Never had I met you
Still I know your name,
Because of the notoriety
Because of the fame
Written in stone
Forever and a day,
Many gone too soon
Seems to happen that way
Halls of Hollywood memories
Echo down the tomb ...
In a place of reverie
Not a place of gloom
Legends of the silver screen
Lives of cinema and script,
Lying in silent repose
In walls of the crypt
Living on in pictures
In ghostly black and white,
Gone but not forgotten
Under legacy's bright light
I can leave a flower ...
Can touch your nameplate,
In life I could never
Get near one so great.
A life in tree-lined poetry
Once I was a cook on the high seas and worked long days
seven days a week; Eater and Christmas meant more work
baking cakes and baking bread.
It was not only tiring but boring to seafarers like solid
food that they are used to from home, which makes
cooking into a job of blindfolded ennui.
No wonder cooks turn to drink, the combination
of long hours, infinitely making meat cakes and mash
can send anyone into the abyss of insanity
For my next job, I learned to cook books and found
I had my latent talent how to make stories, to make
the numbers tally; I could sit in a soft chair doing this.
For a reason, lost in the fog of the past, I ended up
a counsellor, a strange occupation, telling the unlucky
not to drink, when at night enjoying a whisky or two.
I was found out and sacked; how shocked they were
the justly seniors took my license and nameplate on
the door, hounded me out of town.
There was one escape, back to sea and cooking stuff
long were the hours when not reading self-help books
until some said: “aren’t you the one who got fired?
It's happy anniversary again
thirty one years seems not long
but so thankful for all your love
every echo within makes a great song
Thirty one and going strong
looking forward to many more
together as one sweet union
We shall see what's on store
This past years been hard
but soon be on better plain
as we look on to our Lord
His plans are never in vain
Thanks for our yesterday's
our tomorrow's are in His love
together many more to celebrate
my love constantly on your nameplate
( Today is Christine and my 31st wedding anniversary so this is written to celebrate that fact in dedicating this piece to my lovely wife for all her love and care. )
The Candlemaker’s Office
was sparsely filled.
The worn brass door knob —
a patina
countless hands
slipping over its surface,
polished and discolored
by each touch.
That oak door —
turning my wrist
lean into it
fighting the rub
door against frame
hearing single pane glass
rattle —
I’d pushed through.
His wall —
dirty darkened oak
framed a wall of glass
allowing The Candlemaker
to gaze
upon
people
machine
if he chose —
yet his view
on equal footing
not elevated
a humble oversight.
Flooring —
off-white asbestos
set in squares
dark from factory dirt
moved by the feet of workers.
A lone green metal desk —
flanked by a single gray file cabinet:
adding machine,
rotary phone,
worn desk blotter,
barometer,
a nameplate
should you not know who he was.
Similar version previously published by Ink, Sweat and Tears 2019
No thoughts, no consciousness
Echo the sound of strangled cry
Can't escape
Take my hand
The dark dungeons without the breath of life
Deeper than you can imagine
Can't escape
Take my hand
Weak, so unbelievably weak
The bitter cold darkness
Can't escape
Take my hand
The death is so overwhelming
The door without nameplate conquers the fear
Can't escape
Take my hand
The sun goes down, deep unconsciousness
The reality is that you are kapein on your own boat
Can't escape
Take my hand
04.05.2018
Sun :) A-L Andresen :(
Copyright © All Rights Reserved
(unrhymed couplets)
- My father-in-law died today
- Bless his soul - Rest in peace
- You are deeply missed "Bessen"
I could see your excitement
Each time you picked up the phone
The only thing you always asked—
Daughter, when are you coming home
Very soon, I always replied
What can I get you father?
Chocolate candy with a soft core
You said, if it’s not a big bother
I visited year after year
Basking in your love and pride
While rolling the candy in your mouth
You smiled always,bright and wide
Later I came and sat with you
Looking into your eyes for recognition
But I was lost deep in your haze
A stranger worthy of suspicion
I don’t know how to visit your house now
The empty wheelchair would still be there
Your nameplate hanging on the gate
And mother—with her wrists bare
Written on :11/26/2016
Contest:Nostalgia
The Harmony
I saw a village on top of a cliff overlooking the sea,
and each tiny house had a nameplate.
The road up was cumbersome a track of thistles,
I thought only the brave gets to dwell where sea
and land meets in harmony, when work has ended
and flowers are but memories of the bygone.
However hard the track is I will reach the top,
my house will face north where winter storm roars
and summers, a waterfall dream in a blue fjord.
I will know I lived well, the better of two worlds and
I shall not ask for more.
Depth of a bruised sea
rising from the surface
overwhelms the dumb shore
shining
for impossible tomorrow
golden sand, the locked door.
History repeats amnesia
for a depressed meniscus
shifts the nameplate.
Here was laid the image of
priestlees god of dusty face
small dreams.
The book remains incomplete
who wrote the contents
for blank pages?
SATISH VERMA
Depth of a bruised sea
rising from the surface
overwhelms the dumb shore
shining
for impossible tomorrow
golden sand, the locked door.
History repeats amnesia
for a depressed meniscus
shifts the nameplate.
Here was laid the image of
priestless god of dusty face
small dreams .
The book remains incomplete
who wrote the contents
for blank pages ?
SATISH VERMA