The Tourist (Challenge Poem)

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ethome
Member Patricius

since 2000-05-14

Posts 11858
New Brunswick Canada

0 posted 2002-05-15 06:58 AM

Oh the old man is dying and the years have lost heir glow
His thoughts all turn into visions of the days of old.
His eyes are red and the truth seems dead and time spins too slow.
And the old man's coming home like a tourist.

His fears are more than hope would stop as he humbles with bequeath.
There are frozen faces everywhere but no one knows his grief.
Oh his hassle is the waiting game before the subtle end.
And the old man heads home like a tourist

And in the final darkness he'll face whatever comes his way.
His destiny will surround him as upon his knees he prays
And he marvels how it happened that his true love flew away.
Since she's been gone he's been like a tourist.

Yet as everyone is speaking a vision comes so clear
Amoung the heaven's clouds he can see a smile so dear
And a voice comes from the hillsides of the long forgotten years
and he hears her greet him there as a tourist.

Oh he clutches at the images and he calls out her name
And he can hear the magic sound of her soft spoken ways.
It's her loving voice calling from the fields of their plowed ground
and he sees the familiar gate await a tourist.

With a feeble cry the old man trys to touch her silky cheeks
The children long for another dawn but the old man seeks her peace
And for an old and trembling father the clock will turn no more
as he arrives at the final home like a tourist.

The role of poetry is to utter the un-utterable; to open up
spaces of consciousness and resistance; to language oppressions; to
re-language historie

[This message has been edited by ethome (05-15-2002 07:07 AM).]

Janet Marie
Member Laureate

since 2000-01-22

Posts 18554

1 posted 2002-05-15 08:10 AM

With a feeble cry the old man trys to touch her silky cheeks
The children long for another dawn but the old man seeks her peace
And for an old and trembling father the clock will turn no more
as he arrives at the final home like a tourist.

=======================

this is bittersweet beauty Ethome...
written with your classic sytle of meter and blues harmony running thru.
good to read you again.
peace and poetry
jm

When your own emptiness is all thats getting through
There comes a point when youre not sure why youre still talking...
I passed that point long ago

Seymour Tabin
Member Empyrean

since 1999-07-07

Posts 31720
Tamarac Fla

2 posted 2002-05-15 09:03 AM

ethome
A very nice write and I enjoyed the read.

Mistletoe Angel

Member Empyrean

since 2000-12-17

Posts 32816
Portland, Oregon

3 posted 2002-05-15 10:05 AM

(big hugggssssss) Oh Eric, this is so sad but beautiful, sweet friend, I too know how you feel for I am still young and my grandparents are still living and I am so happy I can spend so much time with them, but yet I feel sad wondering what I will say or feel when their time comes and I just want to live up every moment I can to them when that time comes around! (sigh) God Bless You, sweet friend, you are a true angel of words, this is a wonderful challenge reply, we all love you so much! You have such a beautiful heart, sweet Eric, thank you for sharing!

May love and light always shine upon you!

Love,
Noah Eaton

"Underneath your clothes there's an endless story..."

Shakira

Martie

Moderator

Member Empyrean

since 1999-09-21

Posts 28049
California

4 posted 2002-05-15 10:22 AM

Tenderly written, Eric...shows your heart.

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