Posts Tagged ‘poetry’

Only Yesterdays

Oh the times we could have had

I’ve lived them all

Mostly by myself.

Sometimes a little too often

Or so I’ve been told.

Yet, they give me comfort.

Simply moving on is never an option

At least for a mother

And more so in times, a father too.

Most times

In my imaginings

You are grown

And it is Christmas time

Our favorite time of year

And the fire is blazing

The tea is poured

Our Christmas tree is lit

And warming our hands by the hearth

We sit in silence

Smiling

Remembering all the days that came before.

Sometimes a chuckle breaks the silence,

“Remember when …”

And a story begins

No doubt, events embellished by the years,

All the while sipping our tea.

Eating our biscuits.

Warming our hands.

And living in moments,

Never lived.

© 2010, Tim (P) Prendeville

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Christmas with Gene Autry and years gone by

Christmas is my favorite time of year … always has been.  When I was a kid, putting up the decorations in our home was my favorite time of year; and every year Gene Autry was on the record player … morning, noon, and night.  There came a time when I moved on from all those things, and didn’t listen to Gene Autry, didn’t decorate trees, and let Christmas come and go in stride.  I hoped the few times back home, over the years, that I could recapture some of the Christmas spirit that was there in my youth, but … it, and everyone, just like me, had moved on.  Not to say that those trips weren’t enjoyable; just not ideal.  There was still the little pin holes in the ceilings from years of hanging streamers, and looking at those always gave me a smile.  It wasn’t until Tara was born in 2002 that Gene Autry made a come back, and when Alyssa arrived in 2004, he was still going strong … indeed, he still is today … I’m on the return leg of my trip through life now, the nostalgia portion … what was in, that went out, is back in again … and long may it live … “Merry Christmas folks … where ever you may be” …

Worth a Christmas Spin …

http://www.youtube.com/view_play_list?p=1D9CBDBEC0D5F983

 

Irishocity

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© 2010, Tim (P) Prendeville

Hindsights and Perceptions

Rain.
Days and days of rain.
Was it ever any other way?
All of those days,
Perpetual darkness and gloom.
Did the sun not ever shine?
It must have.
It must have.
Didn’t it?
I just don’t remember.
I just don’t.
Why is that I wonder?
All those years.
Even when I look back now,
It’s rain I remember
And nothing much else.
But I’m sure there must have been more.
Wasn’t there?

© 2010, Tim (P) Prendeville

Every Now And Again

Every now and again
I look at you,
Captured there in a moment,
Smiling,
Mid sentence,
Mine,
The way I remember you.
And I think of those days
Those days
Those days when we were young,
Those days when all we needed,
And all we had,
Was each other and a dream

Every now and again
I think of late night talks,
And starry island nights
And promises made,
If not to you
At least to me,
And if not believed by you
At least by me,
Only to be dismissed in later days,
Alone,
And seen,
As you did back then,
As romantic notions
Dreamed of
In romantic places.

Every now and again
I look at you,
And wonder,
And pause,
And drift away,
And feel that old familiar feeling.
But all too soon it fades,
Surrendering to another pause,
One that reminds of today,
And yesterdays that are gone,
Put away like your photographs,
And memories
That can only be relived
Briefly.

© 2009, Tim (P) Prendeville

Graveyards

No one runs in a graveyard.
No one shouts.
It is peaceful,
Calming,
Walking amongst those who came before.

Tip toe and listen to the silence,
Whisper the names of those you meet.
For most of those you chance upon,
You are their only visitor,
Save the daily procession of  new arrivals.

Who were all these people?
What lives did they live,
The same as I do now?
Did we share the same fears?
And joys?
And hopes?
And dreams?

Did they live lives fulfilled
Or take regret with them?
If given one more day to live,
What is it do you suppose they would do?
Where would they visit?
Who would they see?
What words of advice would they speak?
I can only imagine it would be magnificent,
Throwing off all the veils of a superficial life,
And living for one more day,
A lesson learned only in death.

© 2009, Tim (P) Prendeville

Night Flight

I saw you last night.
When our eyes met,
You smiled.
It was a gentle smile,
The kind you wore so long ago.
There was no surprise in your smile,
As if our meeting was not by chance.
You sat beside me,
We talked of trivial things,
Our arms touching briefly,
Then lingering.
But nothing more;
But still …

© 2009, Tim (P) Prendeville

Second Chances

How quickly lives can change,
And how those decisions and judgements of the past can come calling.
Some made in haste
Some not
Some made with feeling
Some that were not
Some we stuck with
Some we could not
Some that brought joy
But some that did not.
And for those we must atone

So fragile is our human ego.
We speak brave words to others
Yet to ourselves,
In the quiet times,
And ever so humbly
We question ourselves.
Where is it I am going?
Where is it I have come from?
How will people read my life?
When will it be over?
Maybe tonight?
And if so,
What is it I leave behind?

In the cold and dark of loneliness
In that place you have no hand to hold,
Or a shoulder for leaning,
Where will you turn?
When those decisions made in haste,
Their results now laid out before you
Come calling,
Will you find comfort?
And if offered a second chance,
Where all can be made good again,
Or at least the possibility,
Will you take it?
For some such a leap of faith is beyond their grasp,
But for others,
Not.
Which shall you choose?
I choose change.

© 2009, Tim (P) Prendeville