Unoccupied Poems

Let Me Be Wild Forever

If still loving you with all my heart
makes me crazy,

then let me lose my mind—

blowing kisses to the empty air,
talking to an unoccupied car seat,
whispering goodnight
to a picture frame.

Holding your urn tightly,
feeling my heart beating
in sync with yours.

If still loving you with all my heart
makes me crazy,

then let me be the wild one—

still wearing your ring,
laughing at your jokes
only I can understand,
weaving our memories
into every corner
of this hollowed world.

If still loving you with all my heart
makes me crazy,

then let me stay mad—

a woman who refuses
to amputate her own heart,

a woman who loves
like death forgot
to close the door.

Let me dance with your spirit
beneath the invisible stars—

spinning inside the love we built,
the love not even death
can unravel.

If still loving you with all my heart
makes me crazy,

then I will be wild forever—

gloriously,
tenderly,
fiercely yours,

until the stars themselves
forget how to burn.

EMPTY NEST

With her youngest child now in college…beginning her own life quest…
Ali, our daughter…(as Deborah and I and so many parents before)
is left with an empty nest.

We spend years keeping our children close 
giving them someone whom they can rely on
and then one day we look around 
and just like that…
they’re gone.

And we’re faced with the paradox of parenting…
that pulls at our heartstrings:
How we’ve nurtured our children’s roots…
while helping to develop their wings.

Hoping those roots of love we’ve nurtured…
and helped to beautify…
will keep us all connected…no matter where they fly.

And though there’s a twinge of sadness as our children soar…
we also feel blessed
knowing those wings we helped create 
will bring them back into our nest.

I hope Ali…when she looks at their unoccupied rooms 
beyond her tears will also find a smile
knowing her nest will never completely empty…
just vacant for a while.

Out On The Porch

Picture # 1

Out on the front porch
Sits the unoccupied rocking chair
Soaking up the rising sun
Sounds surround as day begins
Come friend, sit, settle, scribe

The Word of the day: A-I

I thought it'd be a blessing 
to reminisce
knowing I, the conveyer
A-I took over
as I spoke what ought
A-I did naught
it typed out its choice
none was my voice
as I watched the monitor
do its my detour
of every word that I had said
went in the water--dead
every thought of blessing 
became depressing
my time out to reminisce
turned out to be a mess
and so I thought I'd enough
and just press it off
an unoccupied room a computer sits idle
in front of it sits an opened bible
A-I has nothing to offer
without The Author

Chug-Chug-Chugging

A little Coast Guard boat just now
Went chug-chug-chugging by.
It left behind a wake, above which
Seagulls like to fly.

Aside from that, the river’s calm
With not a tug in sight,
Although a ferry might come soon,
Their schedule kept tight.

It’s chilly so the benches are
Unoccupied as well, 
But since the sun is shining,
I’ve been captured by its spell.

I’m happy to be out here
As I sit and write this poem,
Knowing when I’m cold or hungry,
In five minutes I’ll be home.

Kyrie Eleison

In the alley of darkness 
There, my morality lurks with uncertainty 
My heart gilded in a wrapper of sin
Like an offering to the lord of darkness

Battered and shaken by sin
I am weighed down by the cross of my sins
My body is weak to unchain itself 
I am tired and lost

My heart and mind are far away from pure
The moment I turn to the light I am shoved back to darkness for my will is weak
So weak the devil plays with me 

My spirit is empty and unoccupied 
Darkness is over the face of my soul’s abyss
Let your Spirit hover over my soul
And bring light into this abyss.

In the upper room with my faith and prayer
Singing songs and saying words out of my depth
I want to be lost in your aura 
For in you is tranquility and grace.
Just like the risen Lord 
Let me defeat death 
And my soul shall rise!

The House

The house is still and quiet
 nothin moves or stirs
  but for the occupant and little dog within;
a sip if coffee, dark roasted and hot
 together,  we enjoy and observe life
  with the yard on display thru the sliding door,
early February clings to winter
 icy cold and frozen stiff
 rain, snow mix, sleet falling hard on the earth;
the furnace hums spewing heat
 warming the cold of a long mid-winter
 keeping the pipes from a freeze over;
not a sound other than ticking of the clock
 no creeks or cracklings of life
  an abandonment of time and space,
alone in the silence of the morning
 unoccupied dreams and memories revive, 
  closed windows and doors keep us safe and warm
here, wihin the house.

America At Her Best

There is plenty of room for living here on earth
47 percent of the USA is unoccupied, for what it’s worth
And, if that statistic astounds,
In other countries, more space abounds
Over 80 percent of Canada is not being used
While people in crowded parts of the world are abused
Might not some shuffling be in order …
An acre of land for those knocking at our border
And, if they cultivate it and make it thrive (i.e. Israel)
Give them another two, three, four, or five
To help alleviate the food shortages, we currently know
America is at her best when we are helping her grow!

written November 1, 2021

The Morning After the Storm

On the morning after, from a stormy rainy night 
I sit on my stoop watching the sun grow bright
 
Stillness and silence deaf my ear 
Silenced sounds are everywhere
 
Chicks peek from a hole in the tree 
On a cable, the chicks parents watch; quietly
 
Not even the leaf's on the tree sway 
Silence deadens the noise away
 
The hare in the grass- not once, did he hop 
The dewdrops on the roses- can't even drop

A puddle rests motionless atop' my table 
Mirroring the shadows of the birds on the cable
 
Porch'd- a rocking chair sits still and unoccupied 
I'm happy the old man- has not yet died
 
He stares from his window all comfy and warm
Smiling, the morning after the rainy nights storm

Wren Returns

She slips in
 beneath the well-protected opening
 of an unoccupied birdhouse,
painted with yellow sunflowers
 and an unseen dark circled hole;
the place just the right size
 where her mate staged twigs 
 and leaves for a nesting place,
hollowed out along the hemlock trunk
 wrapped an entwined by honeysuckle vines;
this was the place
 she recalled it well
 so near to where she fledged;
now a comfy hideaway
 for her to lay her eggs
here, she would sing again
 tweet out her symphony
 raise her young
and bask happily,
 within the bounty of the garden stage.

About Face

About Face
David J Walker

It is about face 
About time and place
And direction 
And unoccupied space 
In East or West that 
We face

And the unknowing of 
which is  forward or 
backward or north 
or south

the illusion of which is
up and which is down

bound by the gravity of
anticipation in

each new moon and season
Named for the gods lost
To antiquity

Let the Clocks Chime

Let the Clocks Chime
David J Walker

Time comes for all orphans to
Take their place away from the
Now empty houses of the them
(as we were)  when 
The streets were familiar playgrounds 

Streets in the same place in a different day
In a far-away unoccupied space
On the road to forever
That has subtly  rearranged the names and 
Addresses of time and eternity

Where unknown but familiar faces of 
Tomorrow's children stake their claim 
To discovery

Let the clocks chime marking the 
Away we have come

Abandoned In Synonyms

once impulsive        now

deserted   forsaken
                  cast aside
jilted
stranded
              rejected
dumped
ditched
                 unused

neglected
             idle
                unoccupied
uninhabited

I stand empty

      words fail me

Catastrophic Failure

I know how scared some folks feel, I share their fear:
they're out of work and running short of money.
And it takes all their strength to hold back a tear:
when only last month, their futures looked sunny.

And then the coronavirus arrived here,
and people died; it's no joke; it's not funny.
I've been self-quarantined for four weeks at home,
frightened by the coronavirus syndrome.

Our once-bustling city looks unoccupied;
shadows scurrying about at their peril.
Rejecting the stringent rules that were applied:
some still won't wash their hands to keep them sterile.

But, to safely restart the economy,
we need to regulate some autonomy.
Yet this catastrophic failure of healthcare
begs the question: was big business not aware?

No Vacancy

When I was down and had no love 
there was a sign on my heart's door 
it simply read, "unoccupied" 
but it's not hanging there anymore. 
The reason is that I found someone 
who gave true love to me 
she then placed a new sign on my heart 
which reads, "no vacancy." 
Well since then others have tried to come in 
but I politely turn them away 
because my new love is the queen of my heart 
and she says that shes here to stay. 
Since she has entered into my life 
things have not been the same 
and under her sign, "no vacancy" 
she has boldly etched her name. 
She has put a new bounce into my step 
she has put a sparkle into my eye 
thus I prevent all others from coming in 
no matter how hard they try. 
My sweetheart gives me all that I need 
she is everything that I ever wished for 
so do not come knocking if you can read 
for there's a sign on my heart's door. 
Please make sure you see this sign 
before you come flirting with me 
it was firmly put there by the true love of mine 
and it reads, "no vacancy." 
by Benjamin Macieo Davis 
ThePrinceofPoetry

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