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Best Poems Written by Andrew Culjak

Below are the all-time best Andrew Culjak poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

Details | Andrew Culjak Poem

Wonder Why

She's feeling like Atlas
The burden upon her,
And all she can do is Wonder Why.

He Stares out the Window
Regrets but says nothing, 
And all he can do is Wonder Why.

Living through memories
Like clothes out of fashion.
Forgotten we hold our dreams
For inspection.
Then drop them embarrassed
Too long we have waited
Till they have just faded,
Till We have just faded,
All We can do is Wonder Why.

Details | Andrew Culjak Poem

Son of the Sea

He listened to the Sea as She sang Her song, 
It was blue and deep and would last lifelong 
In his blood Her hold of the Son was strong 
Who forever is free as He sings with the Sea and passes Her song 
Along.

So He'd sing to Us his song of She and each time He sang something different He'd leave

To One he gave strength another compassion, one duty, or joy, he'd give in this fashion

To all that He sang He gave just what We'd need.  
Above all in His song it was love We would feel.

I listened to the Sea when He sang Her song, 
He gave Her to me and will last lifelong 
In my blood the song which He sang is strong, 
To His memory I'll sing
And We'll pass it along.

Details | Andrew Culjak Poem

A Christmas Pageant Past

It wasn't a memory as such but a story, 
Recounted time and again by parents loving and proud.
Young men are too occupied chasing visions and fleeing demons 
To remember.
Middle age concerns lean towards practicality, keeping or escaping it.
If there was a memory, it had surely been mistreated and lost.
Now the Old man had only the words of parents,
Who were not much more than children when he was a boy, 
When he was five.

Those were times of solidness.
The world seemed bigger, thicker, and heavier, conspiring to 
Safety through simplicity.
The snow more a stuffed, quilted blanket than the sheet of icy crystals 
He now sees.
Christmas lights like huge, shining beetles gorged and bursting with color,
Metamorphosed over decades into fragile gnats twinkling and blinking,
Toys of Iron, Steel, and Wood thickly painted, 
Outliving childhood and its memory.
This is what the old man could recall.

Yet each Christmas the old man would renew himself to 
His parent's words. 
Recounting again and again until the child he'd been felt at home.
Sometimes the story was sad, sometimes happy, and sometimes funny,
But always it ended with the hope and magic of the season, 
Inside a parent's love.
Each year, when the story became less his parent's, 
More his own, 
He'd sit with the children of his family's families and he would begin,
 ?I remember when I was a boy, just about the age you are 
Now.

Details | Andrew Culjak Poem

It Never Really Happens

THE TELEPHONE RINGS BUT I WON'T ANSWER
THERE'S TOO MANY THINGS I DO NOT RECALL
KEEP SEEING YOUR FACE INSIDE THE RAIN THAT SPLASHES ON MY WINDOW
I DROVE ALL NIGHT TO WATCH THE STARLIGHT FLICKERING ON THE ROAD

WE SAID SO MANY THINGS THAT HAD NO MEANING
WE GAVE OURSELVES WITH NOTHING TO GIVE AT ALL
IN TORTURED ECSTASY WE DANCED FOR RITUALISTIC REASONS
WE WAITED IN SECRET SILENCE PUSHING BOTH OF US TO FALL

I THOUGHT I KNEW YOU KNEW ME, BUT IT NEVER REALLY HAPPENS

AN OPEN DOOR THAT LEADS INTO THE DARKNESS
HE STARES INTO A VOID THAT'S HELD HIM CLOSE
BEEN BROKEN SO MANY TIMES FROM DEMONS WRAPPING THEIR ARMS AROUND HIM
HE TURNS AWAY FROM WATCHFUL EYES HIS HUNGER SEEMS TO GROW

BEEN WAITING INSIDE HIS PAIN THAT'S LIKE A FORTRESS
FOR SOMEONE TO BREAK THE WALLS AND SET HIM FREE
THE TINIEST OF GESTURES CAN REDEEM A FALLEN ANGEL
HE REACHES OUT TO ONE WHO PASSES MUCH TO BLIND TO SEE

I THOUGHT I KNEW HIS HUMANITY, BUT IT NEVER REALLY HAPPENS

A FIRE BLAZES RAGING THROUGH ALL REASON
OPINIONS AND BELIEFS HELD ONE THE SAME
HE GIVES INTO HIS SELFISH INDIGNATION AND FEELS RIGHTEOUS
A SMILE PLAYS OUT UPON HIS LIPS AS HE TAKES CAREFUL AIM

THE FACES CHANGE THE CAUSE WITH EVERY SEASON
AND HISTORY IS EASILY IGNORED
SURVIVAL, GOD, OR DEVIL MAYBE POLITICS THAT MOVES US
IT ALL REMAINS A HATRED THAT'S INSPIRED US TO MORE.

I THOUGHT I KNEW THE WAY THE WORLD SHOULD BE, BUT IT NEVER REALLY HAPPENS.

Details | Andrew Culjak Poem

Corona

(To the tune of Ghostbusters)
Is there something strange
Deep inside your lungs
Whatcha gonna do
Corona

Will you quarantine
Go out and have some fun
Watcha gonna do
Corona

I ain't fraid of no bug
I ain't fraid of no cold
I ain't fraid of no flu
Corona

Will you wash your hands
Do as you've been told
Watcha gonna do
Corona

Toilet paper is 
Worth its weight in gold
Watcha gonna do
Corona

I ain't fraid of no bug
I ain't fraid of no cold
I ain't fraid of no flu
Corona

If a fever hits 
Six feet out of reach
Watcha gonna do
Corona

Shelter in your place
Will you hit the beach
Watcha gonna do
Corona

I aint fraid of no bug
I ain't fraid of no cold
I ain't fraid of no flu
Corona

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Old Man On the Front Porch Swing

The dew lays thick on the October Morning, 
The last for the advent of frost.
With my blanket I sit on the front porch swing,
And wait for the paper to come.

Leaves, weathered and brown are the spring buds now
Which cover the lawn like old skin.
A red squirrel watching from an old oak tree,
Watching me as I'm watching him.

Then down on the drive comes the gravelly crunch
From under the young boy's feet,
Up the old oak the squirrel suddenly jumps,
The two of them never will meet.

He raises his hand, waves at the old man,
I join my slow wave with a smile.
It's this old man's house; he saves last on his route
Where he stays to talk for a while.

Climbing he savors each wooden porch stair
Which greet him with creaking and moans.
While the dew softly whispers a mist in the air,
The morning sun kisses it gold.

Behind the screen door I disappear for
A moment, he's keeping his peace
To search for a way, the right words to say -
No more he'll be visiting me.

A silent farewell from inside the screen door,
A deep breath before I return.
"She's the best of the litter and she's yours",
Then I hand him a bundle of fur.

I already know what he says is so,
Tomorrow his family is leaving.
As he walks down the drive without saying goodbye,
I watch from the front porch swing.

The snow lays thin on this November Morning,
There'll be more before winter's done.
Wrapped warm as I sit on my front porch swing
And wait for the paper to come.

Details | Andrew Culjak Poem

Fast Eddie and Cherry Girl

HIS THUMB HELD OUT ON THE MIDDLE OF AN EMPTY ROAD
HE CAN'T STOP SWEATIN, THE SUN BEATS DOWN
HE TAKES TO HIS HEALS WITHOUT LOOKIN AROUND
HE LIGHTS A CIGARETTE CAUSE IT SEEMS HE'S GOT NOWHERE TO GO

HE'S WALKED A COUPLE OF MILES WHEN SHE'S PASSIN HIM BY
TIRES SQUEAL IN A CLOUD OF DUST, 
SHE REVS HER ENGINES AS HE CATCHES UP
HE SAYS I'M FAST EDDIE AND I THINK I'M YOU'RE TYPE OF GUY

SO THEY DRIVE ALL NIGHT ON A BOTTLE OF RUM
AND HIT THE WHISKEY WHEN THE MORNING COMES
THEY PULL OVER FOR A LITTLE HUMPTY BUMP
TILL NOTHING MATTERS BUT THE MOMENT AND THE HEAT OF THE SUN
FAST EDDIE AND CHERRY GIRL

BREEZIN THROUGH RAMSHACKLE TOWNS IT'S LIKE AN ENDLESS SEA
THEY CAN'T STOP RUNNIN, THEY CAN'T SLOW DOWN
THEY GOTTA KEEP MOVIN TILL THEY'RE OUT OF TOWN
THEY DON'T  WANT A LIFE OF OTHER PEOPLES DAMN DECENCY

THEY PULL UP TO A BROKEN DOWN HUT SHE SAYS YOU WAIT RIGHT HERE
FROM THE GLOVE COMPARTMENT, SHE PULLS A GUN
AND SAYS TO EDDIE, LET THE ENGINE RUN
HOW THIS THING IS GOIN DOWN I REALLY HAVE NO IDEA

SHE WALKS UP TO THE PLACE AND KICKS IN THE FRONT DOOR
SHE FIRES A SHOT AND FIRES TWO TIMES MORE
SHE JUMPS INTO THE CAR AND SAYS I'VE EVENED THE SCORE
THERE'S NO TIME TO SIT HERE WHAT YOU WAITING FOR
FAST EDDIE AND CHERRY GIRL 

THEY CHECK INTO A FLEABAG MOTEL AND SETTLE FOR THE NIGHT
HE DOESN'T BOTHER HE DOESN'T ASK
ABOUT WHAT'S HAPPENED ABOUT HER PAST
SHE ROLLS OVER SMILES SADLY, CLUTCHES HIM, AND SOFTLY CRIES

THE NEXT MORNING FINDS HIM WAKING IN AN EMPTY BED
A SCRIBBLED NOTE, SOME CRUMPLED BILLS
HE GRABS A SHOWER AND WAITS UNTIL
THE WATER GETS SCALDING HOT AND TURNS HIS SKIN A BLISTERED RED

HE HITS A COUPLE HONKY TONKS A MILE FROM TOWN 
AND POURS ONE TWO THREE WHISKEY?S DOWN
HE MIXES IT UP WITH SOME REDNECK CLOWNS
EVEN THOUGH HE KNOWS HE'S GONNA END FACE DOWN
FAST EDDIE AND CHERRY GIRL

Details | Andrew Culjak Poem

My Father's Eyes

You know that I love you.  It's nothing you've done.
He said as we stood in the aisle of some store, 
I am the only one, 
I have to take care of.  It has to be me
That I'm thinking of and I'm looking out for,
That's why I have to be free.
As I tried to smile I said, I understand and it's all right.
I just couldn't look into my father's eyes.

I might be dying, he said on the phone.
Over thousands of miles and too many years
Twenty had come and gone.
That's why I called you.  He said, I know.
Though we haven't spoken I lived with this fear
That you would forget or perhaps just let go.
So I'm glad I called, he said I understand and it's all right
Relieved I couldn't look into my father's eyes.

Then I held my face
In the mirror the rest of the night
Finally I looked into 
My father's eyes

Details | Andrew Culjak Poem

She Dances Alone

She dances alone on New Year's Eve.
I watch her as I wait for skyrockets to burst
Against the starry sky in colorful obliteration,
While my breath hangs in frosty plumes for midnight.

Framed in a picture window she dances,
With forgotten drapes left open to me.
Around her the powder blue nightgown whirls,
Eyes closed, arms raised in supplication

She gains a momentary sense of youth
As in silence she seems to laugh.
Infected, her joyous moment fills me,
I'm swept along as this snapshot transforms, unfurls,

From two people solitary, untouched, 
Into a lifeline transcending the truth
For a future when reflections of the past
Shine upon the present with a glow of harmony.

While my breath hangs in frosty plumes for midnight
She falls from her façade, reclaims my crutch and
With a smile sad, fading like her momentary youth,
She turns out the lights, and leaves me alone to dance
Alone.

Details | Andrew Culjak Poem

Discussions In My Head

I have discussions in my head
With family, friends not here but dead.
Coworkers or acquaintances
Who said they were but weren't instead.

Not dead and buried, not burned to ash.
It's just that part of life has passed;
Of evening talks through nights that last
Till dawn when gone is our repast.

Not that those true nor I don't care,
But life removed our time to spare
For conversations laying bare
Our hunger for those thoughts to share.

Brief connections on the phone
Of day to day a fragile hold
On inspiration we've been sold
To leave that child out in the cold.

Debates, and Arguments, grand designs
A memory swallowed up by time,
Replaced by fear of a great divide
Too far to bridge and so we hide.  

By clicking thumbs up, comments, likes
Our love no longer erudite
We keep our truths in dark of night
Except when lashing out in spite

My friends and family are not dead
The bonds are simply less intense.
So I sit not in diffidence,
And have discussions in my head.