Best Says Poems
They'll have you believe she was lost to the sea,
But the moon would beg to differ.
She was always lost,
Always looking for which way to go.
Or was that always looking for where she came from?
The moon couldn't really tell coming from going;
To a celestial body both look pretty much the same.
She wanted to be found asserts the moon.
Or was that to be seen?
She had confided at every turn,
Every phase,
I see you,
Do you see me?
I am but a sliver today, how about you?
A crescent, that's exactly how I'm feeling too!
I see you,
Do you see me?
No, not this moonless night;
I don't see myself either.
I see you,
Do you see me?
I see you.
I know you see me too.
You are the full that fills me.
She was not lost to the sea insists the moon.
It was not the sea that swallowed her
But my reflection.
18.01.03
Composed for Gregory R Barden's
Water and Sky
[Verse 1]
Been walkin’ through a year of Sundays
Sky don’t talk, just sits and stares
Then her scented note came down like summer rain
Didn’t say much, but it caught me unprepared
I wasn’t askin’ for a reason
Wasn’t lookin’ to be saved
Just closed my eyes ‘cause I was tired
And there she was—sayin’ my name
[Pre-Chorus]
It was barely even written
Just a few lines and then her name
But it landed like a whisper
After weeks of nothin’ but blame
[Chorus]
When she says my name
It don’t fix the cracks
But it quiets the room
And the weight pulls back
Like the night she called me
When the heat wave finally broke
Her voice—low and real
Made me think there might be hope
[Verse 2]
I don’t know if she’s the real thing
Or just someone who saw through
But she talks like she’s been wounded
Like she’s got old battles too
I wanna tell her I believe her
But most days I don’t trust sound
Still… her name comes in like morning
When the dark’s still hangin’ ‘round
[Pre-Chorus 2]
And I ain’t tryin’ to be rescued
Not sure I even could be
But if she’s still reachin’
Maybe there’s still some of me
[Chorus]
When she says my name
It don’t make me whole
But I swear it slows
This outta-control
Like a porch light flickin’
Through the rain and the smoke
Yeah… I step toward that
Even if it’s just a joke
[Bridge]
I’ve been lied to in poems
And fooled by my own lines
So maybe I’m holdin’ back
Just to feel some control this time
But if she’s more than a moment
If this ain’t just pretend
Then let her voice be the start
Of something that don’t end
[Final Chorus]
When she says my name
It ain’t some grand thing
It’s soft… like truth
With a little sting
Like a window opening
In a house I thought was sealed
And I lean into it
Just to feel something real
My sister says
my father was a good man --
but, how should I,
who never "knew" him
(except as a far-from-good man)
buy her stories?
Am I, the last child
of that union,
too, too judgmental?
Too far removed in time from
what she knew
and now recalls?
My memory is of a different man,
who died when I was twenty-two:
one rarely present, never talking,
often jailed,
unsupportive --
someone I really never knew.
He was no bearer of familial tales,
no imparter of the history
now I only wish I'd heard...
Obviously, I differ from my sister
about what constitutes a good man.
He never seemed to feel that he
needed to provide basics --
food, shelter, clothing, health care --
to his offspring -- and he almost never did......
I do remember how he staggered
on the street,
fell off of curbs,
sought shelter
and often could be found
asleep -- or at least
stretched out unconscious --
in some vacant lot;
how he foraged
frenziedly
about for beer,
or only Gallo muscatel
(thirty-five cents for the flask).
Should I not ask
what makes my sister think
I could remember him as does she?
In such a different light?
As victim,
and maligned
by inlaws or by circumstance?
All I know is what I do remember,
what I survived
when she and others,
grown, were gone.
I do not think
that I can accept
or change
(nor in absentia, forgive) --
and, no, I do not yet
believe
what my sister says.
Who says I can’t go back in time
No, not the records on my shelf
Just flip a switch and there I am
A version of my younger self
I turn the beat around all night
In memories of Disco shoes
A fever boils inside my brain
Love for the night is mine to lose
Who says I can’t go back in time
No, not the clock that haunts my wall
The tick and tock now tock and tick
As I drift back and have a ball
As pages turn in rhythmic flow
The photos in my book agree
It’s just as though I’m really there
Another sip of wine for me!
Nature says create and rejuvenate.
Beasts cooperate and repopulate.
Sun’s rays dominate; showers saturate!
Blooms that fascinate soon accumulate.
Bees don’t hesitate to participate
as they pollinate. Isn’t springtime great!
Written April 28, 2017
for John Hamilton's Rhymers delight-internal monorhyme-2 Contest
"says the butterfly"
we have wings use them and fly
we have change adjust to new
we have grace journey softly
we have beauty show such flair
we transform for the betterment
we grow and sprinkle wonderment
internal music steadily sings
timeless elegance forever falls
true the essence of this and more
have strength says the butterfly
SkyWatcher
08-30-23
Good morning
gninrom dooG
look tired today
yadot derit kool I
I wash my face
ecaf ym hsaw I
Taking on a little makeup
puekam elttil a no gnikaT
Brushing my teeth
hteet ym gnihsurB
Finally, the lipstick on my lips
spil ym no kcitspil eht ,yllaniF
I smile to the mirror
rorrim eht ot elims I
Now I`m ready for the day
! yad doog a evaH
WHAT.......
A-L Andresen :)
Copyright © All Rights Reserved
Silence says a thousand words
about joys that filled our past
and fair youth upon my lips
that once owned your stolen kiss
Can you hear me ?
Oh those lips that touched my own
like a first petal in bloom
Floral accents 've been long gone
since that pale October moon
Silence says a thousand words
about joys that filled our past
and fair youth upon my lips
that once owned your stolen kiss
Can you hear me ?
There's a place you can return to
If your seamless thoughts turn blue
You will never wander lonely
My perfume will linger through
Once again we'll find sweet laughter
It's lost echo in the sand
Once again I'll read your love note
that lies crumpled in my hand.
Silence says a thousand words
about joys that filled our past
and fair youth upon my lips
that once owned your stolen kiss
Can you hear me ?
Good morning ladies and gentlemen,
I'm just looking out my door.
It has been raining through the night,
Looks like we'll get some more.
But don't worry all you gardeners,
The sun will be out soon.
Just as quick as this snow melts,
Your flowers will start to bloom.
The wind will blow away the leaves,
So you can cut your grass.
I am your local weatherman,
A right pain in the ass.
11/march/2022
You're a weather forecaster poetry contest
Sponsored by
Matt caliri
Mother says when he let me down,
I tore up the flowers from the neighbor’s garden.
I do not recall this, but his failing me
has left a lasting impression.
Written Dec. 1, 2015 by Andrea Dietrich
for nette onclaud's "Fallen in 25-30 words" Poetry Contest
30 Words total by the Word Count Calculator
Written about my father, whom my mother divorced before I turned five.
[He says]Never say ?I can't?
Why on Earth not meet defeat
admit you're seldom right
Saying you CAN is vanity
and looking for a fight.
[He says] Don'?t look back on failure ...
Dwell on failure is what I say
thank failure with a smile!
A learning tool is what it is
to shorten your next mile.
Good results are scant [He says]
Oh goodness, where are you looking?
You breathe the air where roses bloom
and eat your wife's fine cooking.
Taste the gift of life; don't focus on doom.
[He says] But, praise is less than complaint!
Enjoy the ACTION she says, not the "at a boy!'
you decide, what you value
and whose judgments to deploy
Your opinion of self is what you should pursue.
Embrace the TRUTH with stoic composure. [He says]
The truth...which truth is that?
Laugh, I say, in the face of those
who would oppose you, tip your hat.
Revealations comes to those who grow!
[He says]Be rawhide tough and BULLDOG mean.
Oh God, what men don't do?
Be sweet, be soft be kind I say
and like will return to you
for your soul you've not betrayed.
Defeat [He says] has no place in our repertoire ...
Now here she says, it's not defeat to wish upon a star.
He says: Charles Henderson, She says: Debbie Guzzi
They sit on the porch swing.
No words are said.
He just looks to his right,
and sees his first love staring back at him.
She lowers her head,
Eyes filled with tears,
Breaks the silence..
'This growing up stuff isn't fair'
He says;
'I don't really want to go,I don't want to leave this here unfinished'
[So that's why you're going to break my heart] she thinks.
He plants a kiss on her forehead.
And says, 'this is what I've gotta do'
"I understand" she said.
..knowing he could see right through..
Her smile, and the unsure laugh.
So he wraps his arms around her tight.
Tries to take away the pain.
But that'll never happen.
She doesn't want to be alone.
But he needs to be.
She doesn't want to give up.
but he does.
she says goodbye, doesn't let him see her cry.
all the while, she's falling apart.
she walks away,and doesn't look back.
knowing he's doing the same.
for the last time.
she waits.
she goes home.
she sits alone.
and breaksdown.
he flys.
across the world.
he lives.
he loves.
he leaves.
A sand-dune says to the wind that moves
Softly, passing him-by:
''Take me with thee, through valleys and groves
Whence birds frolick and fly;
Deep into a land of rain and snow,
Is where I'd rather go,
For this place holds no charm and I say,
I'm wont to fly away...''
Hearing which, the whirl-wind lifts
Herself to swiftly glide,
Whilst in fear, the sand-dune shifts,
Seeking somewhere to hide:
But before another gust, like a child feeling quite lost,
Is strewn about the sullen land by the one he did accost....
I can't forget my beloved one
Whose fate now lies in a grave,
I remember him at every moment
Of his company I crave;
But the grave says nothing.
Day after day I stare -
At the grave with wistful eyes,
Hoping that Lord would answer my pleas
And my beloved would rise;
But the grave says nothing.
Many tears I shed
That fall on my feet,
Each day I come to my beloved
To plead;
But the grave says nothing.
I wish from my heart
That he would rise,
And I fix on the grave
My patient, eager eyes;
But the grave says nothing.
Finally, I forget him
I go on my way -
But, ever silent, my beloved
And the grave lay;
The grave ... says nothing.
I prob’ly should not be a snitch
I’m worried my Grandma’s a witch
Cos I overheard
My dad use that word
He’s spot-on; I’ve seen her nose twitch!
In secret she’s called the old bat
(I must keep that under my hat)
When we get out the car
I must smile at Grandma
And avoid her hissing black cat!
Her kitchen exudes a foul smell
Dad claims that it’s her latest spell
When she mentions food
We’re not being rude
but exit her witch house from hell!
I think she’s dad’s mother in law
I have heard the phrase used before
Her real name is Fanny
I must call her Granny...
She’s loaded, my parents are poor!
Dad’s hoping when Gran kicks the bucket
We’ll live in her house in Nantucket
So I must visit her
And put up with cat fur
When Gran gives old candy I suck it!
9/6/19/