I’m caught between lights and shadows
By a demon that has settled in my mind
And locked me in a somber prison
While my heart and body were entwined.
In the sad and gray sanatorium of my life,
I am your patient and you my loving doctor,
With whom I share my dreams of heaven,
And tales that nobody else will ever know.
My love, may your eyes no longer weep
When evening falls and you drift to sleep.
From this day forth, I’ve shed all my fears,
As I return to you from my heavy dreams.
I would like you to take me in your arms
As you haven't done in a long time.
This might set you free from sadness,
For from now I am totally healed.
I ask for your forgiveness, my love,
For the nights when I left you in tears,
It was just a fleeting moment in my life
When I lost the way to your heart.
Spring Morning
today, waking up, it was warmer, the winter
had been cold at times, freezing electric heating
is not for those with a slim wallet
Today, we will write pleasant poetry
not like the boy at the edge of his bed, his feet
not long enough to reach the floor, crying
for yet again losing his home because his mother
has tuberculosis, has to go to a sanatorium
his has to go living among strangers, he has to
be nice to and not be boisterous
Yes, pleasant thoughts, not letting bitterness seep
into this day with its mild breeze and clear light
thinking of the dog he had walking in the woods
Heck, the dog died, that was sad, so let us think
of something else, buying red wine and cheese
Getting pissed and playing music too loudly is not funny
when you are the only one in the room
Two things on offer to gladding the day go for
a walk or sit on the terrace soaking up the sunlight
tell jokes about my life at sea, forgetting long
nights, somewhere on the Pacific Ocean
So, let us embrace old grudges and enjoy life
of not laughing, we know a giggle is short-lived
A day spring day 1952
It was a day in April, the boy sat by the milk ramp waited for the man, who drove from farm-to-farm, collecting milk for the Dairy in local town There was only one type of milk he knew of it was full fat and tasted smooth and creamy He, became aware of how beautiful the landscape like seeing the nature for the first time and as it tuned out it was also for the last time, his mother was back from the sanatorium He had to go to her he got a job delivering gods on his bike and never returned to the farm, but the beauty of that day has stayed with as a time of glory when the world was unspoiled
Rendezvous
The youngish woman sitting near the window
in the train, looks pale and too slim
Stroking her throat, I think she has tuberculosis
on her way to the sanatorium
"The Camelia dame"?
Her lover will sit beside her as she coughs blood
into a silk handkerchief and whisper words of love
As the train slows down, she looks into her hand
mirror, apply lipstick and rouge, and pick up her bag
She looks beautiful
The woman cast me a look, I nodded my head in
approval, every journey begins with a dream
To lost friends
I have opened the window and inhale the summer
Some of the cottages I see, made of stone and lime are empty, their owners have gone home to their birthplace, where they died waiting for surgery, elderly they died of heart problems and of the dreaded cancer.
Empty houses are a sad sight, bought by those dreaming
of a peaceful retirement, spending time repairing their
homes and drinking red wine at sunset
When illness struck and old age beckoned, they went back where their heart belonged, the pub and the betting shop
what do I know, my home is where I live at the time,
but I do remember a childhood of poverty and need
and child labor.
I'm no longer sure if my youth was a dream or something I have read in books, I sometimes think I have spent too much time reading, or I didn't care about the past of sorrow.
I was in love once, but when rejected I nearly jumped
into the waterfall, but the water was too cold which
tells me my intention was not that profound
Year when abused by an orphanage while waiting for
my mother to come home from the sanatorium
I dreamily think of snow falling gently to go for a walk on overgrown tracks
God dwells in the sanctum sanatorium of my heart,
Even at death of mortal body he does not depart;
Ignorance is not the obstacle that blocks him from me,
Reluctance to see him stops me in his presence to be..!
I know this truth; understand it; and do internalize;
Thirst - unquenchable - for him in me, yet, does not arise;
Human beings, many, search him endlessly, but can't find,
Though known hundred of concepts on him, I'm willingly blind...
Scriptures try to open my eyes; saints and sages show paths.
I am not seeker; will I think of death or aftermath?
This world and things in it are enough; This thought fills my mind,
Even if God comes before me, will I his presence find...?
Desire for him should burn in me like the blazing fire,
Urge to be with him, like child with father, should grow higher;
A heart of flesh not of stone, I must joyously adorn,
With an endless love to live in him, I must be reborn...!
26 August 2022
Where is God hiding Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Unseeking Seeker
We faeries were a twitter for our houses were under attack in the crags.
Giant hunters had been capturing them, shoving them into bags.
Heard scared faeries screaming for help as they were carted off sore.
Mushrooms, toadstools, morels and truffles were not safe anymore.
Latest house taken was house of Faerie McFriggle Feister Forlorning.
Frankly we did not know the old bat was gone until six in the morning.
What do they do with our faerie dwellings? We asked each other.
Let us not think about it, cautioned Rip, my honorary faerie brother.
At noon Faerie McFriggle Feister Forlorning returned hot and mad.
They are cannibals! She said. We surrounded her, feeling glad.
Fried up my kitchen in a giant skillet, my living room and bedroom too.
Then they gobbled it all up, those giants, and I am not lying to you!
They ate your HOUSE! We faeries could not believe this story bold.
Some snickered behind her back for she is certainly senile and old.
I saw one cram my entire legacy into his giant ugly gulping mouth!
We committed her to a sanatorium past the meadow to the south.
Menage et Trois
On the farm, I was sent to when my mother was at home for tuberculosis,
I was quite happy, the people on the farm consisted of a middle-aged couple
The sister of the wife and two mentally deficient women did the work
The farm got payment from the state keeping them; they didn´t liven the house,
but in the barn sleeping on straw mattresses. At the time I saw nothing wrong
in this but they were cruelly exploited doing all the dirty work which farms produce.
As usual, I walked around in my own world milked five cows In the morning and
fed the beasts, the cleaning I left for the two idiots to do.
In the house the two sisters argued a lot, the farmers sometimes slept in one bedroom,
his wife’s sister and at times with his wife.
It appears I saw a manage et Trois were one part was an unwilling participant,
which only stopped when the unmarried sister moved out.
When my mother was coming home from the sanatorium, I told her and there
was much laughter in the family.
thermometer cold to the touch
absent of heat, patron
walks behind the taker
mirror image, the wall
the floors,
nothing at all
teeth chatter at base of my neck,
“You see nothing but death!”
goosebumps of fear,
I say nothing,
nothing at all
laughter forests my space
i dare not look
scared, confused
ice steam escapes
hungry lips
i hear the click of polished heels
upon the deck
drifting away
i want to warn the crew
but i can’t move
transfixed
ears alight with
the flight of frenetic wings
and screams
i need to run
but it’s over
a cape draped across
my shoulders
“Ah, you’ve waited…”
turns me around
eyes bold
red lips
long black hair
“I’ll let you live.
Will you dare
to tell…”
As if it never happened,
nothing at all
the vampire vanishes
but his eyes light
the window at night
to taunt
when they ask me what i know
my answer is
nothing at all
the sanatorium dressed for Halloween
pumpkins blink, flare
i see eyes everywhere
11/19/2020
True story ;)
Memories and a farm
My mother had tuberculosis and sent to a sanatorium
I ended up in a home run by the local town and financed
by people who meant well
I made life difficult for the staff, and a tiny boy went on strike
they sent me to a farm, back then farmers were paid
by the community taking children from poor homes.
For me it was a beautiful place, the farmer and his wife were
a middle-aged couple and the demanded little of me except
getting up early milking the cows, they had five.
I have always liked animals and domestic animals
they had no reason to fear me.
The school was an hour walk away if I crossed the fields
it got shorter when I got a bike.
Years went by. My mother was coming back, although
she had only a small flat, and I had to sleep on the floor
I loved her and left the idyllic farm to memories.
Searching somewhere beyond sight,
For miens and visages propelling into quotidian lives,
With smiles,blues and not so much to cry,
Swept away every scratch of soul,
This wave not seen, not felt, not known.
Sanatorium thronged disquiet,
Medics and Paramedics taxing
Efforts reclaiming lives,
Risking theirs in face of time
Pining on hope to seize it fine.
Sun dawns again with no reminder of light,
But to know somewhere someone would never rise,
In this gloomy game of toll rise.
This Banshee built invisible walls
In these ghost towns no one in and barely out,
But far reaching to the cruise stranded out
Haunting world all around.
Eyes of dilemma filled with fright
If it would be I or the sight of slaying mankind,
Diminutive demon crept in will go away with time,
Not about duration but loss left behind,
With things unfolding beyond sight.
Laughing at every mile
In the face of civilization,
Pandemic touching horizon,
Questioning era of human immortalization
Reminding so little is known and so much to learn,
Devising tactics not only for wars alone
Nevertheless for dormant rampant foes,
Though shaped like a crown but not the crown of our lives.
Sylvan surroundings of a Sanatorium
With cold wind biting the boulevard...
In pallid rays of winter sun, I recuperated.
"Hey, I am your new nurse"...
A light blue scarf came in a tint of white.
Wow!, Wasn't she my Carolina?..
Lost ten years ago in the valley of time and distance..
I knew the honey-sweet voice.
But she never knew I loved her so much.
She chafed my feet in her anodyne touch.
Memories warmed my cold winter night.
'You'll have a hot cup of cider, alright?..
Red apples bubbled in simmering condiments.
Cinnamon, nutmegs and Cloves.
As I sipped Cider with Carolina, my sugar level arose.
A red fire was burning the frost of winter.
A crisp tangy smell of my pureed semi-tart love.
The maple syrup with a sugary crust...
My sweetheart says," Show me where it hurts".
Dated 25th November, 2018
Submitted to the Cool Writes and Imagination Contest
Placed 10th
Sponsor Kim Rodrigues
Also placed First in Brian Strand ' s contest
The Inn
Many years ago an uncle of mine
told a story what happened at a small hotel
near the sanatorium, the guest had been visiting loved ones.
The evening meal consisted of meat cakes in gravy with
stewed cabbage an boiled potatoes, Norway is not
famed for French cuisine, but they ate well.
In the end, there was only one meat cake left
and the landlady urged the guests to eat all,
no one wanted to so she switched off the light.
For a moment a stunned silence, then a high pitched
scream alarmed she switched on the light
a man sat there with five forks stuck in his hands.
On reflection, the story has a tinge of sadism,
and I cannot vouchsafe if the story is true.
Another Brick in the Wall
I went to St Peters School in Cambridge
The first time I ever heard Pink Floyd
Was at my friends house during lunch break
His name was Brendan
And was kicked out of school for being disruptive
Because he used to continually question teachers
He was a member of Mensa and had an IQ of 127 at age 16
During lunch break we used to go to his house and hangout
The only possession he had was a record player
And a set of Pink Floyd records
We were so obsessed with them
We even went to see Syd Barret who was institutionalizes
In a sanatorium in Cambridge
We loved the album the Wall
And one thing I learnt later was that
Roger Waters Mum was a teacher
Which when you hear the lyrics
Hey teacher leave those kids alone
Made me realize
Never judge a book by its cover
Don't just take words on face value
Look to understand the context
All in all we are all just another brick in the wall
If we simply listen to a wall
And never wonder how it was built
The heart off sanatorium
Broke a little in a winter time
cause it went alone
and this is how that ends
fixed with cement
too late for a plaster cast
now weighing a bit more
and colder too
but
matter of practice
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