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On Line
Eric Gasparich
Rahmi Safitri
2 Writers

0 Free Members

2 Members
52 Guests

Last Stop Every Body Off
by Walter Jones (Age: 63)
copyright 09-02-2006


Age Rating: 10 to 127

 

There is a call from the mountain
to the water and grief
a version of forgiveness
much like the cross and the thief


Slide the wise and the fearful
into dreams from everyday life
Keep an ear open for dreaming
and in the wisdom
mother find a new life

soft the darkies are humming
and the music opens our eyes
all the vision of living
is in the hurt
in my child's closed eyes

come ye who speak the language
of earnest dreams left in barren streets
I hold no body in repentance
only love in every heart that speaks

child I reach for the offering
of time as a place to rest
take my body
and my soul
you can keep the rotting rest

Times are hard in the valley
and the world knows me not
but in the perfect of believing
I will leave you not

come whisper to the evening
take your place in alley and bar
reach for the bottle
and prey on any living
star

wonder of the ages
as tears fail to fall
I lift up your spirit
and take the names
off the falling wall

ashes are the wisdom
of a live lived in Cain
but in the morning of trouble
each of you will call my name

come now my darling
linger a moment
taste the bourbon
and savor the wine
a gift nature
in fermentation
leaves you
body and soul
but not mine

One of these days
as time allows
you a picture will form
and in the wallow of rebuilding
we all will be taken home

come and meet me
in the garden
take the burden of yesterday's dream
and take my heart that you long for
and float like a bad daydream

Soft the wind
as I stop for
resting in the view
of a nightmare
comfort my sorrow
as if you could
not be there

people who do not know me
offer a real voice
in their care
hearts reach to me
but in the aftermath I just do not care

Slivers of light dance on candles
every word the same
you spread your wings to fly
into the wild untamed

Slide the wise and the fearful
into dreams from everyday life
Keep an ear open for dreaming
and in the wisdom
mother
finds her a new life




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Comments on this Article/Poem:
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05-09-2007 Richard Reed Jr    

To me
this piece is like an art gallery
in the wing where the surrealistic paintings are hung. I wander from dream to dream and as I wander, different and varying moods overtake me.

Good write Walter,

Rich


Visitor Reads: 379
Total Reads: 403
Comments: 1

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