An empty penut butter jar, a saltine cracker box, and some Orange Crush cans sit in the trash. An old worn leather recliner in the corner by the window. The wall mounted TV stuck on Gunsmoke. The wrinkle free bed covers tucked in tight. A small dog lays at the foot of the bed and looks longingly at the door. Everything in place—except you.
I'm here
you're not—
sadness
They say
that in poetry
one can confess
all their sins
be freed from
their past
and start again
but these words
I write
won’t last long enough
to be remembered
no matter how hard
I try to hide them
behind flowery prose
they will never
smell like a rose
On Christmas day before he died,
I went home to visit my dad.
The house was full of family,
our mood was quite somber and sad.
We drifted in and out the room,
where he lay dying in his bed.,
Each of us sharing memories,
saying the words that needed said.
Those last days perhaps the hardest,
as death became reality.
We made the promise to ourselves,
to hold on to his memories.
We were grasping for any hope,
all my brothers, sisters, and me.
We had not yet convinced ourselves,
it was time to let him be free.
Be free to hunt that long coon hunt,
that will never come to an end.
To dance his jig among his friends,
to lie beside his wife again.
Goodbye my beloved father,
in my heart you will always be.
Place a kiss on my mother’s cheek,
and tell her that it is from me.
She stared at the pictures and all,
the memories came rushing in.
She knows these faces of children,
and remembers her life again.
Once again she heard their laughter,
like before her life fell apart.
A tear of joy streaked her soft cheek,
as she felt their love fill her heart.
It is all the warmth she can feel,
as her grandchildren hug her deep.
The light on their face as they smiled,
these memories she vows to keep.
A light twinkles in her grey eyes,
a gentle smile slips ‘cross her face.
For just a few moments she is,
back in her family’s embrace.
The light begins to peel away,
her mind fades back to submission.
Please stay she begs, to no avail,
cause her memories won’t listen.
Futile musings of an old ghost
Ramblings
Footprints of a Witness.
Poetry, short stories and a smidgen of real-life drama
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The Poems of Sam Bartle
Gabriela Marie Milton - Three Times #1 Amazon Bestselling Poet, Pushcart Nominee, Publisher
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The musings and ramblings of a young poet.
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Life is a story, waiting to be told
Daydreaming and then, maybe, writing a poem about it. And that's my life.
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Jerry Brotherton 