If you were a poem

[Pendragon]

If I were a poem,
How would I describe the horrors
A parent goes through as you come into town
And past by an automobile accident—
Fire trucks, and police cars, with ambulance in route—
And realize that the young man smoking the cigarette
Nervously talking to the Police Sergeant
Happens to be your own son…

If I were a poem,
Could I make you understand
How we whipped off the road and dashed back to the scene.
Hearts in our throats as we passed by the smashed car,
On to his truck with the radiator crushed in.
How I gave him a hug and went to check on the young lady,
My cousin already there from the rescue squad giving first aid,
She had no reproaches to give, but I could tell she was hurting,
Been there myself back a decade or so.

Would the poem let you know,
How it feels as a father—
To know that your son had no choice in the deal.
A truck cut her off, and she had to stop suddenly in traffic,
He’d checked his mirror and looked back—
One second in time to react was not enough.
Who gets the blame for this terrible tragedy?
We were told it was a toss up at the scene of it all.
But he was the youngest and had already had one wreck—
So when the evening was over, they blamed him for it all.

If I were a poem,
Could I tell you how much that I think it unfair,
That the man who cut off the traffic walks without anything?
How I feel for the poor girl who was injured and did nothing wrong,
And my son—who had gone to work on his day off, else he wouldn’t have been there—
Because of a ticket, gets stuck with paying for everyone’s damages,
Because witness changed their stories after I left,
And said the cutoff gave a signal,
And she stopped to let him out…
Not her…
So called witnesses…

[ahsiam]

I must regret that I arrived here so late,really.so many good poems here to take your breath away.

pen,your poem brought tears to my eyes.I just don't know how else to put my feeling.

ahsiam,yours was a good one too.not only the last two lines were really touchy,as I told you before,but also the others lines.they were very stirring.not exaggerating.

here goes mine-

If I were a poem

If I were a poem,
I would never want you to read me,
for it would grizzle you bit by bit,
choke you to obmutescent blues.

I wouldn't want you to read me-
a poem full of rotten grief and grievances,
the words groaning and cursing,
unable to hold the grim obelisks of melancholy any more,
they beg for mercy.

Only if I were a poem
I would lead you to a cold blue sea,
waves petrified in eternal awe and agony of solitude,
where in the dunes the quicksand awaits you
hidden and silent...

If I were a poem
I would never want you to read me,
for another phoenix could blossom out of the fading lines
and fly you to the sun.

But
if you were looking for a poem
on which you could shed some dewy sympathy,
fated to melt to the sky of oblivion,
then I might be the poem for you.
A dark piteous poem unable ever to lift any heart.

wonderful !!!!.............. and i really dont have anything to say.
i am so proud that symph and you are my friend.
and by the way symph its nice that you disclosed her name but dont try to irritate me. or i am going to...................

[ahsiam]

If I were a poem,
How would I describe the horrors
A parent goes through as you come into town
And past by an automobile accident—
Fire trucks, and police cars, with ambulance in route—
And realize that the young man smoking the cigarette
Nervously talking to the Police Sergeant
Happens to be your own son…

If I were a poem,
Could I make you understand
How we whipped off the road and dashed back to the scene.
Hearts in our throats as we passed by the smashed car,
On to his truck with the radiator crushed in.
How I gave him a hug and went to check on the young lady,
My cousin already there from the rescue squad giving first aid,
She had no reproaches to give, but I could tell she was hurting,
Been there myself back a decade or so.

Would the poem let you know,
How it feels as a father—
To know that your son had no choice in the deal.
A truck cut her off, and she had to stop suddenly in traffic,
He’d checked his mirror and looked back—
One second in time to react was not enough.
Who gets the blame for this terrible tragedy?
We were told it was a toss up at the scene of it all.
But he was the youngest and had already had one wreck—
So when the evening was over, they blamed him for it all.

If I were a poem,
Could I tell you how much that I think it unfair,
That the man who cut off the traffic walks without anything?
How I feel for the poor girl who was injured and did nothing wrong,
And my son—who had gone to work on his day off, else he wouldn’t have been there—
Because of a ticket, gets stuck with paying for everyone’s damages,
Because witness changed their stories after I left,
And said the cutoff gave a signal,
And she stopped to let him out…
Not her…
So called witnesses…

wow!!!!
the picture is so vivid that i felt i was there.and infact i felt i was the father or someone very close.
you go uncle pen!!

[Pendragon]

I don't think I could write poetry like I do were I not surrounded by such a slew of talent. Everyone poem written on this thread is inspiring, for it draws from the emotions of the poet in situations we all can relate to. I honestly think this thread has produced some of the best poems by my fellow LitNet writers that I have ever read.

If this thread were a book of poetry,
it should not be ashamed to stand on the shelf among classics,
for it contains condensed moments of memories
as dear as any contained in those volumes
revered for long time as masterpieces...

Pendragon

[mazHur]

a great tribute to all at litnet by Pen.

Long Live Pen and all !


If you were a poem,
the realm of my heart,
would rebound with its words
like sweet kisses pouring
unto my lips from a rosy
embodiment of love
I will recite it day and night
and make my moments shine
with the bliss of its eternal
light and warmth
of feelings expressed
and conveyed to my famined
soul searching for life,
you being my poet and my poem
an me your object and heading
love, and love alone
from head to toe!

[symphony]

wonderful !!!!.............. and i really dont have anything to say.
i am so proud that symph and you are my friend.
and by the way symph its nice that you disclosed her name but dont try to irritate me. or i am going to...................

but i looooove irritating people

[symphony]

If this thread were a book of poetry,
it should not be ashamed to stand on the shelf among classics,
for it contains condensed moments of memories
as dear as any contained in those volumes
revered for long time as masterpieces...

Pendragon

Ah, there there!

[AdoreroDio]

Are we supposed to write a poem "If I were a Poem", or post another poets work that we would be if we were a poem? I'm confused.......

[AdoreroDio]

Well if it's another's work then here is the poem I would be-

The Soul's Expression

With stammering lips and insufficient sound
I strive and struggle to deliver right
That music of my nature, day and night
With dream and thought and feeling interwound
And inly answering all the senses round
With octaves of a mystic depth and height
Which step out grandly to the infinite
From the dark edges of the sensual ground.
This song of soul I struggle to outbear
Through portals of the sense, sublime and whole,
And utter all myself into the air:
But if I did it,--as the thunder-roll
Breaks its own cloud, my flesh would perish there,
Before that dread apocalypse of soul.

by :Elizabeth Barrett Browning

[symphony]

Are we supposed to write a poem "If I were a Poem", or post another poets work that we would be if we were a poem? I'm confused.......

It doesnt really matter. If there's a poem thats perfect for u, u can post that. Or u can write ur own if u think there's no poem that can exemplify the real u.

[Pendragon]

If—

If I could live inside of my poems
I know the perfect spot that I would choose.
There is a trail out there that winds from South to North,
Thousands follow it every year,
Few know it the way I do.
I would wend my way across the highlands,
Know which trees produce fruit in which season,
Never fear the animals that lurk in the shadows
For we have an understanding.
I can make a shelter in any sort of weather,
Build a fire when others are freezing,
I could live off of the land if I had to
You’d be surprised by what is well worth eating.
Never come into the towns at all,
Just stay out on the trail and make it home:
So if you hike along the AT.
From Georgia up to Maine,
And on some gentle evening Zephyr
Comes the smell of a campfire
And the soft music of a guitar
Somebody singing “Amazing Grace.”
I just might be there somewhere—
If I were a poem…

Pendragon
© 11/5/07

[gothic]

Everyone poem written on this thread is inspiring, for it draws from the emotions of the poet in situations we all can relate to. I honestly think this thread has produced some of the best poems by my fellow LitNet writers that I have ever read.

If this thread were a book of poetry,
it should not be ashamed to stand on the shelf among classics,
for it contains condensed moments of memories
as dear as any contained in those volumes
revered for long time as masterpieces...

Pendragon

I agree with you,uncle pen.this thread is already so rich with so many fabulous poems that it could top all others almost effortlessly. I think the title does the magic,as Sym mentioned to me earlier.

[gothic]

wonderful !!!!.............. and i really dont have anything to say.

oh,what would I do without you guys! you all are so inspiring!

[Pendragon]

If I Were If I Am a Poem

If I were a poem I’d be Gothic in style,
Draped in mold and spider webs and dust.
Black would be my banner and clothing as well,
From Victorian ages or perhaps even older.
My home would be haunted by various wraiths,
And creatures not easily understood nor explained.
It would probably stand all alone on a fog shrouded moor,
In a deep, dark woodland, or some massive cliff o’re the sea.

If I were a poem, you would notice the smell,
Must from ages long past and things best left forgotten.
You would notice the concert of groans and creaking sounds,
And the footsteps that follow, when no one is ever seen.
You would catch the slinking of shadow from the corners of your eyes,
And never be able to feel completely alone.
You might start avoiding the daylight, more comfortable with
The baleful eye of a golden harvest moon…

If I were a poem, I would be the old little bloke in the odd little flat,
That mother’s warn children to always steer clear.
In my outdated fashions and my preference for antique possessions,
And the fact that I can live in a home that is somewhat ordered chaos.
The thick heavy curtains shut out the light of the day,
And only in my own private library is there any sort of bright lights.
My books spill out of their shelves and have formed pylons on the floors,
Ah, but I know where each one is, and can find each in a trice.

Said I looked like a Rat catcher from two centuries ago, daft auld fool!
Wanted to cite me for being a general nuisance and a firetrap! Devil take ‘im!
There’s a book here somewhere I must find now, and then the deed is done!
Where’d I put that copy of The Necronomicon, anyways?

Pendragon
© 11/20/07

[kiz_paws]

This poem was sent to me by my brother, and I know NOT the author. It is cute and very, well, Canadian, and thus, me Here goes --

It's winter in Canada
And the gentle breezes blow
Seventy miles an hour
At twenty-nine below.

Oh, how I love Canada
When the snow's up to your butt
You take a breath of winter
And you nose gets frozen shut.

Yes, the weather here is wonderful
So I guess I'll hang around
I could never leave Canada



'Cause I'm frozen to the ground!!

[Again, I am NOT the author of this poem.]