Best On The Far Side Poems
Row by row for miles it seems
perfectly aligned, the white stones rise
Stoic symbols of brave men and women
a sight that brings tears to our eyes
In irony, a bald eagle rests
atop a single grave marker
He seems to know that each life snuffed
leaves our world a bit darker
Changing of the guard
at the tomb of an unknown warrior
Precise, rigid, respectful
performed with utmost honor
Who's buried there?
Fathers, husbands, even wives
This tomb represents all lost in action
as they gave their lives
On the far side of Arlington
an eternal flame is still aglow
For an assassinated president
JFK - another war hero
You cannot visit the cemetery
without shedding tears
For the noble and brave young soldiers
whose sacrifices secured our years
Yes, years, decades, centuries
of feeling safe on U.S. shores
Came with the hefty price
countless casualties of wars
As sunset darkens their resting place
let’s raise our eyes to the sky
Praying our troops return safely
and, in peace, the eagle will fly
July 12, 2014
*Dedicated to all of the men and women who have preserved our freedom.
Here’s a short poem for the blind among us,
A poem that’s written in braille,
A poem that hopes to enlighten the world,
A short unique, beautiful tale,
About a blind old wise man, who lives all alone,
In a house on the far side of town,
With a poetic dog, who faces the moon,
And howls a short poetic sound,
And the man can see what the dog softly sings,
Can see what this dog tries to say,
Can see the love shared by this most beautiful dog,
The love on full public display,
As he drifts off to sleep, every night of the week,
Drifts off with this dog on his mind,
This poetic mongrel, a terrier cross something,
This poetic dog who is blind.
Past the haze of campfires glow,
Along the rocky shore, where
Fireflies dance & laughter rolls,
The Raven waits for me.
Butterflies and Bumblebees,
Blind to futures past, await the
Day the harvest brings, the songs
Of journeys last.
Until that time, the calm I seek,
Must scurry to and fro,
The devil hems and haws with me,
But goodness only grows.
I look around, the change I see,
Lays scattered in the wind,
The final breeze I yearn to feel,
Lies buried in the end.
October, '18
The oldest voices whisper below the ground.
Hands pull on roots — wind-beaten, gnarled —
stories woven through the fabric of time.
Bark peeled slick, leaves flattened,
the wisdom of what makes whole lies
between finger and thumb,
passed along like a flame, a prayer.
But the soil only knows part of the story.
The other half lives in breath,
a noise wafting through the room —
a voice wrapping itself around the injured,
knitting them back into themselves,
as if words alone could summon strength,
draw poison from blood.
And when the breath becomes thin,
when there’s no salve to ease the pain,
there is no anger here.
Only the stillness of understanding:
death is on the far side of the cure.
On a street long ago
with a sidewalk and curb,
Back when houses seemed huge,
In a child's wide-eyed way.
On a screen porch, played quietly,
As not to disturb.
For my mother was having
A headache that day.
All the front yards were deep,
Nestled back from the street.
With a walkway of concrete
And large, shady trees.
Every morning, I waited
to yell, then retreat,
When the giant man walked by,
never noticing me.
All I knew was the little
They let children know,
That he lived with his mother,
On the far side of town.
He was big and slumped over
And walked very slow.
Not a person remembered
Him utter a word.
As he passed by our walkway,
I readied my shout,
Then remembered, "Play quietly",
Mom's head hurt today.
I recall as he stopped,
Slowly turning about,
Then he started his blunderous
Footsteps my way.
I was puzzled and frozen,
A chill up my spine.
When he reached our front steps,
I could hear mother say,
"Hello Billy", then ask
if his mom was okay,
As she latched the screen door,
Nudging me back away.
Mother always recounted
What happened that day.
And she spoke of the good heart
That lay deep within.
It was only that once
I missed shouting his way.
Billy worried, not hearing
His four year old friend.
Gene Bourne
08-17-14
Outside my dorm window, the snow began to fall;
Everybody had gone home, but I didn’t have a car.
Christmas break started yesterday, they’re gonna throw me out;
I’ve got no place to go, I’ll just be wandering about.
Rubbing elbows with the rich kids on an academic ride,
But the tracks that I come from are from the other side.
No daddy who’s a lawyer; no mother with a doctorate degree,
No car keys to a new Porsche underneath a Christmas tree.
Threw some clothes in my backpack with the cafeteria food that I stole;
Borrowed my roommate’s comforter to protect me from the cold.
Found a shelter for the homeless on the other side of town;
With my First Year Contract Law book, I started to hunker down.
A little boy walked up beside me and stood beside my cot,
“Mister, would you like to share my candy, it’s the only thing I got.
I’ll give you half my candy cane if you read me a story from your book.”
How could I refuse this little boy and the longing in his look?
“You can keep your Christmas candy, but I will tell you a story,
About a newborn baby King and the star that signaled glory.”
As I told the story of Christmas, the best I could recall,
People gathered around the two of use as the snow outside did fall.
When my story was finally over, the little boy just smiled,
And put a smile on every other face that gathered in the crowd;
Then he looked at every one of us and said, so simply,
“Jesus Christ put that star of hope into all of you and me.”
Suddenly, my self-pity flew right out of my soul,
Becoming rich like all my schoolmates, no longer was my goal,
I closed up my text book and went outside into the snow,
Laying on our backs, making snow angels, we watched the stars aglow.
“The star of hope still shines brightly, each and every Christmas night,
With our faith in baby Jesus, everything will turn out all right.”
I returned back to the university and finished my degree,
Dedicating my life thereafter to helping others out of poverty.
Every Christmas Eve I go back to that shelter on the far side of town,
And retell the story of Christmas to whoever comes around.
His rote now writ, too large for him to tote.
In quiet mode, squirming ambitious fit...
Yet sit he would, to savor what he wrote;
mulling the twist and turning soul of it.
It gleams of gore and life’s ensuing gait;
impassioned pleas of love to softly grow
while nebulae whirl and patiently wait;
the poem’s only thought “to get up and go”.
So, go it will-- ride the stars far and wide,
to ramble or hide, what e’re the demand.
My fervent wish, for life on the far side,
have somewhere to write and a pen in hand.
My lasting goal- - -to finish what I seek
for better, or worse, an ending to speak.
Poem about Sudbury, Ontario, Canada
Where's Blueberry Hill?
Is it north; is it west?
All the people are talking
and they say it's the best.
Little fingers are picking.
All the children bent down
filling baskets with berries
on the far side of town.
So; where are these berries
I see marked on the map.
In this place called a district
of the Minnow Lake gap.
Affection of the female kind
just the friendship finally found
is the salve for the questing heart
coming from a former self
without confusion that the meek
is the state for woman’s grace
just as fierce with wit that cuts
in defense of worldly strikes
the communal behind a veil
a front exacted against the pain
allowing entry of the type
once existing on the far side
now entranced by support
once estranged before the turn
to the gender that confirms
affection from the female kind.
Occasionally I look at time departed,
And nearly always with a rueful eye.
Calling back days of steps uncharted,
Traipsing through days, querying why?
Times that found my heart hardened,
Ahead of God setting my domain afire.
Prior to my psyche becoming burdened,
I was merely a sinner reposed in mire.
But something happened in my life,
On the far side of minds forgetting.
Cancer and the Master Surgeon's knife,
Tutored me about another blood letting.
I don't believe in anything anymore
Actually lets be honest
I don't believe in a big amount of things
I don't believe in love
I don't believe in people
I don't believe in safety
But mostly
I don't believe in myself
Not anymore anyways
Most people would find that sad
But I do not
How can I believe in myself?
I'm like a bird
Who should trust in their wings
To carry them up when the branch breaks
But I cannot
Because you see
If I were a bird my wings would be clipped
And tell me
Why would a bird trust in wings
That cannot make them rise?
I am a bird in a cage
And that cage is my depression
And in my cage is a perch which is my anxiety
Then on the far side their is a mirror
I can see myself
I can see a girl
Who is broken
Who is lost
Who is tired
And who is afraid
I look in that mirror
And I see not what you see
I see the scars and the newly marked lines
I see the demons
I see the mistakes
The horrors of my past
All of which make me
Me
I see a girl who can barely look you in the eyes
And I feel the tears that slide down my cheeks
Every night as I try to find peace in sleep
I see the girl that they have all made me into
The girl that they make me believe that I am
The girl that can't get away
The girl who can't save herself
Why do I go through this hell!
Why do I constantly revisit all of these memories
This life is not meant to be lived in such a way
It is not meant to end because someone cannot handle it
It was not meant to be filled with so much pain and fear
It was not meant to be such a tragedy
And it was not supposed to have to end so soon...
But maybe it doesn't have to end
Maybe my wings will grow back
Maybe I won't always be stuck in this cage
And maybe I am worth it
Maybe I can believe in myself
Maybe one day all will be different
But today is not that day
So I will wait
I will wait for the one day that may or may not come
When my wings can carry me
And when I will once again
Believe in me.
I only said it, to make you smile back
You wouldn't say it back
I like to shy away from the world
To silence the thoughts
don't have to think about the camera girl
With soft locks
Just stick my head in a book, my masking mistook
I think I killed the atmosphere
It's okay, it wasn't so great in here
Some say my vocabulary is full blown
And some say I'm a misanthrope
Oh ho, you couldn't wait to say hi
Is she looking at us? just smile and wave
I don't know what she's saying
Does she want us to come over?
You do it, now say it
Oh you disappoint me
She's a party girl if I ever saw one
And I only saw one in my brother’s black room
Air always smelled like a Hippie reunion
And I'm pretty sure they were all doing shrooms
She's a Rhythmic, non-cynic, hygienic class act
She likes to speak like a debaucherous Nazz
I don't know what I want
But I know what I need is her
Stay right here
I'll get the girl
Can't sleep as I think of a song
I can't remember the words but it went bom bom bom bom
my wind, my world
Ah, Those dreams with my girl
Ever notice in the life of your dreams
You're never self-loathing, or nervous or mean
It's so fine
Good times
All sorts of lives
With her hand in mine
Time and time again, I'm on the far side of Earth
They say it's different as you get old
But I doubt I'll stop myself from looking too dumb
Where is that so called spirit you speak of?
"Oh stop, you silly boy.
I told you I like you as a friend.
Oh is this for me? Why thank you.
We're still just friends.
Oh my now you say you love me.
We were just friends a week ago.
You're too attached.
It's okay, we all get that way sometimes.
Here, let's go for a ride."
"See all the boys think of me as a temptress
Like I use guys and make them do my bidding.
But you'll find I'm just trying to be nice.
We can't all be lovey dovey.
What's a girl to do?"
Feeling sappy on my own
I know someday I'd make you turn
Well it's the classical pneumonic state you're in
I can’t believe this wild wicked sin
It's in your genes, it's in your blood
It's 90 degrees
Let's flood flood flood
Time to do it tonight
There’s a wondrous secret hidden place that I like going to
And if you’re very good my sweet I’ll share this place with you
It’s half in light and half in dark between the night and day
And if you’re very quiet you can watch the fairies play
They gather in the twilight on the far side of the hill
But if you want to see them, then you must be very still
No noise or movement can you make for they are very shy
And if they see you hiding there then far away they’ll fly
I like to watch them dance and sing beneath the silver moon
And listen as they play their flutes and blow a magic tune
After they have played a while they all prepare to eat
I watch as they prepare their meal so magical and sweet
They gather stardust and moonlight and cook them in a stew
And then they fill their tiny cups with early morning dew
When they have finished dining they will start to play again
And then my dear you’ll never guess what starts to happen then
The fairies gather one and all and right before your eyes
They'll zoom into the starlit night on golden fireflies
Zipping back and forth they fly, racing with each other
They dart along the hillside, first one and then another
Chasing shooting stars they see throughout the moonlit night
They sing and dance together until morning’s early light
So if you’re good my darling child you soon will get a chance
To come with me to a magic place and watch the fairies dance
COME, COME FLY ME TO MARS
Come, come, my guiding light,
Fly me to the skies in the highest above,
To be the heavenly guest, amongst the angels,
To the hospitable, intriguing and luring destination,
Amongst the stars of heaven and their constellations!
When I ride on the wings of dusk,
Our dreams reflect through the bright moonlight.
The rising of Aries from the twilight sea,
And the setting age of Libra in the distant horizon,
Bring hopeful tides and dreams that forever rule over our destiny!
When I ski on the broad flat rings of Saturn,
I see the yellow sun rise in your sweet blue eyes.
When I settle on the far side of the roars of rough seas of Venus,
And the life giving spirit grows faint within me in Jupiter,
You illuminate me with energy and recharge my batteries!
As I journey endlessly and ascend through spacecraft,
East of the stimulating Sun and west of the arousing Moon,
To the endless new sound of the Ram’s horn,
Surely, the sun will not smite me by the day,
Nor the moon at night, with you beside me!
Come; come fly me to Mars, to our heavenly destination,
To the red planet teeming with intricate canals,
To waterways, rivers and silver lakes so intelligently designed,
To the planetary satellites, so intriguing and amusing,
Whose variety and colour continue to invoke awe and wonder!
When Mars is aligned to the Sun, Mercury, and Venus,
Saturn, Earth, and Pluto are on one straight line,
Jupiter entering Leo, Moon squatting in Capricorn,
Uranus awakening and Neptune unifying us,
Surely, love and peace will engulf us for all eternity!
Oh, my guiding light, please take my hand and show me around!
Let me see what Summers and Autumns are like in Mars,
And when we awake to the seasons of singing,
Flowers blossoming and early fruits forming,
With sweet smelling scents to adore,
Surely, this is the dawning age of our Spring in Mars
The soft glow of the moon wrapped around me
Dressing me in her while, golden splendor
My heart inhaled its awesome beauty
Standing in the warm summer eve
I watched it drop into the ocean on the far side of the shore
Underneath the canopy of silver stars
A star shot into the Universe…
I wonder just where it went
The haunting infinity of it all, the Universe and Stars
It blankets the Earth in majestic wonder
The full moon’s heart of love
Gives us life from death and death from life
As day turns into night and night into day
Do not tread lightly in the Heavens
The secrets carried by the Universe are upon your doorstep
Learn its perfume ~ listen to its delicate pearls of wisdom
Observe the constellations ~
Bend gracefully into their radiance as you listen to the messages they send
Surrender to the coming of the New Dawn…Drink deep from the rivers of all knowledge
On the other side of silence ~ on the other side of tomorrow