POEMS
OF MY CLOSERS (2)
6Of
friends and people I know
Back...
- LIFE
IS BEATIFUL, MY CHILD
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Life is beautiful, my child,
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Though many things go wrong,
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And you may hear much sadness in
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Its strange and lovely song.
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Though friends and loved ones die, my child,
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They're never really gone.
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Nor more nor less than yesterday,
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In you they will live on.
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They will live on in you, my child,
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As everything you see,
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Though it must vanish, will remain
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Alive in memory.
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Alive in what you think and feel
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And dream and say and do,
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For all who ever were still are
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Upon this earth in you.
- Nicholas Gordon
- LOVE
ME IN THE CIRCLE OF YOUR EVENING
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Love me in the circle of your evening,
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And in the morning quiet of your dreams.
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Love me underneath ambitious schemes,
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And when they slow and time can use some seasoning.
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I do not need your highways and your streets
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As long as I can be there when you're home.
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We both have miles of paradise to roam:
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Let me be where your brave heart retreats.
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And I will love you in the times of tears,
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Of hope and laughter, pain and ecstasy,
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And all the days of haunted thoughts, when we
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Can share the undertow of vanished years.
- Nicholas Gordon
- LOSING
A PIECE OF MY SOUL
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I came to you the hour I was in pain
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Looking for answers, I cried to you in vain.
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I shared the many skeletons hiding in my heart,
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I knew then you'd be my friend,
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I knew it from the start.
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Troubles ran like rivers, flowing through my life,
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You picked the pieces up and help me through my strife.
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When home wasn't home to me no more,
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You opened up your heart, and opened up the door.
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We cried into night until the early morn.
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We solaced each other's pain and shared our many thorns.
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As time flew, the air grew thick,
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I saw our friendship fading, and my heart grew sick.
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The day had arrived,
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When it was time to say goodbye.
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Now I sit alone,
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reminiscing the past I'd blown.
- Jasmine Johnston
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Nothing doing.
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The line's always busy
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I'll call you right back
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when I get the
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time - hold on
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one moment please
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take a number
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another busy line?
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off line I'm still
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busy
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bees, beaver, bullshit
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I'm never too busy to
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write a note to
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my friends.
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Do nothing.
- Paul Marking -09/12/1999
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I comb my hair
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again and again,
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look in the mirror
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but only see him.
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My friend, my pal,
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who listened to me,
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who talked with me.
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I still care for him.
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Can't forget it all,
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can't forget him.
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But he went away
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not a care for me.
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I miss him, not only for
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the good times we had,
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but for the ones
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that will never be.
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He was my poem,
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the reason for my writing,
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left me in memory
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kept my joy.
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I must be strong,
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and keep moving on.
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That I can't manage,
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crying I can.
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What's more to say,
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I'm such a kid,
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who needs love,
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and gets only...pity.
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But I still love him,
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and though he left,
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I'll always care.
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Heart handed over to...him.
Translated by Paul Marking
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* I write this poem in Spanish and
Paul translated to English, so I wanted to add it here, dedicated to him,
because I didn't write poems in English on that time and I started writing
after it. It was like my inspiration to write in English.
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In the storm
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Stands the white rose
tumultuous waves
of destruction abound her
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Yet tall is the white rose
strong in the face
Of the sensed doom around her
And she does not bow down
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Pure is the white rose
In the compost earth
growing eternal strength
in the nights that so hurt
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I see not the white rose
She is so far away
But I long to protect her
But only the words can I say
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So I send her my words
And my poets heart
To help her when
there is hope to see her through
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Be Strong little flower
Your heart will guide true
And as long as you want
I will always talk to you
- Walter Poe
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