Best Matt Poems
Because for Matt Caliri’s Contest “ I Love You Because..”
Because…
Your eyes lift your soul
to my lips
and
vibrations of essence
swarm my emotions.
Scenes play as I gaze
in my mind
of
time to come
where
I understand you
through all eternity.
Your smile leads me
to
my better self
and when you touch me;
it is balm for my spirit
and
fire for my heart.
Without your whispers
I see no light.
Darkness is cold.
Yet when we walk
side by side
your shadow
melds
into mine.
As the Banyan trunks
grow together
with twists and bends
ever sturdy and strong
so is our passion together.
Therefore,
a gift so pure;
relentless in giving
as if it were
lingering fragrances.
All this
Is Because
Dusk shone lavender toned skies upon the mountain field
where scattered trees with wizened limbs were steeled to ground.
High grass tickled their small legs while they giggled and ran.
Intoxicated by freedom from rules and the summon of fireflies,
they were four cousins with jars on a lark never known before.
All under nine but two would wake the morn to lifelong heartache.
Matt Smith, sir sonic screwdriver
Can ya lend me a fiver
Let's bet and see who wins
Him or Leno in the Battle of the Chins
Matt the librarian loved to own thousands of rare books
and displayed them on shelves keeping an eye on crooks;
one could find the music sheets of young Beethoven;
Jenna loved his classical music and played it on the violin.
He dusted every book, not leaving a speck anywhere;
even rays of sunshine filtering gave them a golden shine;
for fourteen years or more Matt read books on line,
then opened up a bookstore and spent his time there.
G
Over twenty years he ran his business with zeal,
he stood six foot four and was a fine navy seal;
folks dropped by to spent an hour reading,
or engage in a cool topic that was interesting.
One afternoon I walked in and I saw him dusting books,
he could reach the top shelf with easiness and glancing
back he greeted me kindly dropping what he was doing
he invited me in, his welcoming was as warm as his looks.
Everyone reading at the long cherry table lifted their eyelids once,
as if I was intruding in their reading and apologizing
I started scanning all those books for an interesting
title and finding it, I joined the other avid readers who smiled twice.
I visited that bookstore often, I bought an old book with a buck
and read it on the spot instead of going to the library;
winter came and kept me away, I spent time on Facebook...
April came and I was shocked to hear that Matt had passed away.
Written on 3/27/2017
I AM
I am an intelligent, strong willed man
I wonder where I truly belong
I hear everyone criticizing from behind
I see all the goals of my life
I want to reach them through hard work
I am an intelligent, strong willed man
I pretend that I can change the past
I feel the weight of the world on my shoulders
I touch my memories to inspire
I worry that they may repeat
I cry still thinking of the mistakes that were made
I am an Intelligent, strong willed man
I understand that I cannot change the past
I say that there are no regrets
I dream that I will be the best
I try my hardest to accomplish all that I said
I hope that I can learn from the past
I am an intelligent strong willed man
-Matt Forshay
Matt
My man
I love him
I'm warm & safe
Matt
When you sing the world is at peace
Your words are passionate
Your songs are sweet
A gift from heaven
A token from God
A voice like an angel sent from above
Sweet melodies
Sweet songs
Passionate harmony
Filling our soul with unconditional love
Sing canary,sing
The world is no longer asleep
Great angel of love sent from above.
Matt’s dad Mike works in IT for Nissan,
So when he won gold at Rio de Janerio,
For the 100m freestyle in the S9 category,
Nissan made him a gold car, a LEAF.
The LEAF is one of the new electric cars,
And to get to his physiotherapy sessions,
In the two years building up to Rio 2016,
Matt had been driving in a white LEAF.
He was born with cerebral palsy, just mild,
On the 14th day of October’s month, 1996,
And first represented Britain in Eindhoven,
Which is in Holland, at the Euros in 2014.
There he placed just outside the medals,
So in 2016 Funchal, which is Portuguese,
At the Euros, in the 50m free he won gold,
And in the 4x100m freestyle relay, bronze.
"You here?"
"Will...?"
"Never on time....man" "He's going to
win this case just because of these pictures"...He begins to look through the photos.
The private eye cracks a smile and begins to hum
Spaceman...by the Killers
"Of all the songs to get stuck in my head while waiting"
"The stupid song's been stuck in my head for what feels like a
year." (stands up and appears to be getting apprehensive) "I should win a freaking
award for the amount of work i'm putting into this case"
"I can't take the waiting anymore." (He begins to pace and dials his phone)
"Will? ugh, voicemail"
"So, where are you? I can't take waiting here much more, GET HERE!"(hangs up the phone)
"You tell people to be on time and they
haven't the respect for how busy I really am."
The setting is a bleak dark alley, a place where
love is replaced by pain, where the light
of day barely penetrates.
Humanity is replaced by brutality in these cold, dark alleys of the city.
For a moment our character looks to the sky between the buildings and sees a strange light.
It seems to stop flying for a moment,
"Get outta here, is that??"
Off in the distance the light (which was small at first), begins to be getting brighter and closer.
"My GOD, is that a
spaceship?" A blinding beam suddenly brightens the alley way and our character is gone.
He's holding her hand on a sweltering Jersey day
As his brother smokes with his madvillain friends
On the concrete stoop. Cars race and blare.
He's holding her hand
And it was only meant to be a trip to the store
For an overpriced gallon of milk,
Not an exercise in doublethink.
"Brother D." But the young boy,
Who's holding her hand,
Right now he doesn't have a brother.
He tries to fabricate a smile.
Family that never talks to each other,
Strangers that become closer than family.
My foot steps echo through the hall
Roaring like a ferrocious lion
Time has passed and surfaced again
I am on the edge of a vast cliff of alone
Do I jump or do I yell??
Dance around and act a fool
Seek out the action in the night
My foot step echos through the hall
Dust bunnies dance into the corner
For Matt's contest Empty Apartment free verse.
You let this thing take a hold of you, control of you
Dictating your actions like a puppet without strings
Taking you down the road of the weak
Unable to believe what yourself,speaks
Destroying your body from the inside out
Subconsciously making you scream, "Let me Out"!
Your a shining star on the verge of a disaster
Stop it before it gets what its after
Admitting the lies to the ones you love
The first step in becoming what you need to become
Seeking out the help you need to save your soul
is the bravest thing in this world,that i know
Your a shining star that needs to shine
Dont let it burn out
Stop it,Scream,
"Let me out!, Let me out!
To be a measure of a man
You gotta take a stand
Gotta take control
Gotta find the strength, on your own
Be that shining star
that i know you are
Gotta fight the fight
You gotta right to your life
Keep fighting
Fighting for your life............
Matt was born in Middlesex in 1990 on 10th June,
In Stockton on Tees, where he works out, trains;
He’s a seven-a-side footballer and plays vigorously,
For the England CP team ‘cos of grandad’s strains.
He had a stroke at work - sore head, blind eyes -
In November 2013 which impaired his mobility,
Made his left side weaker and harder to control,
And which gave him a slight speech difficulty.
Doctors were not hopeful he’d play footy again,
But he stuck in at his exercises and his rehab,
So today he’s been to Rio, they came in 5th place,
Having scored in 2015 at the CP Worlds, fab.
Courtesy of Marx (albeit Zeppo,
Harpo, Groucho, and Chico), whose
acts (along Seuss iz Zacks Fifth
Avenue) brought generations of
laughter to Vaudeville, and then
the Silver Screen adlibbed, linkedin,
and ransacked skits zoid material
Bing very loosely based on his best
known writings (Oh Pee Yet Of The
Masses) by Karl Marx (no relation
to Bros Grin), and Friedrich Engels
whar they whiz instrumental qua
Cingular Capitalone political philosophy
paradigm as spit, and (shoe) shining,
seducing, and salivating players trans
formed Msn Netzero Linkedin Petsmart
Aleck outlook and pinterest, when their
collective insight did cents how masses
(i.e. bourgeois) took a rakish (otherwise)
up standing Norwegian bachelor farmer
for comic relief to break monotony of
agrarian obligations, and serve up one
heaping healthy portion per production,
sans whatever whims would crop
up by infusing thespian showdown
incorporating commune nic cache shun
(disproportionate) app peals studded terrain
with locked havens avast re shtetl ment.
Hoi Polloi re: common folk in sore need
of distraction and belief in a brighter side
of life, than saliva dehydrating brute nose
to the grindstone pathetic existence, yoked
as oxen to plows, where plodding tattered
shod feet scraped a pencil thin line, whence,
seeds sprinkled into futile ruts forecast angry
birds to shutterfly, twittering like bada$$
beastie boys Dharma bumming while On
The Yellow Brick Road.
Inn ascent bystanders avian avatars initially
supposedly sprung from ergot, mushroom
and/or smut spores, whereas the myth of
one mortal idol (Matthew Scott Harris) did
rival Vladimir Ilich (frequently corrupted into...
mathematic-call
am
math-am-a-tick-all
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