Heaven’s Gate not far beyond the Pale’.
At dusk he came neath moon aflame, and left before the dawn
just humming tunes along the dunes that lined the sandy trail
beside a pond where morning yawned, where swam an ebon swan.
We met again, and once again, and once again, again
entangled in a love called sin, in whirls of make-believe.
While in my arms, with voice that charms, said he ‘I must explain –
the tide awaits at morning’s gates and I must take my leave’.
Then tempests formed and vapors swarmed in ardor’s hurricane.
‘Forsake your home and we may roam’ he smiled as if to tease
and still naive, said I ‘I’ll leave, in silver buckled shoes’.
He took the helm in search of realms, before the morning breeze –
with tearful eyes, I bade goodbyes with fare-thee-well adieus
and sailed above a wave of love across the seven seas.
We swept one morn around Cape Horn and sped for Gold Coast Bay.
With naught to reck, I strolled on deck, a baby at my breast,
while zephyrs blew and seagulls flew above the ocean’s spray.
Our ship soon moored, we went ashore and off to Fortune’s Quest –
with gold doubloons which shone like moons, he gambled through the day.
Two deuces wild... he thinly smiled... another card was drawn –
he called and raised with eyes half glazed, was dealt a dismal three.
With betting tight throughout the night, the final ace was gone
and so he lost... at what a cost... alas the prize was me –
with empty bag and pauper’s swag, he left me doomed at dawn.
A buccaneer with ring in ear sneered ‘now, my dear, you’re mine’.
He held my wrists to thwart my fists and then... my honor stained.
In midnight’s swash, the sky awash with tiny tears of brine,
I broke his clutch with nothing much of me that still remained:
a residue when he was through, left clinging to a vine.
In morning dew, the good folks knew, and spurned me in my plight.
The preacher man pronounced a ban and wouldn’t condescend,
ignored my pleas on bended knees and prayers by candlelight.
While cast aside, my baby died... my world was at an end.
Until this day, I’ve made my way beneath the shades of night.
Continued in Part 3
Under a tree of wet blossoms, shimmering to life in the sun, one honey bee is circling around two burly men, who wave it off, with childlike dramatics...arms flailing. One of them, wearing heavy leather boots, leaves his deep imprints in the grass, still wet from yesterday's storm. I wince, as the toe of his left boot squashes a purple pansy that is growing along the border. Oh dear, her prized flowers,....they are like her babies! She has always had the greenest, thumb..and the prettiest yard on the block!
a white blossom rush hour traffic... a crushed pansy
lands on her shoulder.... bees circle the tree still beautiful in my palm...
a goodbye gesture droning with noise lines in her face
Both men seem irritated, and anxious to get on the road, as they stand next to the giant truck, which is parked against the curb. The shorter man, nurtures a butt of a cigarette between gloved fingers with such intensity, it's as if he were sentenced to be hanged at noon, and this was a final puff. He inhales deeply, then, after a careless toss of the stub, they both climb aboard, into the cab, and squeeze their husky frames into the cab, like two coiled Slinkys , ready to spring into action. They start up the engine, and trails of cigarette smoke are left to mingle with cloud-white petals, that drift from the tree.
smoke spirals up from a spent cigarette...... truck coughs black exhaust
two nosy neighbors watch from dark windows.... crows gather on grapevine
The moving van,... a huge, battered dinosaur, wearing a big red proclamation, "TWO BROTHERS-VAN AND STORAGE",... looks so out of place, parked along my street. I begin to feel it vibrate the sidewalk and it deafens our ears. Slowly, it begins to roll, and we watch, as it lazily, lumbers down the familiar street. It turns the corner, and disappears out of sight. I lean over to grab her hand, and she is crying
and I find myself breaking the promise not to.
muddy truck tires....
follow from behind
I suppose it shouldn't matter to me now, but can't resist, and lean down to pick up the discarded, lifeless cigarette butt, and walk it over next door, to the trash can, that still waits for Thursday's pick-up. I blow my nose and dry my eyes. It won't help her, if she sees me fall apart.
I remember the day she moved in, over twenty years ago.
We were strangers then, ...but sisters we became.
Now it seems all those years are packaged up inside those cardboard boxes, wrapped in newsprint, taped shut, now moving on to another state, to somewhere I don't belong.
Her husband gently clears his throat, as he patiently waits by their car, giving her one last moment.
Her eyes glisten with tears. Mine sting too...but I had promised I wouldn't cry...so I am biting my bottom lip. A quick hug.. "Yes...we'll write...we'll visit...we'll call!
Soon! I promise,.........soon!"
She hands me a box of tulip bulbs. "These are the red ones... the ones you loved so much, something to remember me by."... I want to plant some in the new place, but have been saving some for you too"...
"Next year when they bloom, think of me, will you? A part of me to keep you company."
She walks to her packed car, turns once more with that familiar smile, the same little wave, that she gave me on that very first morning, as she stood at her mailbox. She jumps in next to her waiting husband. He starts the engine, and soon their car is heading down the street, that is no longer her street. Around the turn at the corner, that is no longer her corner
Tomorrow the SOLD sign comes down.
Perhaps a new wave, another smile, someone gathering mail ...will brighten my day.
But today, .....I will plant some tulips.
my garden awakes coffee brings comfort
from muddy slumber.... sipped from her favorite cup ...
lively red tulips my cat for company
For Deb's Contest: Spring haibun
I shall not live as in a room of red.
I was not born to be what others presume
And stay within that state until I am dead;
Punished within my own hellish doom,
Scratching at the walls that others build
And those which I construct to block them out
Until my world becomes so cold and chilled
Or in the darkness I dare not move about.
Who is not God that looks upon my form
And sees a child that never will a Lady be;
Will never visit peace where truth is sworn,
Forever cursed to live among the Reeds.
None are truly orphaned in God’s eyes
Those who “use” God will fashion their demise.
Those who “use” God will fashion their demise.
Like Headmaster Brocklehurst used piety for gain
And ruled like many of his kind with tyranny and lies.
These lessons learned within my soul forever will remain.
But a gift of destiny would shine a loving light;
A friend who would forever remain in my heart –
Dear Helen, who could find faith and hope in bleakest night
And spread her love and smile even on departing.
Here, in the midst of this tribulation
I found kindred spirits I had never known.
Helen and Ms Temple, who both taught me patience
And I left Lowood into a lady grown.
My image peers back from the dusty pane –
Are you ready for what lies next dear Jane?
Are you ready for what lies next dear Jane?
How much more could my brand be tempered;
How close to the fire before molten puddles remain;
How much of this life will I cherish when remembered;
Or will these years pile upon me until I beg to leave?
No matter, I will never bend to self pity
Nor gazing at my visage grieve
Or think my lot in life was petty.
This time at Thornfield, no matter what it brings,
Whether I am queen or governess –
The only wound to soul that truly stings
Are those that tween my self-worth slip.
Demeaning barbs like Lady Blanche had thrown
Are those like all the rest I’ve known.
Are those like all the rest I’ve known,
So hateful, why must they demean,
While Master Rochester – in his eyes I’ve seen a glow,
Also, deep within, are secrets still unseen.
Shadows that drift like a storm may never go,
Like a raging fire never to be quelled
And forbidden truths much too hot to hold,
Disguised now as a Gypsy he’ll foretell.
Could he truly find love in me and not Blanche,
And if so, should I flee my own yearnings
Within which my spirit sings and dances,
But then, through all the rest of life, what have I learned?
Yet, this is caring and belonging I have never seen,
Still, I cannot forget where I have been.
Still, I cannot forget where I have been.
Will I still be someway in servitude?
No matter what I wear – what will others see,
But if I run will regret forever be my mood?
No, I must marry this man I love – Adele – this place.
Where he is, is my only true home,
But to the hidden truths I awake,
This secret kept, I will not condone.
This terrible burden now upon us,
A mad woman locked like the madness of this all;
This life of mine again unjust –
Too much pain for one life to allot!
For my own sanity I must say goodbye.
Please dear God, be with me, at my side.
Please dear God, be with me, at my side.
This place, this situation, I must flee
If only to be me for more than pride,
But for my painful heart to believe.
At Marsh End I am at last equal.
Love and friendship have a guiltless exchange.
Here, I am no longer fearful,
Still, I think of Thornfield where a part of me remains.
I now know that others love me for who I am
And my value in this world is real.
I’ve even been proposed to by another man,
So more hidden doubts can be unveiled.
The inheritance I received may be a sign
These trials I have endured are left behind.
These trials I have endured are left behind
But not the value of lessons learned.
The journey henceforth is truly mine
To share with whom my passion yearns.
From far away I feel Edward near
And go to find the castle in ruins
What have I done – for my love I fear;
My head races with so many emotions.
This heart, this love, was pent up in anger,
In a world which I … did not trust.
Within myself, and in your arms, there is no danger –
No walls to block your loving touch.
I am free from what I dreaded
I shall not live as in a room of red.
My watch is broken, I can not wait for you to get here
The sun is heating,(I cannot believe) today, we're finally meeting.
I'm not quite sure how I'm gonna act or what I'm gonna say
But of one thing I'm sure, when you'll be in front of me, you'll take my breath away.
While I'm waiting, my mind is flying away
From the moment you'll get here, to the first move you'll make.
I just wish, this day to be perfect
I hope I'm ready for any unexpected events.
It's getting late and you're nowhere to be found
I'm getting all kinds of emotions, but is nothing I can do about..
The park is empty, looks like the rain is gonna arrive
I guess I should be going too, nothing makes me stay around.
Maybe you got stuck in traffic or you've just changed your mind,
Either way, I better go now, maybe we'll get to meet some other time..
And now my battery is dying, I have such a lucky day,
I don't think this day could get any better,
>>no 'eff!n' way!!<<
Where should I go now? to the hotel or to a pub?
I'll get me something to drink before Imma call it a nite.
I don't find my card key, guess I'm losing my mind..
Who the 'eff' are you 'my friend'?
Why do you have to honk so loud?
me: Gosh, you scared me!
you: Where are you going? don't we have a date?
me: Hey, you're the one that got here late.
you: Yeah, I'm sorry. look, I've been running all the way...
me: Cool. I'm glad you came.
I'm starving. where you gonna take me?
you: well, since our picnic is ruined, thanks to the coming rain..
lemme take you to my favorite restaurant..
me: sounds great. OK.
While in the car, you've turned on the radio
And the silliest song was playing in the air
Smiling, you looked at me and started dancing
Gosh, you're amazing. (that's what I said)
We've got to the restaurant
It's getting pretty hot
No sign of the rain now
Guess she just changed her mind.
When I stepped inside
My favorite song was playing .. so loud
And once you've heard it, you took my hand in yours and smiled
you: Hey, this is our song since now!!
Since then I got this feeling, this awesome feeling inside
I'm with the right person and the nite has just begun
You're full of surprises, beautiful and kind
For me you are so special, I'll roll my dice tonight.
Next thing I know, we were back in the car
The music was playing loud, you were driving too far
The last stop we've made, was at the hotel I'm staying
You grabbed me in your arms and .. and then's when it started ... raining.
The weather gets colder, your hand is on my shoulder,
I ask you if you want to come and wait inside.
The fireplace is on, your clothes are on the stove
I bring you comfy clothes, while you're in the shower.
The rain is falling from the sky, the night is deep, looks black and white
I pour you a glass of wine while getting closer.
The electricity goes off, all of a sudden
We're in the dark, the music stops - I lit (up) a candle.
Looks like the rain has stopped now (or for the moment)
I pour you another glass of wine..
I touch your hand, you're grabbing mine
And pull me closer.
The last thing I remember, you were playing through my hair
I felt your (warm) breath down on my neck and I've kissed your shoulder
Slowly, you laid me down, on the floor, whispering something in my ear
Your fingers were walking down my spine, I've closed my eyes.. that's when we've kissed.
We've spent the night together, sleeping in each other arms
I was your blanket, you were my pillow - the dawn was coming fast.
I woke up and.. watching you sleeping
You found me smiling when you've opened your eyes.
Things went so fast - time was flying by
Only four days, until we say goodbye.
All the sand from the beach, the pictures framed in our minds
The scrambled eggs in the mornings, (all those) kisses (stolen) through the night.
While I'm counting the seconds, my mind is flying away
From the moment we've met, to the last thing you'll say.
I just wish, this day to last forever
I hope our story will never have an end.
In the airport, while waiting for our planes to come
Our silly love song was playing one more time
And once again, you took my hand in yours and smiled
That's when you've asked me, if I want to be ... your wife.
I come in from the blustery wind turning to shut the door behind me as
a gust launches into the café, sending a quick chill amongst those already seated.
I pause and take a quick look around the room. I smile as it’s not full yet but there are enough here to make the place cosy.
I notice a smattering of pictures on the wall but that isn’t why you come here. No, you come to the PoetrySoup café for the poetry and prose.
Being new to the neighbourhood I wander first towards the closest wall to catch a quick glimpse of those who have been honoured here.
I smile as I recognise a few names.
Loosening my jacket (there must be a chill in the air as I seldom wear a jacket!) I head over to the serving area to place my order. A hot chocolate to start with and a nice piece of black forest cake.
As I wait to the side I turn back into the room , taking in all the surroundings. There is an air of hominess about the place.
The worn black and white squared tiles on the floor, show scuffs and cracks.
The chunky square wooden tables and chairs with neat condiment holders to the side.
As I take my order I stop for a moment as I search for a spare table.
Amongst the conversations and laughter a phrase stands out and I turn to the table where it came from “Hvorfor Takk” (why thank you – Norwegian) I smile as that can only be Anne Lise. I recognise her Norwegian although mine is very basic and very rusty.
I make my way over to greet her and say hello.
I notice 2 other women sitting with Anne Lise and recognise PD – Linda in a flash as well as Andrea. “Hei I am Thomas and you must be Anne Lise.” I say as I arrive at the table and have caught the attention of those sitting there.
A huge grin lights the faces of those seated with my introduction.
“May I?” I ask standing before the only empty seat at the table.
“Please do.” They answer together then laugh.
Before I can all three stand and
Anne Lise introduces firstly PD Linda, we exchange a hug and our hello’s.
I recognise the next woman and jump in before Anne Lise can introduce Andrea. We hug and all sit, chatting away like school children waiting for the teacher to arrive in class.
They all turn around in their seats excitedly and start pointing to other members who are busily in conversations at their own tables.
“Over there is Kelly D, sitting with Gail and Mystic Rose” says Linda.
“…and Yvette Kelley with Bindu,” interrupts Andrea.
“Connie Moore is over there past Skat-Aux and Lucilla,’ points Linda.
I smile as heads turn at times to stare in our direction.
Standing I excuse myself for a moment as I head across to various tables to say hello to all those that have made me feel so welcome.
I share hugs with Kelly and Bindu, we share a laugh for a moment as I move onwards.
On my way around I meet Beverley Crespo and stop to share a quick conversation before completing my circle.
There are so many others in here as the place is filling up now.
Outside a change of season blows cold through a bleak neighbourhood, but inside there is a warmth in the air that comes with friendships and love.
I look around before sitting again and smile.
Spying my forest cake Andrea stands and heads to the counter.
Bringing some chocolate cake back we all laugh.
Anne Lise asks me about my Norwegian heritage and tries teaching me a few more words. I try but just can’t quite get them yet which makes her laugh. Linda asks about my writing and in turn Andrea and I smile at the bond we already have with our friendship.
Before the night is out I have shared moments with all of my wonderful friends. Kelly, Gail and Mystic as well as a laugh with Bindu who has the warmest smile. Then I got to chat with Skat and Lucilla, Connie, Yvette and Beverley with whom I shared some heartfelt words.
It’s getting late so we shuffle around and say our goodbyes.
Before heading in our own directions. Some left in pairs. Others in groups.
Some left alone but with a warmth inside that will burn brightly until next time.
Come over and drop in anytime. The PoetrySoup café is always open until late and they serve the best friendships going around.
So fuck it, it jus causes me
Your killing me i can compare
you to taxation
Your a constant source of my
Pretty soon there will be an
Due to my fucking frustration
Im gunna kill you both ooh,
how about castration? But it
was you caused it so fuck you
and the god damn explination
Shut the fuck up bitch im sick
of your all your exploytation
You used me you slut, thanks
to you i have inspiration to
send you to heaven,
Ha more like hell and youll be a
piece of shit call it your
I write with anger as a source
I wanna scream at you through
LOUD ENOUGH BITCH!
screaming at you is my way of
Because you dont fucking listen
I just had a hallucination, you
were going to prison
then you came to me looking
All i said was "congradulations i
hope you rot and suffer from
Well go fuck yourself, i wish i
could give the judge a
commendation for putting you
I hope you have a realization
that your a cunt, i only say that
based on true information I
hope they lock you up till the
end of your probation and thats
18 months with no chance of
early cancellation. Maybe youll
figure out what you did was life
altering and you realize your
actions are faultering your final
destination. Ill tell you where
you gunna go no where bitch
cuz you a hoe who has nothing
to show heres my explination.
Your Satan and thats just the
reality not my imagination
heres whats on my mind im
God you are my worst creation.
You're a fuckin' coke-head slut,
I hope you fuckin' die
I hope you get to hell get a
needle stuck in your eye
I hate your fuckin' guts, you
fuckin' slut, I hope you die
And you wonder you Why?
Why not? But, please don't get
me wrong, I'm not bitter or
It's not that I still love you, it's
not 'cause I want you back
It's just that when I think of
you, it makes me wanna yack,
what you did was whack.
But What else can I do, I
haven't got a clue.
Now I guess I'll just move on, I
have no choice but to.
But every time I think of you
now, all I wanna do puke my
guts out. Now jus fuck it all,
especially you. If i was you, id
be a piece of poo and yes my
album name is a fuck you so
guess what? Fuck you and that
asshole Tiger too! You call me
boo boo but thats what you call
him and every nigga youve
played too. So haha fuck you, i
hope the next time i see you
youll be in a casket and ill be
wearin all black crying boo who
(boo who) but wait i wont ill jus
laugh at you (haha) because
youll be dead and ill be
standing over you and ill spit
on you! (spit noises) how much
i hate you, you aint got a fuckin
clue and your love cant go to
two and im who you skipped
you fuckin shrew. Savannah
youll be the topic of my debut.
I wanna stab and burn you call
it fondue. Your the obsticle ive
gotten through. You played me
like a kazoo soo buzz buzz fuck
you! I need to wash you off like
some shampoo. your no longer
one of my worries Hakuna
Mattata just like your tattoo.
What you did to me you cant
undo. Theres nothing youll live
up to youll be a bum haha deja
vu. Huh, i gave you everything
look at it from my point of
view, you left me out of the
blue, deep in love i tried and
met the true side of you. You
know whats true im gunna be
big one day unlike you. So go
ahead hold your head high but
in the inside you know your
worthless and theres nothing
youll ever amount to. Im the
reason your wrists are bleeding
and cut too, and now im proud
of it that shit cant be
misconstrued. Ive got a large
list of things to do one is to kill
you, check, this verse just did
you wanna review? Haha fuck
you bitch, im done with you but
alas i still think about you. I
cant get you out of my head jus
like I cant end this with out a
simple goodbye and fuck you!
someone always told me this with tears in her eyes...
(for Lata Sethi's late-mother, who was my mother’s ‘sister’ and who took us all into her heart, and for Lata and Ravi Sethi of Defence Colony, New Delhi)
a wife left South Africa in the 1960’s to join her husband
who was in exile at the time...
in 1970 the husband was sent by the African National Congress to India to be its representative there...
the husband and wife spent two years in Bombay...
one afternoon the husband fell and broke his leg...
the wife knocked on their neighbour’s door, in an apartment complex in Bombay
the neighbour was an old Punjabi lady...
the wife asked the neighbour for a doctor to see to the injured husband...
a Parsi ‘Bone-Setter’ was promptly summoned...
the husband still recalls his anxiety of seeing ‘Bone-Setter’ written on the Parsi gentleman’s bag...
by the way, the ‘Bone-Setter’ worked his ancient craft and surprisingly for the husband, his broken leg healed quite soon...
but still on that day, while the ‘Bone-Setter’ was seeing to the husband...
the wife and the old Punjabi lady from next door got to talking about this and that and where these new Indian-looking wife and husband were from as their accents were clearly not local...
the wife told the elderly Punjabi lady that the husband worked for the African National Congress of South Africa and had left to serve the ANC from exile...
and that they had left their two children behind in South Africa and that they were now essentially political refugees...
the Punjabi lady broke down and wept uncontrollably...
she told the foreign woman that she too had had to leave her home in Lahore in 1947 and flee to India with only the clothes on her back when the partition of the subcontinent took place and Pakistan was formed and at a time when Hindus from Pakistan fled to India and vice versa...
the Punjabi lady then asked the foreign woman her name...
‘Zubeida’, but you can call me ‘Zubie’...
the Punjabi woman hugged Zubie some more, and the two women, seperated by age and geography, wept, sharing a shared pain...
the Punjabi woman told Zubie that she was her ‘sister’ from that day on, and that she felt that pain of exile and forced migration and what being a refugee felt like...
Zubie and her husband Mosie became the closest of friends with the Hindu Punjabi neighbours who were kicked out of Pakistan by Muslims...
then came the time for Mosie and Zubie to leave for Delhi where the African National Congress office was based...
the elderly Punjabi lady and Mosie and Zubie said their goodbyes...
a year or two later, the elderly Punjabi lady’s daughter Lata married Ravi Sethi and the couple moved to Delhi...
the elderly Punjabi lady called Zubie and told her that her daughter was coming to Delhi to live and that she had told Lata, her daughter that she had a ‘sister’ in Delhi...
Lata and Ravi Sethi then moved to Delhi...
This was in the mid-1970’s...
Lata and Zubie became the closest of friends and that bond stayed true, and stays true till today, though Zubie is no more, and the elderly Punjabi lady is no more...
the son and the husband still have a bond with Lata and Ravi Sethi...
a bond that was forged between Hindu and Muslim and between two continents across the barriers of creed and time...
a bond strong and resilient, forged by the pain and trauma of a shared experience...
and that is why, and I shall never stop believing this, that hope shines still, for with all the talk of this and of that, and of that and of this, there will always be a simple woman, somewhere, anywhere, who would take the ‘other’ in as a sister, a fellow human...
and that is why there will always be hope...
hope in the midst of this and of that and of that and of this...
(for Lata Sethi's late-mother, who was my mother’s ‘sister’ and who took us all into her heart, and for Lata and Ravi Sethi of Defence Colony, New Delhi)