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Margo Singaliese Poem
View from the Back Seat
I watch, entranced this time by the lightest blue eyes,
Transfixed by the struggle, the dedication, the pain, the triumph,
The sickness, the determination, the ever constant need to create.
I forget my own quiet moments absorbed in me.
Those moments, inspired, which caused me to create,
Now, I watch.
Accused by all that I am drifting in a sea of someone else;
Warned to hold on to me,
But knowing that the biggest part of me wanted to love
And be loved.
My greatest creation was of a relationship I longed for
For half of my life,
Now living in it for the other half.
Perhaps my words aren’t as witty or as bright or as entertaining,
But my heart and mind have taken the full ride that I wanted.
I guess it’s about balance,
Or about hunger,
But my hunger always existed for people,
There is my greatest art,
My connection to people,
It’s always what has driven me,
So why are they all so surprised by my stance.
In the forefront publicly,
I’ve always been the observer
Of those that I’ve loved.
Watched, but absorbed in watching.
Appreciated, but distracted by appreciating.
Never truly a back-seater, but tired, calm,
Leave the work to others,
Hoping for one more spark of energy,
Of innovation to quiet them, more importantly,
To quiet me…… and then I’ll sit back and
Reconnect, watching, absorbing, appreciating others,
And then the critics will see that this is what will be my
Lasting calling card.
The mirror that kept them strong and at their best,
This makes me memorable to all that I’ve touched.
Watch.
Copyright © Margo Singaliese | Year Posted 2016
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Margo Singaliese Poem
We who watched,
We who survived,
We 300 at the Hoboken triage at 11:00 A.M.
only to meet 3 survivors.
We who lost 8 in our building,
58 in our town,
and thousands across the river.
We who could never imagine such terror so near.
We who were happy that our deceased parents
were not there to see the nightmare
of the reality.
We who watched the empty spaces in shocked grief.
We who still quickly look to the sky as an engine roars.
We who mourn,
We who remember,
We who live in the infinite wisdom that
We will always rise.
Copyright © Margo Singaliese | Year Posted 2016
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Margo Singaliese Poem
Spend the first
snowfall with me.
It would mean so much
to be lulled by your voice,
charmed by your eyes,
locked away from the coldness
with the warmth of you.
Spend the first
snowfall with me.
It would feel like
seeing snow for the first time.
Moved by its beauty
and yours,
Reveling in a moment
when life is art.
Spend the first
snowfall with me, Sweetheart,
Please?
Copyright © Margo Singaliese | Year Posted 2016
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Margo Singaliese Poem
Will it all go?
Decades of sociability,
dancing to Glenn Miller's music,
the funhouse laugh,
You have your mother's smile?
Temporary lapses
Robbing all normal habits
of appropriate conversation,
of money matters,
answering machines,
televisions, and
stoves.
Depression:
Recollection of voids,
but hair in place,
clothes coordinated,
disposition- sweet,
charm intact.
Will it all go?
The charisma,
the humor,
the love?
Middle-aged hands
still grasping
you
to
stay?
Copyright © Margo Singaliese | Year Posted 2016
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Margo Singaliese Poem
It doesn't seem right
that I should be the last
man standing from
a warm circle of
immediate family.
It doesn't seem
fair that you who loved
life so well had to
leave it too soon.
It doesn't seem
believable that I
won't be able to hear your voice in person,
or see your smile,
or touch your hand
ever again.
It doesn't seem
possible to live until
a grand old age
and not think of
all of you daily.
It doesn't seem
real, so I remind
myself that it did
happen, it is true,
and that I've no
choice but to accept
it.
It doesn't seem like
me to visit my original nuclear
clan in a final resting home
asking, "Can you see me?"
"What's it like?" and
"Can you believe I'm talking
to a tombstone?"
It doesn't seem
impossible to go on,
without your unconditional love,
without smiling,
without recalling a fond
memory.
It doesn't
because
of
you.
Copyright © Margo Singaliese | Year Posted 2016
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Margo Singaliese Poem
Whizzing by,
I hold on happily,
still excited by the "nexts".
Great family,
dear friends,
exquisite partner.
I must hold on for 40 more,
retaining the wonder,
chasing away the absence of loved ones
with the beauty of those who stand close by.
Eyes looking forward,
spirit remaining high,
intrigued by the splendor,
I drink in the more of it.
Copyright © Margo Singaliese | Year Posted 2016
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Margo Singaliese Poem
You came first
with your dark saucer eyes
missing nothing.
Your were promised
a gift from Mom and Dad
on my birth.
You took one look at me
and asked,
"Where's my toothbrush?"
It was the last of
your selfishness concerning me.
You were generous with
your clothes,
your money,
your humor,
your support,
your love.
You were my first idol,
my lifelong friend,
laughing at my eccentricities,
eternally protecting me from
anyone who might laugh.
You came first,
but disavowed it in the end.
When I'd tease that you'd
always be older,
You quicklly quipped,
"Not any more."
You left first,
Too soon,
So missed.
Wait for me.
I'll bring a toothbrush.
Copyright © Margo Singaliese | Year Posted 2017
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