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Musical Chairs
| Open Poetry #32 |
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Musical Chairs |
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Mistletoe Angel 
since 2000-12-17
Posts 32816Portland, Oregon |
(Here's an emotional re-post of a poem I performed recently at a Boulder poetry festival, as many friends find this to be one of my most heartbreaking yet beautiful poems! (Hanky-Alert!  )  Musical Chairs By: Noah Eaton 2/5/00 (Revised 5/2/03) Alone Sitting on the porch swing in my backyard I hear the back gate cry Like a wind raping its will Like the little girl I used to know Who sparkled in her yellow Winnie the Pooh T-shirt With blue eyes that made you believe in cherubs Floated like a wedding gown on a clothesline Like a simulacrum of a Strevens painting Now I nod slowly Thinking if the angels grieve When my soul sister cries But the sky is gray... And I want to be innocent again Won't someone turn the music on once more I know I won't see her again But I just want to pretend My soul sister is still here That she's still skipping around these chairs Before I run to my room and cry... Her face reminds me of a Pierre-Auguste Renoir portrait Envisioning the tears in her eyes Lost in some Luncheon of a Boating Party Looking at her youthful face sadly like Morisot's "The Cradle" Your beach ball is still lying in my sandbox And your jacks and Raggedy-Ann dolly Before my playground disappeared from me... And I want to be innocent again Won't someone turn the music on once more I know I won't see her again But I just want to pretend My soul sister is still here That she's still skipping around these chairs Before I run to my room and cry... I feel like a stranger on our old swingset And I have twenty questions I can't express Wondering if the angels grieve And if the pain is more than it seems And no one is listening to me... The mountains don't even understand how I am feeling The nights feel too long and I just can't sleep them through God knows He wants me to move on But there's no practical influence to look upon As I'm still playing this game of musical chairs Like a tree with a tornado stripping its branches bare It rather feels like duck, duck, goose They took you way too soon This is a game I want to lose... . . . . . . . . . . Sorry... . . . sorry... . . . sorry... . . . sorry... . . . I didn't turn off the music, . . . I JUST WANT TO PRETEND, . . . YOU'RE STILL HERE... . . . And I want to be innocent again Won't someone turn the music on once more I know I won't see her again But I just want to pretend My soul sister is still here That she's still skipping around these chairs Before I run to my room and cry... And I want to be innocent again I'm still standing here alone My heart and soul are bleeding My knees feel weak and asleep The music is dead And no one is listening to me Standing here between this circle of party hats and musical chairs...  "You'll find something that's enough to keep you But if the bright lights don't receive you You should turn yourself around and come back home" MB20 |
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| © Copyright 2004 Nadia Lockheart - All Rights Reserved | |||
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GlisteningRain Member
since 2004-05-06
Posts 103The clouds |
Whoa. That was intense. I especially like this part: "I hear the back gate cry Like a wind raping its will Like the little girl I used to know Who sparkled in her yellow Winnie the Pooh T-shirt With blue eyes that made you believe in cherubs" It added such a realness to the innocence of a child. The little girl you used to know. Did this really happen to you? |
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EvocativeVerse2 Senior Member
since 2003-09-10
Posts 1279 |
Hi Noah. WOW! This took my world away. I'd say breath...but...(I'm still breathing.) What I mean though is I was pulled into your piece and carried along by the words. It is a great poem my friend. Bravo! Remember, if you're not part of the future, you're history! |
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Opeth Senior Member
since 2001-12-13
Posts 1543The Ravines |
Noah... this poem was wrought with feeling, intensity, emotional persuasion, and pure good writing. Enjoyed! |
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Brad Majors
since 2001-04-03
Posts 2647Georgia |
sad but beautiful piece |
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