Don't let me be too late
iaian7 » blog » poetry John Einselen, 13.01.09You were standing in the market,
when your old life came a-calling,
a debt you couldn’t pay,
and yourself for the selling
Do not let me be,
too late by your side,
running past the shoes,
you hastily cast aside.
Stuttering on the cobblestones,
stumbling through the naked streets,
mind entangled like your legs,
frantic thoughts in feverish heats.
Do not let me be,
too late by your side,
slipping on the blood,
as stone and feet collide.
And there along a cliff I see,
your soul all worn, and deathly wet.
the wind drops silent, like the birds,
as time falters, broken, unset.
Do not let me be,
too late by your side,
to hold and caress,
and hope that you see…
I take no account,
of a long, sordid past,
when I call in the street,
to a far humbler caste.
You were standing in the market,
when you heard someone calling,
an account you couldn’t settle,
and the awful darkness swelling.
(and so you ran)
Do not let me be,
too late by your side,
to hold and caress,
and hope to provide…
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A Grandfather's Dirge
iaian7 » blog » poetry John Einselen, 13.09.08Hello my weeping daughter,
hello my bright eyed son…
Fear not for I am travelling,
to see beyond the sun.
Long have I walked these pastures,
to work and weathered hands…
And now to go before you,
to tread the golden lands.
(to be continued)
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I miss...
iaian7 » blog » poetry John Einselen, 3.11.07I miss not holding your hand,
as the trees change colour and the wind chills the bone…
I miss being huddled together in the park,
an afternoon walk cut short by quiet whispers in lovers code…
I miss never having tea with you,
sitting cross legged on a porch and sipping something sweet.
And the artifice is gone, and nothing is all that’s left…
I miss not having gone to church with you,
and an afternoon nap where we didn’t have to say a word…
I miss seeing your sleeping form,
as I stay up late polishing a project and smiling to myself…
I miss never knowing the closeness,
that you and I have needed so much…
And being alone now makes it clear, that being surrounded isn’t the same, as being near you…
I miss listening to music,
and dancing to a song that makes me want to cry…
I miss the things we might have done,
the places we could have gone, the food we would have eaten…
I miss you, and wonder…
will you ever miss me?
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When I loved you
iaian7 » blog » poetry John Einselen, 12.05.07When I loved you, and you loved him,
and none of us could know,
the times to come, the waves to crash,
the stormy winds to blow…
When I loved you, and you loved him,
the world so sweetly calm,
the pain just starting, slowly building,
tuning for the dirge and psalm…
When I loved you, and you loved him,
and nothing could go on,
I had to resign, to thoughtless grief,
and find another song…
When you loved him, and I loved naught,
the quaking, beating drowned,
silent heart and muddled tears, and there I was,
laying dead upon the ground.
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Painful
iaian7 » blog » poetry John Einselen, 12.05.07An easy question,
simple,
soft,
and stinging.
They ask me,
interfere,
intrude,
and wonder.
Painful to remember,
recall,
relive,
and rekindle.
A single face,
loved,
lost,
and hated.
Yet it’s there,
still,
stubborn,
and silent.
Waiting for me,
waned,
withdrawn,
and remembered.
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Time and Change
iaian7 » blog » poetry John Einselen, 3.03.07Time has passed and things have changed,
water under the bridge, or so some say,
words unshared and thoughts unchained,
and paths more separate by the day.
Long since late nights, and cups of tea,
and memories of tears, but we let them be.
Perhaps content in mere retrace,
of cashmere lines and casualness,
but never recall the damp disgrace,
or listen for signs of tenderness.
We’ve left the ocean, the endless sea,
to forget the ever dredged debris.
Long time since we were both together,
hunkered down and snug as friends.
Must we now discuss the weather,
idle gossip, and our coffee blends?
Though time has passed and things have changed,
we should not leave things be.
If stars can die and have no pain,
together, neither shall we.
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A bad day
iaian7 » blog » poetry John Einselen, 20.07.06a bad day,
maybe a year.
as the trees bud,
and bloom,
and leaves grow
dark and green.
I find the longer days,
are feeling short.
and the eyes are hanging dull.
and as the traffic flows,
and ebbs and weaves.
and coats are welcomed,
yet again.
a bad day,
maybe a year.
oh the trials, and woes, and pains.
surely a person grows,
digs deep.
their will strengthened,
and arms holding fast.
a bad day,
perhaps just in my head,
and so, never ending.
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To choose this life
iaian7 » blog » poetry John Einselen, 14.07.06To choose this life,
of loneliness.
Forgotten, or alone.
What must one do?
The choices made,
the attitude applied.
preparing for a role.
In the theater,
acting out a tragedy.
With the actor as only audience.
What must one do?
How to alienate,
remove, and seclude.
to choose this life…
What must one do?
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Sit down
iaian7 » blog » poetry John Einselen, 14.07.06go there.
go here, and come.
sit down.
let a person sigh.
you’ve felt.
you’ve lost, and now.
the insides.
tied up, and sad.
no option.
no out, but through.
though darkness.
maybe an end.
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Blue jean V's
iaian7 » blog » poetry John Einselen, 4.07.06we sit down,
and our legs spread out.
making blue jean V’s,
on the gray wooden boards.
maybe we laugh,
or perhaps just sigh.
watching the clouds,
and dust from distant cars.
on dark blue plates,
and covered in butter.
we’d eat corn on the cob,
so crisp, and fresh, and warm.
sitting on the porch,
with our legs spread out.
blue jean V’s,
on the gray wooden boards.
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Really like this poem, it has a really nice flow to it. Keep up the good work mate
Mat (UK)