Best Absent Poems
BLONDE – ABSENT MINDED OR FAIR?
CLIENT
Goodness, gracious me,
Come over here and see,
How did you dare,
You have no flair,
My hair now’s dark,
It should be fair,
You’ve cut too much,
Let go don’t clutch,
I asked for just a trim,
You said your name is Kim?
Kim, you’ve made a mess,
I must confess.
I wanted fair and long,
Hello –ding dong!,
Can’t you even hear,
My absent minded dear,
My color’s on,
But now you say that some,
Colors do not take,
Don’t tell me you’re a fake!
You offer me a cup of tea,
But all you brought was cold coffee,
And now it’s time to rinse,
But your phone rings, its Prince,
My colors on and burning,
I’m going bald,
And all because Prince called!
You check your watch, you’re sorry,
And tell me not to worry,
But my hair has almost gone,
When I walked in here it shone,
Now I have to buy a wig,
This my husband will not dig!
You even want me to pay,
For having been treated this way,
Oh goodness gracious me,
I step out for the world to see,
What you have done to me!
ANSWER FROM A DISGRUNTLED EMPLOYEE
Well, let me tell you Mrs. Tea,
I tried my best,
But you put me to the test,
I want it short, no keep it long,
I held my tongue in order to,
Be strong,
You want it dark and then
Quite fair,
How did I dare,
To take you on,
For I am not a con!
And if Prince decides to ring,
He’s the most important thing,
That has ever come my way,
In my dreary job of little pay,
I’m sure that I’ll be fired,
But am absolutely,
Sick and tired,
Of answering to every whim,
I’ve had a grim
Few weeks, so if you want to leave,
I do not care and will not grieve,
In fact I’ll say so long,
My dear,
Don’t ever take a step,
Near here.
EAVESDROPPER
Ladies please shut up,
We have heard quite enough,
Of this awkward conversation,
Goodness what a situation,
I have to however say,
That after today,
Kim, I will never dare,
To let you do my hair,
For you are both unfair.
And as for you Mrs. Tea,
Even if a got a hairdo free,
I would never again come near,
If either of you are still here!
Who is my father?
That's one question I will never have the answer to.
My father abandoned me before I was even born.
Thankfully, my mother kept me,
when she easily could have given me up for abortion or adoption.
My mother is one half of me, but I was always curious
about the man who made up my other half.
I don't know where he lives, I don't know if he is alive or dead.
I don't have a picture of him, I don't even know his name.
I know nothing about my father.
Is he a doctor, is he a teacher, is he the mailman, is he my neighbor?
I often wondered, if I could have walked passed him on the street one day,
and never even known it.
We could have been standing next to each other, in line at the grocery store.
And, he wouldn't even know that I was his daughter.
I could have brothers and sisters out there somewhere.
Maybe I am not an only child.
I would like to see this man's face just once.
But, if he didn't love me enough, to abandon me,
maybe I should do the same thing to him.
With no guidance—love— or compliments from you
it is no wonder — why — she fell in love with men she never knew...
you never gave her one
which is why she didn't have a clue...
trying to fill a void much like pouring liquid through a sifter
attracted to spirits like yours — selfish drifters...
like you— they were soon three sheets in the wind
my God — will she ever learn how to choose better men?...
you made promises that you never kept
caused her to wear sadness like a waist belt— and oh my God how she wept...
she just couldn't figure out that it was not her — but you
she wore blame as deep as the sky is blue...
absent daddy don't you know that as a FATHER — you are —THE— most IMPORTANT MAN in her life?
but as a sperm donor — you set your baby-girl up for strife...
Inspired by the album "Words"..song titled; "Like a Woman"
by The Tony Rich Project"
THE ABSENT YEARS
life becomes so sweet
so precious life to the eye
life in all its forms –
the rock strewn stream bubbles life
even those worn-round pebbles
a silver fish drowned
soaked to death in my shower
strange how sad i felt
after watching it struggle
after offering nothing
like mixed emotions
when i tangle spider’s web
the tiny worker
tiny artist full of life
and i so full of myself
death now seems all round
and i only half alive
in my absent years
floating down that rock-strewn stream
drowned silver fish, sad spider
Dave Austin
They say the abused becomes the abuser,
but I will never turn out to be you.
Your shadows may haunt me,
but never consume.
Every scar you inflicted,
every tear you caused
has given me the strength to never fear.
Your cruelty taught me what not to become,
but it also taught me empathy.
I carry your wounds,
but not your hate,
as I refuse to conform to your twisted fate.
They say the abused becomes the abuser,
but my mind sings a different tune.
With every step,
I prove society wrong.
In healing,
I grow immensely strong.
Your ghost may haunt me time to time,
but I will never let my past dictate my future,
as in shadows deep,
my spirt climbs,
to reach beyond the pain you caused.
It’s at centre of the table
The drink to Absent Friend
Standing there untouched
Until the meeting’s end.
The first round tipped to it
In a solemn, silent salute
In the standing tradition
Of paying our tribute.
Some fell in action,
Some fell to the booze,
Some by their own hand,
Some you win, some you lose.
We don’t make any judgement,
Don’t ask any reason why,
Just thinking that, so easily,
Could have been you or I.
We each have our Absent Friend
And we drink to them one and all,
Just for that moment bring each
Back to mind in silent recall.
No matter how long the meeting
Each ends in the same way
With The Absent Friends Drink,
Untouched, being poured away
patriots' day shines bright,
ceremonies fill the air,
true hearts stand unseen.
Thar was once an old buckaroo named Hank,
Who was very absent-minded and lank.
He told his hoss to skedaddle,
Fergittin' to mount the saddle.
'Twas not the first time old Hank drew a blank!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(c) 2015 All Rights Reserved
from: "Dear Men and Women", by John Hall Wheelock:
(in memory of Van Wyck Brooks)
"...I have learned it from them at last, who am now grown old
A happy man, that the nature of things is tragic
And meaningful beyond words, that to have lived
Even if once only, once and no more,
Will have been -- oh, how truly -- worth it."
We, the aged, often have borne
that ultimate separation --
death; or, worse for some,
banishment to dementia
or to a dreaded exile
at any generic "home"
where visitors rarely enter
and hurry to depart.
Left with our diminished
dim impressions, we all --
confused -- recall old errant
conversation, guided gossip
in half-remembered settings
to which we surviving few
paid scant attention. But now
those places, long abandoned,
all assume unmistakable
purpose: marking for us
the decreasing distance
from our individual fated
final final destinations.
Thinking
that I'm "absent";
many attempts were made
to open those trunks when absent.
Deceiving!
And the cemetery was still and serene
A palette of muted greens, browns, tans and warm gray scene
Fence-post with barbed wire surrounds the garden
Seashells and caliza, sage brush, cactus, and mesquite trees harden
Tall cold stones erect sentries
Standing on sacred ground granting entry
In the garden of seashells and sage brush
A cemetery of generations of families
Grandmothers and grandfathers
Their parents and family before them
Tugging at our memories
Whispering shadows of their secrets
All lie with crowns of stones
As their names are etched on marble stones
While others with ceramic photographs of the dearly departed
So they, won’t be forgotten
All with stories to tell
My head down with sadness
My heart skips a beat in my chest
I stand and look at the headstone of my once beautiful grandmother
And lay a bouquet of red roses at the feet of the stone
I kneel and clean the surroundings of weeds that have sprang up
And dust of the ceramic photograph
Wistful thinking
Her smile with a flicker of spark in her eyes
All the good times we used to have
She taught me not to be afraid,
To drive her white 1958 Impala
And the cemetery was still and serene
I know it’s an empty vessel that lay in the sandstone
As her soul grew wings long ago
And in heaven she’s watching over all she has left behind
5/20/2016
Free Verse Form
Contest: And The Cemetery Was
Sponsored by: Broken Wings
Spiritually Fulfilled
Gazing at the sky
Spiritually fulfilled
Cherished memories
We promised to link our time eternal,
and yet, in a flash, he became drained
by some incurable strain of memory loss;
forgetting the warm love that knitted our arms…
I cringe; dear life ,sanctify us from harm I pray
his eyes reaching out, though living in another realm
and this varnished portrait I now hold with tears
cannot fade, cannot erase his smile bursting my veins.
Here, in a room with cinders as coffee tunes,
my flesh, thin flesh grows hungry, a bit angry
about his world unknown to him and me : a jungle tested
by stillness or steel… he remembers nothing
of moments brewed in simple joys and discoveries,
our bodies once locked on subways and parks,
tongues livid with laughter popping shrieks
darting on tall trees,giggling, giggling. i freeze...
My black coffee freezes at the damn thought
of other human arms embracing tight, not alone.
I cling to my beloved, wishing I could give
half of my mind to fill a space of his dementia.
I close the door gazing at him, chair-bound…
I am absent today.
PD's Best Love Poem #3
~ about Alzheimer's Disease
An octogenarian visited his doctor
'I think I'm getting senile” he said
The doctor replied “I don’t think you are senile
Let’s look for a different diagnosis instead”
“But I keep forgetting to do up my fly”
The old man said “After I’ve been for a pee”
The doctor smiled and then replied
“Not opening your fly before you start, that’s senility”
Absent
By: Tom Wright
9-11-2019
Having never been gifted,
with a lodestar.
Public speaking,
isn’t listed in my repertoire.
So I often stammer,
while feeling red faced.
Pursuing opportunity,
to exit, post-haste.
I was not there but I believe,
As you took your last breath,
You saw a field so green, with flowers and butterflies,
And golden rivers that flowed smooth.
I was not there but I believe,
The scent of jasmine was what filled your nose,
As you crossed over from life to eternity
Death did not scare you coz its stench you did not feel,
Even as you skipped over to the afterlife.
I was not there but I believe,
It was an angel band that you heard
Sing hallelujah welcoming you into heaven,
And there at the top our God the king,
That was why you slept with a smile.
I was not there but was she?
Did you recognize her face among the angels?
Did you hear her rich laughter again?
Was that another reason you left with a smile?
Your face relaxed and showing only love?
I was not there but I believe,
You felt no pain and only peace,
Remorse maybe for leaving us behind,
But there in heaven you have found eternal rest,
We love you but God loved you more.