Long Better late than never Poems
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At twenty-three, Brett found his girl,
A green-eyed vision with strawberry curls,
A year of dating came and went,
And wedding bells the sky did rent.
Life was good, he worked as a welder,
And rushed at night, tales to tell her
Of buildings built and bridges spanned,
Far and wide across this great land.
But as he watched football on his day off,
While he watched the Giants, nursed a cough,
His fun interrupted by a sudden call,
And from his hands the phone would fall.
While out getting some groceries,
A trucked plowed his wife’s car into a tree.
And as if just to make the situation worse,
She was just four months from giving birth…
He fell quite hard, into depression,
Triggered merely by his wife’s mention.
For years he took refuge in hard drink,
Lost his job, and was pushed to the brink.
With nowhere to go, he moved back home,
His parents watched, they heard his groans,
And knew there was little they could do,
But be there and hope that he pulled through.
At thirty, after a long stint in rehab,
He stopped the drinking, and drove a cab,
Eventually moving up to a long-haul truck,
Made some good money, improved his luck.
One day at thirty eight he pulled in
To a truck stop diner, for late dining.
The waitress, May, proved a friendly soul,
Thirty-seven, dirty blond, eyes of coal.
After eating they talked like old pals,
Then went to his rig for something else,
He got her number, and she got his.
They agreed to be friends-with-benefits.
And every time he drove on through,
Each the other they hotly pursued,
It seemed to him to be all too fleeting,
And ever harder when it came to leaving.
A year went by and Brett came in,
And found a worried-looking benefits-friend
She said he’d given her something great,
Fruit of the passion of his many stays.
Brett felt a fool, they were quite a pair,
Like two overeager and foolish teenagers,
But as he thought of it more, it became clear,
Brett never wanted to again leave here.
So Brett married May, and their child came,
Then another a year down, more of the same!
He found himself juggling two screaming boys,
At age thirty-nine, the late nights and the toys!
But Brett didn’t care, better late than never
And with May he would remain forever.
And give thanks to God whenever he prayed,
For showing him that even tragedy fades…
The best writters write about what they know
So i was told or so the story goes
So what better then to write about than one's very own family and lasting memories
So let me start by saying this is neither a good or happy one to tell
And to this day still leaves a bitter taste and so many questions left unanswered
And is about or revolves around the treatment of my grandad by his only son
My Mum is one of 2 children 7 year's older than her younger brother Thomas
Who used to visit his daughter lisa
regularly who lived right next door adjacent to his childhood home
And when seeing him pulling up the smile upon my granddad face as he used to think our Thomas will be calling in to see us when he is done only to be replaced by pain and embarrassment when he cruely drove away
People used to say and it was widely thought or known in jest that i was my granddads favorite
But i knew that sadly wasn't true and
my place when he looked right through me and nothing i could do say could reconcile his broken heart
Luckily my Mum came home to live and look after her father and nursed him until the day he died when he eventually called in
The prodigal son then returned with will in hand
to take over proceedings from here on in
Better late than never i suppose ?
Oh yeah that's right
Sorry that phrase does not apply
in this case
As to why you let him die or go to his
grave without explaing ?
What exactly he could have done so wrong
to have had such a bitter vindictive son ?
Just how cruel and careless can 1 human be to another
than not to afford them 1 single moment of your precious time
No final word no venting no getting off your chest
no restitution no absolution
You used to go out with his best friend for a pint
to the pub for a drink but never invited him
And told your sister upon her arrival back to look after him
you can come and stay with us you can't stay with him his house is not liveable in
You through whom i ended up buying and owning the deeds to your family home because that you grew up in as a child
because you valued money and wanted your share and half
Who you eventually came to realize that which you prize
I now own i will never sell back to thee
Because what you did to my granddad your father was
genuinely unforgivable
Send that message
That signal so far
Is there a tower, some beam
That could speak to that distant star
A million miles
Separated
Years on that rocket
Could get anyone jaded
We looked up as kids
That glitter caught our eyes
Stole our hearts
Spun beautiful lies
How pretty those stars were
To we who didn't know better
Now to think, we can catch those dreams?
How silly
How childish of a dream that seems
Those stars and their lovely call
Telling us they weren't really that far at all
How so very pretty they were
To we, captivated, who didn't know better
Should've known better
Years on that ship
In the dark
In the cold
In those places
Where space is
So twisted and uncontrolled
So close we come
To the warmth of that distant Sun
Cast out again
In our rocket we spin
Flung into the deep and the darkness we float again
Lost and trying to find
Blink that message out to
Some other lonely mind
Not sure it will land when we're this far out
Where words fall like feathers
The silence a deafening shout
How so very pretty those stars still are
We do know better
But will still go so far
Through that crystal wall
Cold
Never ending
Straight into those glittering flames
Heart rending
Should've known better
Will never know better
What code is that beaming
That we could know better
God knows we try
Though our message lost
In that vacuum between where our signal gets tossed
about
Battered and broken
Words bridging the void just
To never be spoken
Its meaning we dance
about
We were taught so much better
Why don't we do better
Than flying alone
Should be cruising the stars together
How loud
How big
Should that signal be
Put a tower on the moon
If it'll call you to me
To visit those glittering specks we admired
Validate and make real that to which we aspired
Lost a wing?
Here take mine
May take a while, but we'll get there in time
Better late than never
Seeing wonders together
Than spinning out, fuel down low, lost to forever
There is a better
Not hard to do better
Sift through the noise
For that message to weather
The chaos, the static, the cosmic melee
So two rockets can find
One another
And play
In the glittering warmth of some star far away.
Born of stardust to experience duality.
Should I thank my Ancestors for providing a path to me?
They say sweet baby don't you cry.
But I don't know how to lie.
They say an empty vessel makes too much noise.
But I don’t know how to fill it with my voice.
They say look before you leap.
But I am afraid I will fall in too deep.
They say seek the daily truth.
But I am afraid it won't suit.
They say the tone of your voice speaks louder than your words.
But I have an amplifier with me to be heard.
They say an ounce of protection is worth a pound of cure.
But I have none of the symptoms for sure.
They say listen to your heart's melody.
But I have a brain to follow my heresy.
They say temper your ego for it does not know divine timing.
But I love me being me in finding.
They say put your best foot forward.
But I love to read books with no foreword.
They say explore all paths and leave no stone unturned.
But I love to get lost in the woods in turns.
They say a rolling stone gathers no moss.
But I proclaim so do the stones that cost.
They say temper your ignorance, superstition and fear.
But I proclaim to be present here to be rid of fear.
They say being part is being whole.
But I proclaim everything is the same in the blackhole.
They say push the envelope
But I proclaim it is better first to say hello.
They say listen to your heart and intuition.
But I seek the proper instructions.
They say don't stop believing.
But I seek fulfilled living.
They say wrap your troubles in dreams and dream them away.
But I seek clarity when I am awake.
They say see the true colors and hear the true sounds.
I now know that is the source of true surrounds.
They say time shall heal all wounds.
I now know patience is a key to making mounds.
They say all is well that ends well.
I now know there is no journey, it's all destinations.
They say bridge the gap.
I go to formless from form.
They say inform yourself to reform yourself.
I go into the void where there is no self.
They say better late than never.
I go where there is no time.
Thank you for holding the truths and sowing tender love.
Now it's my turn to shine the light and reap tenderly in the Gardens of Thoughts.
the (better late than never)
free admission confession, exhortations against Ole Saint Nick
treasured untold shenanigans of Santa,
his elves and reindeer discovered only
by colluding via "FAKE" fluke
did I manage to worm winning the trust
among Christmas elves and reindeer
confident this generic guy,
would never breach scandalous
tidbits, into an underground impregnable
air-raid shelter, the Motley Crue
tied blindfold over my eyes, didst steer
me hermetically sealed,
which crawl space required me to hunker
sound (cloud) proof bunker
while ensconced (security detail munchkins,
who just so happened tubby *****
minded entrance portal)
only after getting the thumb up signal,
whereat nose pies planted
espionage surveillance devices
the chief head honcho and attendants,
Smoky and the bandits respectively,
magically, and handily did appear
and despite one hundred percent bug-free,
a whispered stance opted just to make sure
no unwanted eavesdropper could overhear
plus every participant swore an oath, cuz
any leaked real or “FAKE” information,
would spell imminent demise to be near
the upshot, sans grave emergency
describing clandestine arraignment
involving some rogue elf
(most likely at least two),
and a misbehaving reindeer
(names withheld to avoid any spoiler alert),
plus this entire kit and caboodle
necessary to help Saint Nick
got wind, (and subsequently reined in)
a rave party with orgiastic
sex, drugs and rock and roll
that a band-aided elf(ves)
laced with Pepper Minstix
(anonymously hashtagged Sodom and Gomorrah)
sullied pure as the driven snow repute,
when aliasing Sugarplum Mary (“FAKE NAME”)
detected snorting cocaine
codenamed Alabaster Snowball, while additionally
besmirching her virginity via coital cavorting
amidst a Bushy Evergreen
shaking as if frenzied
with feverish boogie woogie flu
which seductive, prurient,
and master baiter friend zeed
(spunky Gangnam style) Shinny Upatree
which could slay Wunorse Openslae reputation
as substance abusers,
and sex offenders if not worse.
From generation to generation
Times have changed so much
By leaps and bounds
Back when technology did not exist
I grew up in a family of 13 kids
Survival was the game of life
Working hard day and night
Trying to make a better life
Nothing was easy
You just did your best
And hoped to reap some reward
Since I tried to live my life
Like an open book
I thought you’d understand
I helped raise six hungry kids
Fed them, sent them to school
And gave them their wings
Six impressionable little minds
Had I known my words would mean so much
All I knew was you needed to be tough
To be ready to face life
So I taught you what I learned
Convinced all you needed were the basics
And you would find your way
I didn’t think I’d be doing you any favours
By painting rosy pictures and
I wouldn’t have known how
My models were two hard working parents
Whose fulltime job was to feed and clothe 13 kids
Barely making ends meet
No time for dreams, barely time for sleep
Too exhausted to even keep up
With the treadmill of daily living
Like baby birds I sent you off from the nest
To stretch your new wings and fly on your own
Find your way and do better than me if you could
I didn’t think I was remiss I gave it my all
Careful not to lose myself in the process
Teeter tottering to maintain balance
Keeping that all important flame alive within
So one day I could be free again to be me
I wish I had told you more often
That I love you and I’m proud of you
I thought my actions would speak louder than words
We each have our journey to live and learn from
I am watching over you from above
Better late than never
I want to tell you today that I love you
And I hope you have a fulfilling life
Until we meet again
Dad xx
AP: Honorable Mention 2021
version published in photo/poetry book ~UNCONDITIONAL LOVE LETTER TO MY CHILDREN~ 2020 / photos by TIMOTHY McGUIRE
Submitted on April 5, 2018 for NON-ROMANTIC LOVE CONTEST sponsored by EMILE PINET
and September 8, 2017 for HELP ME FALL IN LOVE CONTEST sponsored by MYSTIC ROSE
...exhortations against Ole Saint Nick
(alternately titled untold treasured shenanigans of Santa)
his elves and reindeer discovered only
by colluding via "FAKE" fluke
did I manage to worm winning the trust
among Christmas elves and reindeer
confident this generic guy,
would never breach scandalous
tidbits, into an underground impregnable
air-raid shelter, the Motley Crue
tied blindfold over my eyes, didst steer
me hermetically sealed,
which crawl space required me to hunker
sound (cloud) proof bunker
while ensconced (security detail munchkins,
who just so happened tubby *****
minded entrance portal)
only after getting the thumb up signal,
whereat nose pies planted
espionage surveillance devices
the chief head honcho and attendants,
Smoky and the bandits respectively,
magically, and handily did appear
and despite one hundred percent bug-free,
a whispered stance opted just to make sure
no unwanted eavesdropper could overhear
plus every participant swore an oath, cuz
any leaked real or “FAKE” information,
would spell imminent demise to be near
the upshot, sans grave emergency
describing clandestine arraignment
involving some rogue elf
(most likely at least two),
and a misbehaving reindeer
(names withheld to avoid any spoiler alert),
plus this entire kit and caboodle
necessary to help Saint Nick
got wind, (and subsequently reined in)
a rave party with orgiastic
sex, drugs and rock and roll
that a band-aided elf(ves) hest
laced with Pepper Minstix
(anonymously hashtagged Sodom and Gomorrah)
sullied pure as the driven snow repute,
when aliasing Sugarplum Mary (“FAKE NAME”)
detected snorting cocaine
codenamed Alabaster Snowball,
while additionally besmirching her virginity
via coital cavorting amidst a Bushy Evergreen
shaking as if frenzied with feverish boogie woogie flu
which seductive, prurient,
and master baiter friend zeed
(spunky Gangnam style) Shinny Upatree
which could slay Wunorse Openslae reputation
as substance abusers,
and sex offenders if not worse.
Form:
when upon grasping in the fridge
for a bottle of hot sauce
amidst the myriad of styles
collected for the taste,
her/his hand grasped hold of a
teriyaki hot sauce,
something of which s/he him/herself
thought that s/he’d created
one early eve,
upon returning from work
with a hungry stomach &
nothing but frozen potatoes to
microwave & just a little butter
to be had---
whence administering the cayenne
sauce, of which Frank’s was all
that roamed free in the vacant
box of ice,
s/he’d chosen to mix it with the soy sauce
left over from an attempt at a
Schezwan dish a few nights earlier &
in retrospect, the taste was
something that s/he swore s/he’d repeat,
given the right circumstances &
the right desire.
when s/he was younger &
tinkering in her/his dad’s garage, s/he
nailed two leather straps to two corresponding
planks of wood, then
slipping her booted feet in,
s/he got atop a snow hill & slid down
with her/his weight a few feet,
before falling face down in the snow
that had not yet really packed in &
alas,
s/he didn’t let the light bulb glow further,
instead, discovering with the rest of us later
that this invention would come to be known as
the “snowboard” &
that “snowboarding” would become a zillion dollar
industry---
so,
one can imagine that when s/he saw that
some company who makes hot sauces,
had already put two & two together,
mixing soy sauce with a cayenne based sauce,
s/he was quite dissatisfied to say the least &
after unscrewing the cap, licking the top to check
the taste,
the anger built up inside &
s/he him/herself felt that s/he was one step away
from smashing the bottle on the kitchen floor
in a fit of rage,
because s/he’d have to go on working the rest of
his/her life,
when joe/jen schmo would get to live out
the rest of their lives
sipping Mai Tais, greased up in coconut oil on
some beach---
but then that light bulb did kick in,
if not better late than never
&
s/he did not smash the bottle,
because after all,
it was goddamned tasty.
Awareness about behavior,
present since mine days of yore
an unswerving allie analogous
to peacekeeper ending civil war
belated insight suddenly realized
(better late than never) doth underscore
incumbent proactive communication stance
belatedly bestowed omnipotent awareness
crucial fostering ingredient to shore
maternal bond above
bejesus ear splitting roar
I admit regret (to self), there
dost belie suppressed yen to pour
out sorrows 'twixt this sole him son,
and long deceased mother, he
deprived her his love and outwore
the Scottish tartan Harris tweed
welcome (haz) mat, which pained
materialized soon after her death, nor
can compensation be made,
now ex post facto,
when futility of spilt tears got more
gauged and swept away, when
nary a trace I privately cried
amidst lachrymose lakeshore.
20/20 hindsight brought me unflagging mast
into stark painful focus,
essentially how mine
formative behavior wrought avast
dystopian emotional fractured mindscape,
which non positive coping methods
lit fuse kindling devastating catastrophic blast
from yesteryear to present silent woebegone
desolate gloomy terrain past
grandeur eclipsed by present gloom
finds yours truly stranded like cast
away bleached flotsam upon coast
amidst tempestuous rocky shoals
clinging for dear life with grasp fast,
Where tenuous, precarious,
and ludicrous ship
of state can no longer maintain
even a marginal grip
but with slight equip
age willing, wedding,
and wanting brings relief from whip
lashed incurred (within body) showing rip
pulled scarred taut welts testimony, sans
long electrified with aggravation,
excruciation, and intoleration can easily flip
a figurative switch in summary
ushering final lip
service to charade,
facade, and masquerade
at lightspeed didst clip
this...Potemkin Village,
where everything "FAKE,"
asper envisioning flickr
ring mirage recounting ancient Egypt!
In a cold and rainy day
I perceive the winds that blow away
Raindrops plummet on the ground
With its strong and deafening sound
Though the heaven isn’t clear
But laughter is what I hear
Little children feel so much excitement
For it would be their awaited moment
But not all are ready for their presentation
What I can see are movements and actions
“Oh yes teacher! This is the day,
But can we have a final practice, is it okay?”
I nod my head with a smile
So I’ve wait for a while
Jolly moves and sweet voices
With so much enthusiasm on their faces
I call everybody’s attention
So we could start the presentation
But some kids are not yet around
They aren’t yet in the school bound
“Where are they?” I ask
“Ma’am, they are still preparing props”
Kids respond with a sad heart
Then I inform them that we are about to start
Seconds and minutes of waiting
But yet, no one is coming
Outside their eyes are staring
And minds are too busy thinking
I decide to start the caroling
And so the first group starts singing
But then they are still hoping
That their colleagues are coming
At the end of the occurrence they arrive
With nervousness that is so hard to hide
Teary-eye they came
But no one to blame
They’re thinking that their efforts are useless
For it seems that there are no chances
They feel too hopeless
And lose their self confidence
I do my part as teacher
Words of encouragement for them to be better
“It’s okay my dear”
“It’s better late than never”
It’s a Christmas carol
They’re bringing attractive decors
Excellent grades are what they want to savor
Eager to end it with flying colors
I bestow them another chance
For they are in good hands
I want them to succeed and be happy
Their success is what I want to see
by : JOYZEL MAE P. SOTES
dedicated to : Grade VI pupils of Calatrava I Central School
December 11, 2013