Can I say enough?
Compiled and ranked by importance:
Crucial for hot fudge
Companionable with nuts
Chip components of the 20th century's greatest invention - the chocolate chip cookie
Captivating to lovers
Conflicts have been fought over it
Didn't make old bones, me dad,
Taken from us far too young
Barely reached his sixties when
He was killed by Farmers’ Lung.
Too many dusty threshing days,
Noxious fumes dipping sheep,
He seemed to live a life
Just to eat, work and sleep.
A farm labourer which made
Him a man of many skills,
No time for a doctor’s visit,
No time for potions and pills.
Loved greenhouse and garden
But he loved even more
Lonely walks across the fields
Carrying a loaded twelve bore.
Not a sportsman shooter,
No, everything he shot
Very gratefully accepted
Into the family cooking pot.
A man of quiet wisdom who
Set me standards to live by
And most importantly showed.
A man at times is allowed to cry.
We never really did talk much
Never did have much to say
Sitting watching the old TV
In our quiet companionable way.
He looks back at me in the mirror,
As I look back at him with pride
So glad I could be with him
At his side the day he died.
I sat there with quiet pride
For I really hadn't suspected
That my dad had been
So very well respected.
The church was packed
On his funeral day
Most of the village came to
Quietly send him on his way.
It's funny, the random things that remind you
of what a lovely place the world can sometimes be.
Like two little birds alighting on a wire,
as you emerge from the underground
just at dusk on a Thursday:
two weightless silhouettes,
suspended in the pre-star sky.
I wonder what journeys they've seen;
if they are recounting the day's adventures,
or merely resting in companionable silence
as the sun takes its final bow.
our
campsite
comforting
comfortable
companionable, conversational
captivating
cathartic
complete
we
They are many loves in this life
things, people, and whatever we choose
but for me, it's something special
that brings peace that does soothe
To be in the state of solitude
this is sheet bliss forever sure
no pressure of any kind at all
makes my thoughts feel so pure
Solitude takes away all stress
my every fibre feels like new
every muscle sounds much stronger
brings colour like delightful sky blue
In the middle of the night
being not able to get sleep
there you find real solitude
you alone everybody else asleep
Every little sound seems so close
where darkness looms one cannot see
but the ears pick up hearing all
causing the mind to be set free
(" I have never found a companion that was so companionable as solitude" - Henty David Thoreau) (1917-1862)
Desire glides in on calico wings,
a breath of a moth
seeking a companionable light,
where it hovers, unsure,
sullen, shy or demure,
in the margins of night,
a soft blur.
With a frantic dry rattle
of alien wings,
it rises and thrums one long breathless staccato
and flutters and drifts on in dark aimless flight.
And yet it returns
to the flame, its delight,
as long as it burns.
I tried to reason with it
But it was just hard doing it
I tried to grab the hilt
But I still couldn't stand on my feet
I know, that's why I tried to make some reason
That your heart for me can never be awaken
And you will never see reasons as the way am seeing
Especially when everything seems to you creepy
I tried to tell my heart
That it is never similar to your heart
But my blinded thoughts tells me you are very much companionable
And that enough to its ignorance, is reasonable
I barred my heart again and again
Thinking all the thoughts will leave with the rain
But they just didn't follow the drain
Instead they forever got stuck in my brain
I know this moment will forever not stay
And will rise to another day
So I permit you what is of yours to gain
And forever the days will be not the same
And I will be hopeless as I wait
That I pray in my wish you won't come again
But only that your feelings should always against
And make the long lost time a waste
The companionable ills, short heavy breaths
with which I force the wind into my blood,
chill and whisper- that I am not 'complete',
that my youth has 'run dry', and yet this poison lets
me the world unfolding with unforeseeable possibilities:
the jut skulls of mountains, fields of ripening wheat,
ubiquity rising like a dove above the landscape
and thundering down along the troubled feet of the city,
I am at home with my lonely sorrow.
This is a very special moment in time
As in the companionable solitude I contemplate whimsical things,
Surrounded by the forest's brilliant shades of lime
And the delicate violas nodding to me from the fairy rings,
Clad in soft shades of every color of the rainbow,
So pretty they could nearly be the fairies themselves,
Dancing in time to the breezes that blow
And sporting with the fun-loving elves.
In the near distance flows a waterfall,
Laughing at the silliness of how my thoughts wander.
Shining with its droplets, songbirds cheerily call
As they weave through the cool mists surrounding the cascade of thunder.
The distant music of the forest beckons to me,
Inviting me into its intricate symphony,
Intriguing me with its intimate mystery,
Entreating me with its limitless fantasy.
Written June 1, 2014
How many ways can a heart break?
When do the cracks first appear?
How soundless is the first hairline fracture?
It starts to spread
Almost unnoticed
Imperceptible
Except for a little discomfort
A little doubt
A little sadness
Unsure why or how
But….a little pain begins to develop...
A forgotten smile
A withheld word
An embrace that ends a little too soon
A kiss a little less fiery than before
A look that no longer devours
A caress that no longer ignites
A time that is no longer shared
A silence that is not companionable
A dream that is dreamt alone
The break widens
The pain deepens
And no amount of denial
Will alter the awful truth
That your heart is breaking..
And now you can hear the sounds
Of the walls crumbling
And the pieces falling
And you’re left to wonder...
How many ways can a heart break?
Where have all the pieces gone?
When did the first sign appear?
How can you carry on?
Eileen Manassian Ghali
Grandpa
My grandsons,
Lee, Eoin, Christopher, Rowick.
A boy needs a Grandpa,
for man-to-man talks.
To go hand in hand,
on companionable walks.
To fix up his toys,
when they no longer go.
To tell him the things,
little boys want to know.
A boy needs a Grandpa,
to show him the way.
To handle a puppy,
to teach him fair play.
To impart bits of wisdom,
he's learned through the years.
That it's no disgrace,
for a man to shed tears.
A boy needs a Grandpa,
to sit on his lap.
And if no one is looking,
they take a wee nap.
Each wrapped in an aura,
of love and esteem.
Each smiling gently,
at some special dream.
Love comes in many shades
Ranged as on a colour chart
From “like” to “can’t live without”
Some love knows only sunlight
Others inhabit the dark places
Some are shallow and superficial
Others deep and intensive
Love can simply be physical
Or a mere infatuation
It can be companionable, platonic
Or purely spiritual
Love is both simple and complex.
Often at the same time
It can be of the moment
Or woven through the fabric of your life
It can be merely a veneer
Or layered in strata
But the simple truth is that love
Is the glue that holds the universe together
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.