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Open Poetry #7
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Agression" [for a lost passion]
| Open Poetry #7 |
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Agression" [for a lost passion] |
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lucky Senior Member
since 2000-01-17
Posts 1601Idaho 
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so < !signature-->dark. [This message has been edited by lucky (edited 06-01-2000).] |
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| © Copyright 2000 Dale W. Gwaltney - All Rights Reserved | |||
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Rosemary J. Gwaltney Senior Member
since 1999-08-26
Posts 997northern mountains, Idaho |
Oh, sweetheart, I'm so sorry you're missing your friend Stephen Sadler. Such a death causes such a wound - it never really goes away - I know his friendship will always remain a treasure to you. I am so sorry. I am so sorry. |
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SilverTongue New Member
since 2000-04-18
Posts 8 |
Oh my, I am sorry for your loss. I guess i sort of out of words. I do hope you rise form this a tad bit stronger, but I know what its like to lose a friend. SilverTongue (p.s. I do so much love the way you arranged the poem in those unique shapes) |
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lucky Senior Member
since 2000-01-17
Posts 1601Idaho |
I thought I should explain... My friend wrote this and it was found in his possession after he took his own life. He was street people and a dear friend of 14 years. He wrote... As we walk alone, looking at the ground Does anyone see us, in this cold, lonely town? The eyes that don’t see us, even tho’ they stare. A dumpster for dinner A bridge for a home A great crowed of people Yet we’re still all alone. So onward I travel, I wonder how far A curse born forever under a wondering star. Stephen Llewellyn Sadler Nov. 19th. 1955 - Nov. 23rd. 1995 I had dropped this in a reply on one of Hoot_Owl's post a while back concerning suicied. It was a very trying time for me as we had stolen each others girl friends and such... even fought over them... spent time blaming myself... etc. It sucked. If I could paint a portrait, of this life in which I've led, and somehow sketch a story, of the visions in my head, I'd start out with a canvas, stretched tightly in a frame, and in the bottom corner, I'd leave room to sign my name. (Michelle A. Bartley) |
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Martie
Moderator
Member Empyrean
since 1999-09-21
Posts 28049California |
"love is the every only god who spoke this earth so glad and big even a thing all small and sad man, may his mighty briefness dig for love beginning means return seas who could sing so deep and strong one queerying wave will whitely yearn from each last shore and home come young so truly perfectly the skies by merciul love whispered were, completes its brightness with your eyes any illimitable star" *** ee cummings |
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hoot_owl_rn Member Patricius
since 1999-07-05
Posts 10750Glen Hope, PA USA |
WHat a beautiful tribute to a fallen star in his own right. Lovely heartfelt words to a friend  |
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lucky Senior Member
since 2000-01-17
Posts 1601Idaho |
Times were hard for the street people that year it was very cold, snowy and drear. The apartment complex that I’d been managing had a one room basement where I allowed Steven a place to lay his head. He spoke with a heavy southern drawl and had told he was born in Mississippi, no doubt it was the truth. His favorite words were “ya all’s” which laced every sentence he spoke. He was a terrible drunk yet one very large church allowed him to chef their yearly Thanksgiving dinner for the street/bridge people. He did that for a number of years (truly it was the highlight of his world and brought meaning to his life) until that last particular year when the church decided to tell him he would not be under circumstances the chef that year unless he stopped drinking. He tried so hard too but he just couldn’t stop. So just a few days after his birthday and as you can see one before Thanksgiving he took his life. It caused no small stir in the church which was the biggest in town. Many members quit attending. It made the front page news, not really him... but the church. They took away his one reason for living and with that... he decided he was no longer needed and the world could do without him... and took his life. I just want to thank you all again. I guess when Ruth posted her piece on suicide, the anger surfaced again in my soul. But I did want to thank you Ruth for your posting, I’ve written several poems and intend to put them on our Bereaved Site. So good came from it. Thank you very much. If I could paint a portrait, of this life in which I've led, and somehow sketch a story, of the visions in my head, I'd start out with a canvas, stretched tightly in a frame, and in the bottom corner, I'd leave room to sign my name. (Michelle A. Bartley) |
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passing shadows Member Empyrean
since 1999-08-26
Posts 45577displaced |
boy...you were in a mood then, weren't you? |
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