Details |
Donn Goodside Poem
He was young, small, perhaps malnourished
Looking out from deep set eyes, rimmed with neglect
I could see, he wanted ...
To know why?
To know what? ... I did not know.
I sensed he was trying to form the words
And the questions in his mind
The words did not form on his unwashed face
He just stared.
I wanted to say: I understood
That I remembered, what it was like to be small
Surrounded by huge ‘Grown-ups
Pushed by bullies stronger than me,
always in groups of three and whispered at
by clean starched girls with bright blue eyes
Laughed at or even worse, pitied.
Years later, I saw him again
Now he was taller and tougher looking
His jeans and jacket still reeked of poverty
His eyes deeper set yet, acne skin
and oily pits around his nose.
He didn’t have that same searching stance
Now I could see he no longer cared
Now he was ready to fight
His fingers yellowed by cigarette smoke
His fingernails filled with dirt and grease
As was the collar of his shirt.
Shoelaces broken and then re-tied
with a knot covering the shoes tongue
His own tongue tucked behind thin lips
and decaying teeth.
Many years have since passed
as I happened to see his reflection
In the passing of a store front glass
Except, now I see,
He was and has always been, me.
Copyright © Donn Goodside | Year Posted 2014
|
Details |
Donn Goodside Poem
On the Wall
a soldier's lament
Amid the dark of night when drunks
Cease their raucous noise
Murky dews come once again
Upon the wall of stone
Standing in doorways shadow
Hearing Earth in its turning
and aging timbers in their moan
I sense the rose petal hue of dawn
Peek its eye on the edge of a mourning sky
I will to survive another night so that my bones
Might embrace again the warm before I die
The watching having been worth the while
My tour of duty over, I could then go home.
Author notes:
('They also serve, who stand and wait'.)
John Milton
Copyright © Donn Goodside | Year Posted 2014
|
Details |
Donn Goodside Poem
Knowing why, doesn't make the search go away
Knowing how, doesn't mean you can stop
There are alternative ways, different days
No one gets to stay forever
There are traps
There are walls
People trip and people fall
and some never get up and walk again
The world continues to change
Nothing stays the same
Tomorrow is not always better
Bad things happen to good people
Good things happen to bad
and no one knows, why the wind blows
The water rises and why everything must die
Wishing will not make the pain of life go away
Life is, what it is.
Copyright © Donn Goodside | Year Posted 2014
|
Details |
Donn Goodside Poem
Every day I am born anew
Through the mud and sludge
Of decadent dreams
And some vague remembrance
That I'm connected to my past
I stare at a mirrored reflection
I do not recognize
My cold pinching shoes feel too far away to tie
As I try to remember where I'm going and why
I try to capture that which is lost
The world that was meant for me
Is not the world in which I live
My face feels the sting of one hand clapping
My eyes focus on the world outside of my self
The colors change from ‘Dali-esque vibrancy
To being all sooty and smelling of sweat
Ahhh, ... it must be Monday and time to go back to work.
Copyright © Donn Goodside | Year Posted 2014
|
Details |
Donn Goodside Poem
Soon the falling will begin
Sunlight will weave in and out of leaves of trees
Changing the once dull and dusty green
Into complex tapestries
Closer to the ground
The grasses are cool and mute
Death will again dance to the tune
Of a seasons changing door
It seems I have heard this melody before.
Copyright © Donn Goodside | Year Posted 2014
|