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Dark Poetry #3
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the old man by the fire
| Dark Poetry #3 |
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the old man by the fire |
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arthur Senior Member
since 2001-08-14
Posts 678england |
The old man by the fire Dont mind him The old man by the fire He is not there but some place else His mind is going He will not notice us They smile Leave him alone Let him be He seems to smile He is at the Saturday dance The music is inviting It shouts join in ,leap and prance The girls swirl by A riot of colour Blue,black,green and red Laughing , bright eyed ,inviting lips The music ends and the chattering starts The girls stand in small groups Twos,threes and even fours Never alone and accessible He has watched her all night The swell of her bodice The shape of her leg She seems a nice girl A friendly sort Not as pretty as some But not plain No not plain,just nice A kind face Now is the time to be bold In his best suit and white shirt Kept for funerals and dances Lovingly ironed by a caring mother It takes courage To cross the floor To cross from the boys side to theirs To stand behind the chosen girl Her friends stop talking in mid word They stare at him and seem to say "how dare you interupt Destroy our sisterhood Choose her and not us?" She turns and looks at him He does his best to smile Tentatively ,shyly she smiles back Silence ,panic ,what to do now? Neither knows the rules Saved!.The music plays He offers his hand She takes it Fits herself to him They swirl off Part of the moving mass Margeret and Michael He looks down on her golden hair She looks up into his blue eyes Dance after dance Swirling and turning Ever closer,ever more together "Walk you home?" She tells her freinds They dont approve but she does not care Hand in hand ,silent on the trolley bus Her street,so empty and quite That fumbled first kiss The first of thousands A drink of which he never tires He reaches out to stroke her hair Silver now but he does not care The watchers grin and nudge each other The see the old man smiling Stroking the empty air A lost expression on his face They wink , grin and touch there foreheads He does not notice nor would he care They do not exist for him He has his own world Only he and his dear dead Margret live there arthur congaratualations to anyone who got this far |
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| © Copyright 2002 michael bennett - All Rights Reserved | |||
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Enchantress Member Empyrean
since 2001-08-14
Posts 35113Canada eh. |
Arthur, You KNOW this is a favourite of mine from you..one which I proudly display on my web site. Great imagery and emotions here. Very very well done...hauntingly sad write. Thank you for sharing it here soothers could enjoy as well. ~Hugs across the pond~ ~Somewhere in my heart I'm always |
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devina Member Elite
since 1999-10-28
Posts 3539Cali |
You've captured the essence of one, mayhap many with this... I can see through those eyes, and that sir- is a good thing!!! enjoyed this much!!! Open arms can be the most fragile in the world... |
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wranx Member Elite
since 2002-06-07
Posts 3689Moved from a shack to a barn |
This, sir, is lovely. ~wranx "Writing is a perfectly natural thing to do....just remember to wash your hands afterward"....Heinlein. |
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arthur Senior Member
since 2001-08-14
Posts 678england |
thank you one and three for your kind words and bothering to read such a long item. a walk round an old persons home is quite an emotive experiance arthur |
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bsquirrel
since 2000-01-03
Posts 7855 |
That was beautiful. These smiling eyes are just a mirror for the sun. |
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deep_thought Junior Member
since 2002-06-28
Posts 24 |
This piece stirred up a lot of thoughts and emotions in my head. "You can observe a lot by just watching." |
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brian sites Senior Member
since 2002-06-25
Posts 1475usa |
Thank you for the read Arthur. Thanks even more for the invite to your write. I think seeing a loved one getting old can be startling, but we should always remember- we will be them someday. Loved your poem. Keep 'em comin' BS I never aimed at reality; I aimed at truth. --Orson Welles |
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Stephanos
since 2000-07-31
Posts 3618Statesboro, GA, USA |
This is quite a beautiful poem. It flows like the dances that are described. Stephen. |
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