 |
Poems On Site: 198,500+ Comments On Poems: 427,000+ Forum Posts: 105,000+ |
Custom Search
|
|
|
||||
| Welcome ! | Home · FAQ · Topics · Web Links · Your Account · Submit Poetry · Top 30 · OldSite Link | 29-May 16:57:10 AEST | ||
|
|
||||
|
|
||||
|
|
||||
|
Array
(
[sid] => 34129
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => Reminiscence (edited)
[time] => 2004-02-06 22:41:30
[hometext] => This poem is for anyone who's lost someone. Celebrate life. Don't be saddened by death.
[bodytext] => The wind whistled Through the cracks of the house, An old facade of a hope That faded into a world of dreams. And within sat a man, Contemplating heavily his life With each breath he took. Oh how he yearned for more. The sand in the hour glass ran empty, The clock on the wall long dead, And ever so slowly did the man move... Move to count the time. Without a sound he leaned over, Touched his ancient hand upon His ancient hourglass, counting not only the current time, But also the future. His future. And ever so slowly did he sit back, Knowing deep inside that, Much as the sands wasted away, So did he. He thought back on his life, Cracking a smile so slight that It was difficult to see in the dim orange hues Of the advent sunset outside. "So many sunsets have I seen," he whispered, "So many beautiful sunsets." He turned, cocking his head to listen to The sounds of Mozart on his phonograph. "So many amazing songs have I heard," he whispered, "Such intricacy and grace." His crooked smile crept upon his face again, The wrinkles of time playing across his features heavily. And he sat still, smiling In that dark, old room, Staring at the oak walls For so long a time. The scent of the pine trees outside Danced across the breeze drifting through the open window, And played on his nose gently, Arousing his senses once more. "So many sweet fragrances have I smelled," he whispered, "Like the perfume Beth always wore." Closing his eyes and leaning back in his mahogany rocking chair, He sighed a sigh full of knowledge and wisdom. The sand trickled through the aperture of the glass, Falling bit by bit, grain by grain. The old man reached out cautiously, eyes still closed, and turned the hourglass just as the last particle dropped. "So many fine, soft things I have felt," he whispered, "So many small, delicate features." His hand caressed the table on which the hourglass sat, A table of exceptional craftsmanship, sturdy and strong, but beautiful. "And there is one who I have loved greatly," he sighed, "And I wish to see her once more." His lingering smile faded slightly, And he sat still once again. Only occasionally did the creak of the rocking chair Disturb the serene peacefulness of the empty room, Devoid of all except memories, and only so slightly Did it sound, as if it feared imposing on the tranquility. In between the minutes, the silence grew tight. The hourglass drained away quickly, Creating a hole in middle of the sand, leaving a mere minute's worth Sitting defiantly against time itself. The very last of the sun's brilliant corona Set down beyond the distant hills, Leaving its pale reflection off of the clouds on the horizon As the only source for light inside the cold, dark house. The final particle of time's measure Dropped through the hourglass one last time, And the glass sat awaiting its owner's tender assistance; A reassurance that life was continuous and everlasting. But no sound nor movement broke the silence, No creased hand strained to reach beyond The boundary of the chair's arm on which it rested. No more did the man care about time. The sun had set on his last day, The hour arrived on which he knew he was due. His half-cocked grin, the same that spread wide across A boy's face once in happier times long gone, Broke the stoic expression, And, through his parted lips, A small, short breath of air passed, Then nothing more. I stood up and stared down at this man, This old man who had seen hatred, pain, love and joy, And I reveled in his peacefulness. I placed my hand on his shoulder and said, "I've always loved you, dad. I've always loved you." I walked out and stood on the porch. In the distance, playing across the wind, was a child's laughter. [comments] => 2 [counter] => 734 [topic] => 52 [informant] => thespiritx [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 10 [ratings] => 2 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => goodbyepoetry )
|
Menu
· 
Poetry
Community
Members
Areas
Reference
Search
Top
Others
Poetry is much like a great photo, a single "moment in time" capturing many feelings and emotions. Yet, they are very alive; creating stirrings within the readers who form visual "pictures" of the expressed emotions within the Poem. ©
Opinions expressed in the poetry, comments, forums etc. on this site are not necessarily those of this site, its owners and/or operators; but of the individuals who post items to this site.
Frequently Asked Questions | | | Privacy Policy | | | Contact Webmaster
All submitted items are Copyright © to their submitter. All the rest Copyright © 2002-2050 by Your Poetry Dot Com
All logos and trademarks in this site are property of their respective owners.
Script Generation Time: 0.052 Seconds. - View our Site Map | .© your-poetry.com