offstage —

On 2023040120230401 By Beleaguered ServantIn Original PoemsLeave a comment

there's days I feel my love is slipping off 
she cannot find her mark --  
days it feels like she can't do it all again 
things are just stuck 
the ground is all muck -- 

it's like another rehearsal 
performances never seem to come 
just auditions for an empty part 
so many lines 
with just no meaning 

she hears the sounds of others that say them 
she hears the man's voice as it's calling out her name 
just the same things every day and every night 
it's just too much to take 
and she feels about to break 

it's the way that offstage feels these days 
empty and alone 
like a wandering balloon that 
has long-since lost it's home 
when is her part of the sky? 
all of life has gone by -- 

and she says, "hold me, hold me. 
I cannot find my light -- 
I'm offstage and empty 

and cannot face the night -- " 

and she says, "all rehearsals, 
and I don't give a damn: 
I'm always offstage now, 

and don't know who I am -- "

lines (6)

On 2023031420230314 By Beleaguered ServantIn Original Poems1 Comment

we loved in voyages of mind 
though we were called "too young", 
and ours was a music purer than 
the tunes most often sung. 

i cannot tell you why it was, 
or how it came to be -- 
i only know its time was brief, 
just one 

eternity

For You I Can Be

On 2023011420230114 By Beleaguered ServantIn Original Poems1 Comment

WHEN THE DAY presses down like a barbell on a rack, 
Like an iron on a shirt, like sharp noise upon the ears, 
Come to me, and I will soothe your nerves, 
I'll be a place to rest, and you can feel the pressure 
Slowly start to lift 

Maybe nothing takes the pain away, and nothing ever could, 
But you at least don't need the tension of the bracing for the pain, 
You can give up or just give in with me, it's safe here by my side, 
And you can take from me this simple, easy gift 

Let the sun rain down like Saturday, the winter hide its face; 
Let the world go back into its angry corner -- 
Come to me, and I will be for you the quiet that you need, 
One small place to turn the chaos into order

“in our broken way…”

On 2023010320230103 By Beleaguered ServantIn Original PoemsLeave a comment

in our broken way 
we stumble 
up each steep incline 

scrambling for 
some kind of foothold 
but slipping 

and knowing 
the top's no better 
than right here

Stealing Now

On 2022121720221216 By Beleaguered ServantIn Original PoemsLeave a comment

A winter morning on the gulf. 
The beaches, lately full, are bare; 
He walks along here, worrying, 
Weighed down with coat, and cold, and care, 

And choices made that steal his sleep. 
But stealing now into his mind: 
A love that steals his breath away 
Out there somewhere he cannot find

in the violet

On 2022121220221212 By Beleaguered ServantIn Original PoemsLeave a comment

coming blue the nightfall, 
agency, and ill-repute -- 
orange, the horizon, 
life itself, a hard commute -- 

finding in the violet, 
narcissism worms its way 
toward a yellow yielding -- 
heaven promised, hell to pay -- 

they, the young in gray time, 
"privilege" -- linguistic hex -- 
but, the blackening shadows 
see her looking for 

what's next

In The Sunlit Park

On 2022112620221126 By Beleaguered ServantIn Original PoemsLeave a comment

I saw them in the sunlit park, 
And had to smile, knowing well 
How precious, and how brief, these times 
Can be, And yet how long the spell 

Can linger after. Even when 
The skies turn gray as hair and eyes, 
They'll still recall the sunlit park, 
For love's the thing that never 

Dies

within the glade

On 2022112620221126 By Beleaguered ServantIn Original PoemsLeave a comment

they kissed inside the copse, 
and loved within the glade. 
these words fell out of use; 
their love's no longer made, 

for it, too, fell into disuse. 
but such are life's cruel dealings: 
we will lose definitions, 
the same way we 

lose feelings

a better use of time

On 2022112120221113 By Beleaguered ServantIn Original Poems1 Comment

there in the past we were, but here, 
there's sameness, and there's tiredness; 
you watch romantic movies, and 
it isn't all that hard to guess 

that you wish you were somewhere else. 
it's not to wave our life away: 
just to be back inside the new 
when good-surprises led the day,  

and we were young. that thing we lose 
when careless years stack up on years, 
and we have less from which to choose 
in laughs, and far too much in tears. 

i wish that i could give you now 
the things you miss -- i miss them too -- 
but every day is like a gauge 
that falls, until the fuel is through. 

perhaps, a better use of time, 
is then to say what love can say: 
i'm here, i'll sit and watch with you, 
and we, at least, can share each sacred 

day

No Talent for Certainty

Tag: Love

offstage —

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lines (6)

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For You I Can Be

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“in our broken way…”

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Stealing Now

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in the violet

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In The Sunlit Park

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within the glade

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a better use of time

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To share is human:

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To share is human:

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To share is human:

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To share is human:

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To share is human:

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To share is human:

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To share is human:

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To share is human:

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To share is human:

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