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Tommie Shea Poem
Call me Mr. Nobody
That guy you see every now and again
You know me, but you don’t, you still think my name’s Ben
Allowing nothing emotional to find its way in
Mr. Nobody - lost among the see of men
Call me Mr. Nobody
Even when you were too weak to walk
Full of tears, full of shock – yet I still made time to walk you around the block
All the while listening to you cry over some dumb jock
Mr. Nobody – as reliable as a clock
Call me Mr. Nobody
It seems like that is all I am to you
Someone to talk to when you blue
Someone to take care of you when you have the flu
Someone who only comes on cue
Someone you can easily subdue
Mr. Nobody – the man in love with you
Call me Mr. Nobody
The man’s who love for you swallowed the sea
Who – given the slightest hint – would have collapsed on bended knee
If only life was like some sappy Hollywood love story
I know I would wake up each day to your loving face next to me
But it’s not…
It isn’t – hey are you busy?
It isn’t – I had such a bad day!
It isn’t – I’m so sad!
It isn’t – the world made me so mad!
But since you don’t know
I’ll change it just for you
Call me Mr. Nobody
The man you once knew, but could never see
Just how much you meant to me
Copyright © Tommie Shea | Year Posted 2016
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Tommie Shea Poem
Everyone experiences a time in their life when it seems like the light has given away to darkness.
Times when hope becomes the substance of memory leaving nothing but overwhelming loss
Times when sadness creeps in and consumes what remains – if much remains at all
Until we stand alone in the deep blackness of the pain absorbed from the fall
Then when it seems that this darkness – this unwelcome guest
Never plans to leave and will never give us rest
It has taken away our loved ones – it has taken our best
It has broken the fragile heart beneath this bruised chest
It has left me with still fresh memories that tear away at my mind
It has taken away my future and left me behind
Wondering if this was part of God’s ‘perfect’ design
Were they branches that deserved to be cut from the vine?
Yet, it is only when the darkness passes that I could finally see
That you were always standing directly behind me
I was so blinded and lost in an abyss of blackness and loss
That I was unaware that I had wandered into the shadow of the cross
Though I still weep when I look around still hoping to see their face
I am comforted in knowing they are now under your perfect grace
So, I thank you dear Father for allowing me to see
That you didn’t take them away – you set them free
Copyright © Tommie Shea | Year Posted 2016
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Tommie Shea Poem
When I was a child, I laid awake in bed
As the shadow man hovered neither awake nor dead
From the hallway, he lingered projecting his hate
As a reminder of our impending date
Even as a child, I knew what it was
I knew what he wanted and what he does
Pure evil could never be denied
That’s why he laughed and why I cried
Soon he was gone and I was set free
Finally the devil had lost interest in me
But I cursed GOD for not showing his face
Another case where prayers didn’t receive his grace
Then it came to me and I couldn’t help but smile
The devil did torture me for a little while
But he never made it in to silence my plea
Because he saw the SON standing behind me
Copyright © Tommie Shea | Year Posted 2016
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Tommie Shea Poem
The television blinking in the distance
The sound long faded impossible to exist in your presence
I sit content, as you lay softly upon my beating chest
My fingers gently sweeping across the top of your breast
The curve of your ear and the dimple in your cheek
How your lips flutter with each breathe every time I sneak a quick peek
Countless seconds passed as I lay nestled within the sweet caress
Of your love as it kisses my mind and tickles my soul
The totality of you cannot be stated, written, or proclaimed
For words dirty up your perfection
Proclamations cheapen your commitments
And poetry, well….
How can the totality of you been summoned up in a word
Or words, or lyrics, or paragraphs, or stories
What is sexy? When sexy to one is grotesque to another
What is perfection? When perfection to one is irritation to another
The poem of you can only be written in between the seconds of me
The love of you can only be stated in the nothingness of me
The proclamation of you can only be proclaimed…
In the loss of the singularity of me within the unity of you
Copyright © Tommie Shea | Year Posted 2016
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