The One Poems - Poems about The One

One Final Bow

The last curtain came down
one evening at nine
its drapery falling
to signal ‘it’s time’
The theater dark
all stagehands have gone
alone in her presence
my final swan song
The exit door opens
a new crowd appears
applauding me onward
past laughter and tears
With one final bow
but never so sure
eternity clapping
— forever’s encore

(The Bryn Mawr Theater: August, 2025) 

The One Who Stayed

Then she appeared, like morning’s glow,
Through pixel-light our truths would flow.
I swore that love was just a game,
She held my doubts without the shame.

A year we spoke in midnight streams,
Trading hope through fragile dreams.
I gathered courage, soft but true,
“To keep in touch—could that be you?”

Two weeks passed, the silence thin,
Then at 2 a.m., she pulled

One fine summer in Westfield

Birdsong 
And the leaves of grass
Make their own music
As the bubbling rill
Warbles it's way
Lawns hum their busy state 
And butterflies add their flutter

~kcm

One of Those Days

I'm so tired,
don't want to do this anymore.
Please just leave,
and be sure to close the door.
No, I don't want to talk,
I want to be left alone.
Now who the hell is that?
Where's my damn phone?
Just what part of go
don't you understand?
You turn and you leave,
and don't come back again.
I'm sorry, but it's just
been one of those

No One Knows

As I stand here looking in the mirror at the woman looking back at me, it’s there written in her eyes all the secrets that her mind and heart keeps
It’s written all over the lines on her once beautiful face, the toll that the stress has caused over the years from all of her shame,

Like That One Familiar Friend -

Like that one familiar friend -
Hope knows what I'm feeling
Before I've said anything
And gladly walks behind.

She has peace in her eyes
And keeps her lips silent;
Words are irrelevant
But hearing might suffice.

The Intensity of Inner One

Close your eyes and hold breath
Count to ten and leave in air,
I think you can feel rest on tenth
Indeed,it's how you feel layer.

The inner layer of own mind,
In the deep ocean,you suppose
If you dive,you can see many kind
Of fishs and flora,and rise with close nose.

And again dive in it to see,
But I think you feel

no one can rush me

You will have to paint this, you’ll have to clean that
I sit in the sun, soaking it up like a tabby cat
No one can rush me, I’m retired you see
On May 31st, I will be seventy-three.

Assigning one color to one sex

it is strange to me that a color means something
by itself, it elicits memories and experiences
orange is my go-to color, not blue or pink
yet did they dress me in orange when I was a baby?
in the fifties? I rather doubt it.
Actually, most of the photos of me as a baby
show me in a diaper and

just one more

I remember when
age was a candle number ~
now it is ignored
until count down tells on years ~
then you beg for just one more

The Masnavi of Giti and Saeed - Footnotes and Glossary Part one

Literary and Cultural Terms

Masnavi (also Mathnawi): A classical Persian poetic form consisting of rhyming couplets with a continuous narrative. The most famous example is Rumi's Masnavi-ye Ma'navi (Spiritual Couplets), a foundational work of Sufi literature.

Saqi (also Saqi): The cupbearer or wine-server in Persian poetry, often a beautiful youth who serves wine at gatherings. In Sufi

one flew over the cuckoo’s nest

by ego upstaged, soul’s light caged
we wandered earth like a lost ghost
fire of desire in our heart raged
for peace we wandered coast to coast 

synced not to music of the spheres
by ego upstaged, soul’s light caged
we sought solace among our peers
mental battles ceaselessly waged

in the flow of time, body aged
we were but a dead man

World's number one and two in batting's Who's Who

Yorkshire’s blessed treasure chest best take their Test berth as they surf the crest out on the hallowed turf

The self anointed..God’s own country..didn’t rest..hasn’t disappointed..simple ploy

Plucky…lucky to be an envoy that still has the joy..zest of a boy

The honed treacle toned timbre of their timber toy


Well when you’ve researched the top of the queue in

One

A beggar’s shadow
stretches longer than the street 

God steps over it.

that one place

we all have that one place
a creepy feeling
neck hairs stand at attention
we are reluctant to go down there or up there
for some it is a basement, for others, an attic or alley
pay attention to your emotions.
It might save your life

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