Long Til now Poems
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Every Girl looked at me with envy
As I move with grace and perfection
But they don’t know my story
Or the life I live in seclusion
I wonder if they also wish upon a star
Like how I wish to be wherever you are
I wonder what kind of dream they’re dreaming
Or the kind of music they’re playing
If only these diamonds, rubies, and riches
I can trade for a single friend
Not one that kiss like Judas
But one who sticks ‘til the end
Can I trade them all to change your mind?
To stay with me, not leaving me behind
To fill my world with your music again
If not as lovers, then as a friend?
Can I trade them all to fill this void?
To mend my heart that you’ve once destroyed
To turn back time to those good old days
When there’s just me and you and the music you plays
The day you walked away with your guitar
You leave in me an aching scar
I know it’s fair for you to go somehow
But why does the pain lingers til now?
I am a Princess
been wanting to fly without wings
But you are a travelling musician
And the world needs to hear you sing
________end________________
Appreciate you taking time to read this poem.
You may also visit my other poem
This is a trilogy.
The 1st poem title : "The Assassin Knight"
The second : Princess' Wish
And third: The travelling musician.
May you will be bless with love, joy, success and bounty in life.
Her conversation
chose pick of words
things he'd never thought
he'd ever hear
and things he was happy
to have heard
she told him she loved him
and would be glad to
be his wife
a desire to settle down
he'd be her partner for life
I pause to think
a excitement overwhelmed me
a nervous anticipation
ah joy that overwhelms me
I'll ask you then
for the world to see
Too complex for quietness
too many words could undermine
Ia silly grin
exposed me
everyone knew what was on my mind
a Suttle harmony
a melody so eccentric
love over whelmes me
a passion within
what a special gesture
my lover and friend
the ivy crunches ‘neath my boot
cold sounds that crisp the winds
a snow has left its whitened soot
not just the ground
but with age found
my head and cheeks … and chin …
I walked here in my younger years
these vines then new and green
my heart baptized with callow tears
from then ‘til now
each solemn vow
and all oaths in-between …
the mem’ries of this green-clad place
disturb my thoughts to yearn
for how these buildings did embrace
each soul and mind
that searched to find
through toil, what it could learn …
I stumbled there from brick to brick
thru schoolwork, loves and friends
but most of life came much too quick
and good or bad
that bumbling lad
climbed ropes too near their ends …
now here I stroll those bricks, the same
day’s close paints pink, the reach
I see each face, each smile, each name
of those, then dear
but now, I fear
too far-flung to beseech …
still, priceless are the days now gone
and precious through their end
for mem’ries push me always on
to quite adore
life making more
sweet days like this to wend …
sweet days … like THIS.
Copyright © Gregory Richard Barden, March 11, 2024
( photograph of my prep school, North Yarmouth Academy, taken from my 1976 yearbook )
We called it Decoration Day
When I was just a kid
And up ‘til now, I never knew
Exactly why we did.
I always thought that it referred
To stripes that soldiers earned
Or stars and bars for officers,
But that’s not what I learned.
I googled it to double-check
And found out I was wrong.
The “decorations” were for graves
And have been all along.
For each serviceman who fought
And lost his life in sacrifice,
Just a marker on his resting place
Would simply not suffice.
So as tribute and remembrance,
With a flag or a bouquet,
We should beautify a soldier’s grave
On Decoration Day.
No matter what you call it,
When our flag is flown half-mast,
Take a moment for reflection
On our soldiers who have passed.
when the storms blow in
I cradle your bones
flesh pressed upon flesh
moments of high electricity
as sky begins her show
I empty my bottle
and you yours
twin peaks permeate
the choir of your haze
I stand in the music
your smokey comfort
pondering my wasted life,
til now
caressing your femina
addiction pulls me closer
stuttering across ancient memories
noticing nothing
my mind wanders forward
undeveloped
undressed in thought
nickers tossed
towards the stage
I sing on
staring deeply
into what I dually crave
those forever eyes
it all began
then
to rhyme
perchance
in time
to find
a cinquain
vignette
peut-etre
cinqku
or crystalline
monoku
broken
of course
in two
half-cinquain
(lanterne)
to you
Ekphrasis
new
betwixt
a perfect
six
plus
crosswise
spaces
into
the mix
'til
my cartoon
art
plays its
unique
part
upon
my stage
with
footle wit
'til now
free verse
at ease
I
knit
Stacks of Aloneness
by Odin Roark
He wandered here among the longings
And the forgotten,
Not many remaining properly covered,
Their dust jackets of protection
Long gone.
Worn and torn,
The many leaned fatigued in their shoulder to shoulder exile,
With an occasional entombment in plastic wrap
Sweltering in the heat of its many paged passion.
He saw there was something for every kind of aloneness,
Requiring only to be read,
Not bought and placed on another shelf,
But made companion,
A redemptive power for continuing,
often singular journey of aloneness.
A sudden draft from the entrance door
Fluttered the pages of an ancient pyramid travel guide,
The open page 86 sent miniscule sand afloat,
Including its stowaway squashed flea,
Having once bitten the privates of the book’s looting bandit,
Now reduced to but another powdery remnant of history
He gazed upon the shaft of light spotlighting the settling dust.
Such never-ending stacks of tomes, he thought.
A mix of direct and implied philosophy of time,
Some read and pondered,
Others once he knew were but color-matched bindings for
A decorator’s intellectual pandering to
A 5th Avenue looky-loo,
Someone wanting the perfect life,
A delusion her inheritance
Could ever accommodate.
And then…
There was this one opus, ‘til now he knew not of.
Here, the fortune of lovers lying side by side
Beneath the weight of print and paper,
Shared a vial of death, now empty.
A desperate love wanting only to be read,
To be understood as prohibited emotion
Reduced to a finite repose in the darkness of closure,
Like the unopened book now about to have its long awaited embrace.
From his hand he placed the worn book down for ring up.
The clerk opened the cover to reveal its eye-pencil message:
“To my love. May you live long enough to finish this.”
Smiling to the obviously homeless man,
the clerk said, “Just a buck, including tax. Gotta love a bargain, eh?”
“Yes,” he said. “They say the bard knew aloneness needn’t be lonely.
Think he was right?”
She shrugged.
He handed her four quarters.
In my linen closet
There are sheets that go way back.
In going through them, I have made
A quite imposing stack:
The brown and orange flowered ones
Of hippie-ish décor;
My husband’s, used to cover
His old mattress on the floor.
Our first set as a couple,
With bamboo boughs, colored peach
And all the rest on shelves I need
A ladder just to reach.
My kids’ twin-sized cartoony ones
Or those with baseball themes;
The extra-long sheets for the dorm
Which held some college dreams.
It’s finally time to winnow down
All those we haven’t used
In many years and which to ditch
I’ve up ‘til now refused.
I’d heard the ASPCA
Accepts old sheets and such
So they will find another home –
I will not miss them much.
Yet still, I’m sad to see them go
But I won’t be too vexed
Because I’ll have to face the fact
The towels will be next!
There is a piece I've longed to share,
which, up 'til now, I wouldn't dare,
where courage pushes fear aside
and shackles up my foolish pride...
To put to words, as much for me,
affection in simplicity,
and say those things I wished I could...
that chance may now be gone for good.
I near succumbed to COVID's wrath;
now, barricades deny clear path -
a bottleneck for oxygen.
So much to tell; where to begin?
A battle raged; a drawn-out war
that ended with a winning score:
I pulled ahead - a blessed reprieve;
the reaper's gone; yet, still, I grieve.
For scars remain; we coexist.
Not given up; I will persist,
but dreams? There was one 'mong the few:
to hold you close and sing for you...
A tune that melds our hearts together,
and keeps us warm through stormy weather,
a lullaby to ease all fear
and let you know how much I care.
But vocals won't cooperate;
on ev'ry nerve the raucous grates.
Those singing days are done, it seems;
some visions, sadly, dwell in dreams.
If fate insists that I must wait,
this voice will ring at Heaven's gate!
So, pardon, if I'm way off-tune;
at least, at last, Love will shine through!!
Jodie
5/23/25
Running out of time as the clock keeps
ticking away
You hope you can change his mind and
make him stay
It's only been a long fight keeping it
together til now
Knowing all you've been through you ask
yourself how
Blinded by false hope praying the past
was the past
The wounds never heal while scars and
memories last
Instead of facing his demons he runs thd
other way
There's no way to stop time soon it will be
another day
You are losing him and soon he will be out
of sight
Determination is in your blood
morning,noon,and night
He is on your mind all day long and in your
dreams
Trying to break this cycle is much harder
than it seems
It is so hard to just give up,allowing him to
slip away
While the pain and determination get
stronger everyday