By Charles Robert Lindholm
forlorn and forgotten
like refrigerator art
once you vowed to love me
but now we live apart
Poems, poets, poetry, writing, poetry challenges
Stepped on a crack in the pavement of life And heard something chasing me Turned and saw the bears of the night Bricked it, suddenly Ran so hard I thought I would die But the bears were still hot on my trail Panicked, I thought of a way to be free But thought it would probably fail
When you're under the weather and feeling quite ill and you're not at all sure if you're quite yourself still and everything aches and all energy's gone and you can't string two words together for long You know that it's time to stay warm in bed and let sleep the good healer do its stuff instead as though at present it's naff and you're not feeling clever you know you'll get better and this won't last forever
With lucidity lightbulb moments came to me from left field this week Caught me unaware but filled the hole which had been growing
Sat in the hospital waiting room there with Sal for moral support on a very cold winters' morning ('cos it's the right thing and I ought) Here for an eyesight inspection post-op (trust everything's good) 'cos we're not as young as we were and things don't work quite as they should
New week and new me at least that's the intention as I don't want to dwell or perhaps even make mention of what this past fortnight has been my malaise which sadly protracted itself there for days As I'm mostly I think a quite chirpy fellow not given to stupor or times when quite mellow inactivity rules and the mind gather dust and an ache of the limbs like a mildew or rust...
I came up for air, been down there a while it was getting quite hard to breathe but at the edge of my sight I saw a feint light and knew I would there find relief
An empty seat awaits your presence and when you occupy it, I will be rowing you silently through an ancient route. You sit there on the other end of the boat and look around. As you will find me absorbed in rowing you choose not to ask me that one question and you keep it for later. Then when you gaze the grasslands and the infinite sky a shimmering golden breeze kisses your face and you feel strange. For you know this breeze and this recollection will make you feel like you know every pixel of what you see and you know every grain of your feeling. Like you know everything about everything here for ages. Like something is speaking to you and waiting for you to break your silence. Yet, your silence is your only language, your only means to express. You look at me and I raise my head. In the moment, something in us knows that a word will be too much. Your question drops. And, a wordless journey on an ancient route goes on..
A face lay there in eternal sleep,
No smile.
No frown.
I wonder,
“After all, smiles and frowns are of this world”.
I own nothing
The ideas I present
The feelings I feel
The thoughts I think
And, the words I used
Or continue to use to express myself.
Everything, ever that has been
Has been through:
Absorption, assimilation, memorization
Recollection, repetition and more memorization.
The music was there with something afresh
it had found and picked up on the way
Something perhaps
with live music’s lapse
that made it quite special today
Seemed the musicians had put in their all
throwing energy full in the licks
As they could not perform
‘Cos now’s not the norm
so they put all they had in the mix
August Bank Holiday Monday
sun is shining and it’s warm
so to the beach I should be heading
as you would ‘cos it’s the norm
Yet instead I sit in A&E
my leg still causing pain
Not my first choice I’ll admit
to be in here again
Strangely though it was the beach
just last Wednesday night
where I sustained the injury
the reason for my plight
Adaptation is a precious thing
as it proves that we are able
to make the very best of things
when cards are on the table
I speak of course of Covid
and the lockdown and the change
it’s brought worldwide to all of us
as we all re-arrange
There’s been loss and there’s been sadness
as the pandemic’s taken hold
taking toll from everyone
from young to very old
The knock at the door
I remember it well
though forty-six years have now passed
The vicar right there
with something to share
for a slap in the face that would last
It was anger I felt
with a fist in the air
that my father had left in that way
And I heard not a sound
from that hole in the ground
as I stood on that February day
By Charles Robert Lindholm
He Left Her
With Her Heart
In Pieces On The Floor
Shattered In The Moment
He Said, “I Don’t Love You Anymore”
She Sat Alone In Darkness,
In Silence And With Tears
And Finally Found The Pieces
She Had Searched For Through The Years
She Rescued All The Pieces
Left Lying On The Floor
Her Heart’s No Longer Fragile
It’s Stronger Than Before