Wednesday Poetry Prompts: 020

As mentioned in an earlier post, Southwest Ohio was beat up by a wind storm that had hurricane force winds. Earlier in the weekend, I assured my sons that Ohio never experiences hurricanes (we just have twisters to contend with usually), but by Sunday evening daddy was proved wrong (once again).

Anyway, for this week’s prompt, I want you to write a poem about something that would make you happy. For me, that would be getting electricity at home again (been without since early Sunday afternoon). For someone else, that may be a trip to Paris or a visit from a loved one or a teleportation machine (with the gas prices these days, it would sure come in handy).

Here’s my silly attempt for the week:


Without you, I’m propping a flashlight’s glare
into the corner above the shower
to clean myself in almost warm water
before charging my cell phone in the car
on my way into work. I am sorry
I took you for granted. Please come back soon.


You might also like:

  • No Related Posts

41 thoughts on “Wednesday Poetry Prompts: 020

  1. Taylor Graham


    We come with shoes weighed down
    by the journey-mud we share,
    all of us bearing the rich earth
    we’re made up – red clay, black loam,
    adobe, fertile yellow soil, white
    limestone sand. We come with hands
    cupped for water from the well,
    the spring, the river, sweet heaven’s
    rain that even the rich can’t buy.
    We come with our poor burdens
    to bear, each one heavy with hope.
    We come with faces open as the air
    we breathe, our common sky.

  2. Monica Martin

    I’m a simple person,
    so it doesn’t take much
    to make me happy.
    It could be a new book,
    or a trip to the yarn store.
    When my knitting cooperates,
    and looks as it should.
    It could be a bowl of
    ice cream, or fuzzy
    socks. An Ace of Cakes
    marathon, or a PBS
    documentary. It doesn’t
    have to be big and
    fancy to cause my

  3. Joe

    Happiness is

    Falling into a money pit
    Hitting the jackpot
    Catching a perfect sunset
    Flying in the face of adversity
    Rolling with the flow
    Bolting in a flash…


  4. Linda

    Hey, everyone. I was out of town again. Just got in to read these.

    Carla, I know about those ever shrinking jeans!! Nice poem.

    Connie, I always look forward to reading your poems. Congrats on having I Can Chase a Lion published.

    Jolanta and Lorraine, good peoms.

    Stevie LeVoie, your poem is wonderful. I especially like the last part about the candy wrapper.

    Miguel, nice idea with the anthology. Unfortunately, I think Robert has his hands full with his work, writing, and moving. But, then again, doesn’t hurt to ask, eh? He’d certainly have to weed through a lot of work!

    My week is totally booked so if I don’t get around to this prompt I’ll jump back in next week.

    Linda H.

  5. Jane penland hoover

    Two Daughters

    So little remains
    in memory
    of years then
    when you were small
    and she smaller

    The two of you
    my delight
    the house so full
    sounds moving joy

    One day following another
    routines rising
    going and returning
    evenings eating out
    television and playing in the den

    Bedtime came and one by one
    a bath with splashing finished
    toys sorted into their place
    you beneath a pink plaid spread
    we reading “Little House”
    her holding to that blanket
    repeating “One fish, two fish..”

    Kisses all around
    and again
    and that last call
    “Mommy, please one more”
    anything for another minute

    And now I am the one
    wanting one more minute
    one more round of kisses
    girl voices calling
    “Mommy, please.”

  6. Jolanta Laurinaitis

    Just to explain my poem… for those who aren’t aware (or don’t live in Australia) we are facing a massive drought here in Australia, so much that we are forced to comply with water restrictions in summer (like no watering the garden unless it’s your house numbers weekend (odds and evens) and not at all on weekday except after 8pm or before 8 am). So this is a lament to my long missed favourite pastimes of having a bath 🙁

  7. Lori

    Since my last poem didn’t really answer the question, I decided to make another attempt. I still seem to skirt the issue a little but here it is anyway.

    Happy with time.

    More than 24 hours
    And I’d make the twenty-fifth count.
    More than 7 days
    And on the eighth I’d get my stuff done.
    More than 52 weeks
    And the fifty-third will be my vacation.
    More than 123 years
    And on the one hundred and twenty-fourth I’d tell
    the younger generation the answer to life and everything.

  8. Jolanta Laurinaitis

    What would make me happy

    Once again I would love
    To have a bath
    Without feeling guilt
    To surrender myself
    To the bubbles
    And indulge in the
    Sweet aromas
    Of oils and essences
    Feeling my toes
    My shoulders sigh
    And my chest release
    The days tensions
    Into the mystic pool
    But now my bath
    Runs dry
    The faucet is
    stuck with rust
    My plug has long
    It stands barren
    Bath salt crust
    Like the Murray River
    When we don’t heed warnings.
    Now all relaxtion
    Shall pay.

  9. Heather

    A year and change
    Has blown away
    Some of the harshest pain
    But hasn’t and never will touch the hole within my soul
    For my best friend, Claire, my “Mother Frog”

    Heather (Baby Frog)


    She’d Tell Me

    Today would make 61
    But truly, she didn’t look a minute past 40
    And certainly acted like she was 20 something
    And she’d tell me that age is just a number
    She still felt like a teenager

    I’d give anything
    To screech out the “Happy Birthday” song to her
    In my most operatic, ultra soprano, hideous tone
    Over the phone, like I always have
    To hear her infectious laughter
    And for her to tell me that she had been waiting to open the package I sent her
    Until we were on the phone

    She’d tell me who had called
    Who hadn’t called . . .
    Who she didn’t care if they ever called again
    Who was taking her to lunch and where they were going
    (Chinese, I’m sure)

    She’d tell me that she was wearing
    Her French cut bra
    And that she’d just done her nails
    In Neiman Marcus Red
    And that the night before she had trimmed her hair
    So she’d be ready to go

    She’d tell me that a lady never tells their age
    (Guess she wouldn’t like it that I’ve mentioned hers, but I just had to)
    And how she missed that sapphire ring that got stolen along with every last possession she ever cared about

    She’d tell me about her cane
    How she didn’t give a damn if anyone liked it or not
    And that actually, it made a good weapon

    She’d tell me she was worried about Rusty
    His feet and legs
    That he needed new shoes
    That he shouldn’t be standing so much
    And how he hadn’t been the same since the accident

    She’d tell me everything
    Things I had heard a thousand times before
    As well as up to the minute gossip and news

    She’d tell me to be nicer to my mom
    That I’d miss her one day . . .

    Mother Frog-
    You were my mom, my sister, my best friend
    You were everything
    And today, I’m going to screech out your birthday song
    At the top of my lungs
    In my most hideous, operatic, highest pitched tone
    (Without stripping my vocal cords)
    And I expect you to be laughing your ass off
    In heaven


    Baby Frog


  10. Tyger

    Childhood Once Again

    Golden sun rolling across heaven
    turns blush when it dips to the far earth
    mornings when mist devils
    dance in the meadows
    or nights thick with promise
    and heavy lilac smells
    This time without the nightmares please
    without him, who reaches
    between my skinny thighs to seek
    something so vile I do not name it
    This time my head stays high
    and my eyes fearless
    This time, my father’s father
    dies young
    and lets a girl grow up straight
    and free
    This time, when the wind plays
    in my dark, long hair
    I smile
    and don’t look over my shoulder

  11. Connie

    Salvatore, made me want to go to Acquaviva too, wherever that is.
    Miguel, great idea about the anthology though it sounds like a big project, loved your grandfather poem and thanks for the complement.
    Michelle, Sara, Earl, Rodney, Carla, Patti, Laurie, Gloryia some of my favorites.
    Patti you’re complement will encourage me for a long time. I’m tempted to put it on my refrigerator!
    Sheryl, love it, that’s what all moms wish for.
    Paige glad you’re okay.
    Great poems, everyone.
    FYI My story about my dad "I Can Chase Lions" appears in the newly released Cup of Comfort for Families Touched by Alzheimer’s. It’s a great book. I wish I had it when Dad was alive. Rodney, let’s put Alzheimer’s on your need-for-cure list.

  12. Carla Cherry

    Hi Miguel,

    Thanks for the compliment about my poem. I like yours as well; I can relate to your feelings about your grandfather, as I regret not being able to tell mine how much he meant to me before he died. He had dementia.

    I think it would be so poignant if you made the last line of your poem the first. It’s such a beautiful line.

  13. Gloryia

    And, I’m Happy

    Sitting, maybe dozing
    in the sun
    with the sea softly
    whispering its tune
    carried on the breeze
    that lifts my hair,
    that kisses my cheek.

    And should those
    lapping waves
    that crawl across
    golden sand brush
    against, then climb
    to tickle my toes:
    I’m happy.

  14. Paige

    I made it y’all, we survived the wrath of Ike. No power at home and they have now deemed the office building structurally sound so I am at work. And here I am happy that I was NOT one of the many swept out to sea or lost a home or roof or walls or even one of the many who lost water plus electricity.
    So onward we trudge this week’s piece like many before it can be found at the Writer’s Digest Forum, Critique Section in Poetry. It is titled


    Suddenly I can think of lots of things that make me happy!

  15. Joe Hesch


    I see their smiles and wonder
    what it is they feel
    that makes their faces bend up so.
    I’ve put myself in
    their places and my face still
    hangs from knotted brows.

    They gave me pills, they
    listened while I talked and I
    nodded while they hummed.
    She said I changed her life to
    something so blue she
    often thought of ending Us.

    “Why can’t you be happy?” rang
    the echoes of all
    those disappointed voices.
    They don’t understand,
    what would make me happy is
    knowing what “happy” is.

  16. LKHarris-Kolp

    I hope I didn’t offend anyone by my poem. I usually never cuss, but we have been through a lot these past three years, and that is just the way I felt.

    Laurie K.

  17. Steve LaVoie

    I apologize for being late with this.

    I hate having to trick or treat by telephone,
    having to sneak up on my own mirror
    or tying a steak around my neck so the dog
    will actually play with me.

    Do you think I want to be
    this way? Being the guy who
    makes Karl Rove look like Rudolph Valentino
    isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.

    If only I could just take off my outside
    appearance like a candy wrapper
    then I might be content

  18. Iain D. Kemp

    Tumblin’ Balls

    Time was I believed happiness
    lay in love. That I would spend
    eternity in bliss, in the arms
    of another, my soul-mate and lover.

    Time was I sought inner peace,
    tranquillity, harmony with the world,
    enlightenment and truth within
    my own mind. My personal Nirvana

    Time was when all passed me by;
    the future dull, the past a distant blur.
    I could no longer see my way.
    I was lost to love, lost to peace.

    Time was when I had to change,
    no longer trust, no longer care
    for those who would do me harm.
    A time of selfish pride had come

    Time haunts me still, waiting for
    a lone & lonely death to come
    but one thing is left for my dreams
    at night: The tumblin’ o’ the balls

    Time has come to show me now
    that happiness can be achieved
    with chance-gained hard cash
    The lottery’s prize as my saviour.

    Time and time again disappointment
    comes my way but still I wait another
    week to seek my fortune in the balls.
    To find my peace and freedom true

    Time might be against me still
    but with what little I have left
    I’d like to spend it spending money,
    living fat upon the hog. A rich man.

    Time was I believed happiness
    could not be bought. Now I know
    that it can only come at last to me
    in Euros, Dollars, Francs or Pounds.


  19. Rodney C. Walmer

     All But Forgot

    Someday there will be a shot
    and cancer will be all but forgot
    no more lonely widow’s
    no more orphan’s in the rain
    certainly, no more pain

    It will be just one injection
    no need for early detection
    for each and everyone
    it will be the same
    When it’s done
    for each and everyone
    a long life will be attained

    But, lets not stop with Cancer
    what about other disease
    surely there’s more then one answer
    more then one sickness to appease
    well, this shot will be universal
    a one-shot kill’s all
    one shot for the young the old
    the large and the small

    No longer the horror of HIV
    no longer the need anonymity
    after all,
    why should someone have to hide
    when their healthy on the inside

    Perhaps, it’s just a pipe dream
    or maybe a day or so away
    but for some, even a day is to far away
    or so it may seem
    what would make me happy
    simply put
    one simple shot
    so that pain, suffering and loss of life
    might become all but forgot. . .

    ©Rodney C. Walmer 9/17/08 a happy poem.

  20. Sheryl Kay Oder

    A Third Arm, Please

    The thought formed in those
    diaper-bag days, usually before
    climbing aboard a bus
    bound for her in laws’ home.

    Carrying her purse, diaper bag,
    and extra carryon required
    the agility of a juggler, or the
    strength of a weight lifter—probably both.

    Her shoulders were sore
    from heavy, dangling straps.
    She feared the baby would
    slip from her grasp.

    Her small daughter would
    crash and bruise herself
    on the cement, requiring police
    protection from the klutzy mom.

    Yes, a third or even a fourth
    arm would help ever so much.
    She wasn’t too picky about
    how the Lord accomplished this.

    Maybe the arm could be
    retractable, and inflatable.
    That way it would not be too
    bumpy-looking when not at work.

    Or it would be OK if He would
    inspire someone with a creative
    way to invent a belt with
    two attachable arms.

    All she knew was this
    incredible longing
    in her mother’s soul.

  21. LKHarris-Kolp

    Hurricane Ike

    This is what I’d like:
    if there never was a hurricane Ike.
    Then I’d be at home where I’m meant to be,
    instead I’m away for who knows how long
    without water and electricity.
    Trying to keep the children calm
    while my husband’s back home,
    working and toiling- being strong.
    At least we’re safe, alive and fairly well,
    but hurricane Ike- you can go to Hell.

    Laurie K.T

  22. patti williams

    Miguel – great job!

    Nancy – got it, felt it because you went straight to the heart, loved it.

    Connie – anything you write, I adore.

    Sara – we build houses and have moved 11 times in 14 years. I feel your pain as well as your dreams! It will sell. All it takes is the right buyer. Hang in there and then you can get that bike!

    Sharon – hats off. You’re having a good week!

  23. patti williams

    I wrote this last night – in honor of our 14th wedding anniversary – and happiness would be blue skies and calm waters …

    The road they walked
    almost washed away
    with all of the stormy
    days and nights that left
    the deep gaping holes
    along their path.
    If they weren’t
    watching closely enough,
    one of them could fall in and
    almost be swallowed up
    by the very world they
    travelled through.
    Luckily after years of
    facing the bad weather,
    they finally got a break
    when the sun decided to shine
    out of the darkness it had
    been hiding inside for so long.
    The clouds started fading,
    the sky turned more
    blue and less gray
    and they smiled
    at the thought of
    holding hands in the light.
    They could start walking
    again later after they
    rested a bit.
    It had just been so long
    since their world looked
    quite this beautiful
    and they didn’t want the
    moment to be lost so they sat
    together, listening to the sounds,
    unable to stop smiling
    about the future.

    Cheers poets …

  24. Miguel de Matos

    Aww Rodney. God Bless you and all those whose lives have been brought upside down by cancer. I myself face everyday the possibility of my late grandfather (27th January 1927-8th August 2005) have died from undiagnosed cancer. Though this is no way near the pain it must be to see violent cancers shred people and instead of letting them die in peace, let them die restless.
    Though, I think about this sometimes. What if my grand-dad did have cancer? What if the treatment could have stopped the cancer? What if he was here now? What if I was there when he called for me on his deathbed? What did he want to tell me? Has he forgiven me for what I did?…

    "Forgive Me."

    I know you can’t hear
    Me, I would wish you could.
    I would love to have you with
    Me – help me through my troubled
    Childhood. Taking me to places where
    I’ve never been before. Looking
    Out for new adventures, it was
    All I ever wanted. Yet
    I was ungrateful. I treated you
    Badly and I regret that but
    Now there’s no answer.

    You’ve gone and the sky is muted.
    I miss you every day. I remember
    all you did for me in every single way.
    I recall those long nights crying,
    soaking all my blankets, I didn’t know
    what to do. What would happen without you.
    Grandad, I was missing you.
    In these hard times coming, where
    I am divided to little shreds,
    Where I’m bound to be in three places in
    ten minutes or else I’m dead; I just
    want your words and a pat on my back.
    Are you proud of me, Grandad?

    You inspired me to be
    gentle and kind – an
    educated piece of mind –
    never caught without an answer –
    a fun sport with whom to be around.
    But when I left you in your bed,
    On that day I’d spent so merry, you were
    Calling out my name, you had
    Something to say. I want to
    Hear those Words. I need to hear
    Tender love. Advice. Forgiveness.

    "Sinto a tua falta, avô" (I miss you granddad)

    By the way people, your poems are fantastic. None more than the other. Lorraine, missed yours before but it really is wonderful. Sara, Sharon, Lori and Michelle – great poems. Carla, yours came up after Rodney’s while I was posting this. Interesting. Yes, I like it. Good job. Unusual topic but good job.

  25. Carla Cherry


    I am the happiest
    when I can spoon you,
    when you are
    between my lips,
    your vanilla sweetness
    melting against my tongue,
    your coolness pressed tightly
    against the roof of my mouth,
    coursing leisurely down my throat.

    If only
    I could
    consume you wildly
    every day
    without squeezing
    your aftermath
    into my shrinking jeans.

  26. Rodney C. Walmer

    My contribution, sorry if I am still on a cancer kick, but I have lost to many to this disease.

     The Cure

    So many have fought
    all for a little hope
    so many have died
    all of those families distraught
    left without someone to provide

    I am certain, I am sure
    that somewhere there is a cure
    there must be an answer
    with all of the research
    why are so many
    still dying from cancer

    How must so many cope
    with the ongoing pain
    or watching a loved one suffer
    hanging on to that thread of hope
    praying for an end, all in vain

    Some believe that there is a cure
    but the almighty dollar
    has a much greater allure
    If so, while some get rich
    there is always a scholar
    making some bogus claim
    always almost finding the answer
    yet, while celebrating his new found fame
    someone else dies of cancer

    I would be overjoyed if they found the cure
    just one,
    so that no one else would have this pain to endure
    in truth, they haven’t even begun
    if they had,
    many would lose their high paying salary
    perhaps, they are worse then the mob
    after all, killing is part of their daily job
    but, what’s really sad
    is the child who remembers the father he once had. . .

    ©Rodney C. Walmer 9/17/08 happy poem.

  27. Earl Parsons


    A 300 game
    A hole in one
    A round under par
    Three in the bull
    Eight ball on the break
    All rare but possible
    Euphoric for a moment

    The love of a wife
    The respect of my children
    The blessings of God
    Euphoric for a lifetime

    Washed by the blood
    Follower of Christ
    Peace beyond understanding
    Euphoric for eternity

  28. Sara McNulty

    House for Sale

    We have lowered the price four times
    Has no one a crushing desire to
    move to New York? We are done,
    longing for a new life in the green,
    free-thinking state of Oregon, where I
    swear I will buy a bike and ride, go back
    to Cannon Beach, and be content and
    happy writing poetry as I sit
    in a backyard mist.

  29. S.E. Ingraham

    My word – these are all so good! Miguel and Lorraine – you both brought tears to my eyes. Miguel, I could feel you trying to untangle yourself, trying to get home…not be alone. And Lorraine – you say it so well. Osama is the man of the hour, not just because he’s black, but also because he’s who he is and we, Canadians and Americans alike, need that part of the American dream, long past-due, realized. IMO – Sharon I.

  30. Lori

    In and Out

    Nothing external creates lasting unhappiness
    Though the passing kind can be
    Kind of distressing.

    Internally I know that all is passing and the only
    Lasting creation is one only
    One controls.

    So I feel the passing externals
    Like the wind that can cool me on a hot day
    Or freeze me on a cold one.
    But I will stay 98.6 as long as I’m alive.


  31. S.E. Ingraham

    If I Would Be Happy

    If I would be happy, the world would know only peace
    And children, every one, would be born into love and stay there
    Hunger would never refer to starvation from lack of food;
    there would be more than enough for all, and all would share
    The thirst for knowledge would dwell in every soul;
    a quest for a meaningful existence would be a given
    However, religion would be recognized as a failed experiment;
    one that had started out with good intentions, repeatedly
    but had gone seriously awry, in almost every single example
    resulting in war and acrimony, pitting god against god
    If I would be happy, living a questioning, tolerant life
    where everyone respected everyone else, would be presumed
    While debate and intellectual foment would be encouraged
    the true meaning of democracy would be observed
    People would also be responsible stewards of the earth
    realizing naturally and unselfishly that they are needed
    If I would be happy, life wouldn’t be perfect but
    it wouldn’t be quite so fraught with tension,
    worry, hate and death
    If I would be happy, it might sound boring,
    but I’d still like to give it a shot.


  32. Michelle H.

    “Teleportation Machine”

    My husband travels every week
    for that job that earns his keep.
    While I stay home and tend our sheep
    it is not for the very meek.

    The homework comes every night
    and I have to check if it is right.
    Then much to my dismayed delight
    I might just get to stop a fight.

    Don’t get me wrong, my girls are good
    but they bicker like sisters should.
    I just wish that sometimes they would
    leave my in peace if they could.

    My husband would rather be here
    so he could make that math more clear.
    Then leave again without fear
    that by evening he would reappear.

    So, dear lord this I pray
    For an engineer so he could say
    “Beam me up Scotty without delay
    my wife wants me home today.”

  33. Miguel de Matos

    Great Poems people! Lovin’ this. In times as needy as this one, we really needed this prompt. Nancy, Loved. Salvatore, breath-taking. Connie, Dazzling!
    I think we should have Robert edit a poetry anthology with a few of the best poems in Poetic Asides. I’d buy! This community has been inspiring, welcoming, revealing and above all, a useful resource that has made me learn a lot and find better ways to express myself.

    ^^ Going through a Thanks-giving phase.

  34. Connie

    Like Babies in the Womb

    By Our Love
    You Big Oaf
    Out of Joint
    Joyful Noise
    Hayseed, no!
    Grave Secrets
    Buford’s Secret
    In a High Place
    Miracles Among Us
    Alone in Her Class
    A Hidden Lion Roars
    Guardian in the Wind
    What World are We In?
    But Normal Doesn’t Fit
    As the Dominoes Topple
    At the Jamestown Massacre
    Aloha Means Hello and Goodbye
    Tiger Stripes and Traffic Lights
    Kin, Calamities and Country Living
    I wish I’d get one of my books published!

    Nancy, Your poem says it all.

  35. Salvatore Buttaci


    I will go to Acquaviva sometime,
    perhaps not now when life is so demanding:
    there’s work and rent to pay and bills galore.
    I will go to Acquaviva sometime
    and walk those cobblestones as times before.
    Those long-lost days of youth as bright as sunlight–
    Where have they disappeared? Oh, back then,
    the laughter that echoed off the white-stone
    houses! Aunt Rosalia calling me
    for dinner. The boys playing soccer in
    the fields. Padre Mendola waving us
    to mass. Sometime I will go there, relive
    those joyous days I saved in my memory,
    laugh again with those who’ve survived the years.
    I’ll pretend I hear my Grandpa Papa ‘To’
    as I pass the house on Via Crispi
    where he once lived. I’ll breathe into my soul
    the scent of bougainvillea and recall
    how once I carried home some blossoms
    and kept them till they turned to dust.
    I will go to Acquaviva sometime,
    but who can say when that day will be.
    For now I’ll take what sleep will bring me
    as I lie in bed and dream me there.
    I will go to Acquaviva sometime.
    Perhaps not now, perhaps someday,
    perhaps, perhaps.


  36. Lorraine Hart

    Oh, I’d be so happy to see
    a family bold, black and beautiful
    in that pristine White House.
    Why? Because he looks like me–
    and being black’s not what I mean.

    I walked more of the world before I was ten,
    than most native-born Americans,
    knew the resulting hurt of men
    who saw only their right and greed,
    above anything the world might need.

    Oh, I’d be so happy to see that young
    hopeful and striving man
    who grew up in the big world,
    who brought it home to community,
    making the American Dream real for me.

  37. Nancy Posey

    Like Browning’s “Last Duchess,” perhaps I too
    have “ a heart too soon made glad.” How else
    can I overlook war in the world, mortgage banks
    teetering on the edge of collapse, and glaciers
    puddling into the ocean, as I smile when my bread
    rises or my son calls to tell me he loved the book
    or a student I barely remember from long ago
    writes to share a poem? When the bakery’s not
    out of warm spinach scones and the office coffee
    pot’s still full, I’m as happy as Miss Brill with
    an almond in her Saturday cake. All I need is
    an old song on the radio , a parking space
    that opens up right by the door, or a folded twenty
    deep in the pocket of last year’s jeans.
    Or your smile.

    –Nancy Posey

  38. Miguel de Matos

    "Walking Home At Night"

    In the night, I feel the darkness
    Creeping up to me. And I want to
    Believe that life is harmony.
    I keep searching all these
    Days for my Melody. Yet so far
    She’s still wandering, so free And
    I, I just want a little more
    time to love, to be. I just want
    the power to be understood by
    I just want to be there for you,
    My friend, my love, my dear! O
    And you will be there for me,
    I hope, O God, O Please!
    I’m in need of a warm caring
    Hug to soothe and to please. Some
    Rhythm in my life, A long
    Path walking, hurting my thighs,
    My legs, my knees – give me
    Some company to take me to my life.

    But still, in the nights, laying
    In my chilly bed with nothing but a blanket
    Over my head: I cry and sob and
    Wait for someone to revel round
    Me and to set me loose from
    My life. I am a prisoner. A
    Lonely man watching over the pier –
    The water still lingers on
    Quiet. How I wait with thirst,
    For the water to put an end
    To this ardent fire who keeps
    Me awake at night yet
    bewilders me every other hour.

    In a final pledge, on
    The tip of the iceberg, on
    The verge of falling into
    That crack, an abyss of which
    I can’t get out of – Be
    Gone for all forever, I just care
    For one more wish, I whisper before
    The blinding fire: let
    Me untangle myself, and let
    Me find my way home. And
    Don’t let me be alone.


This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.