His cologne, her perfume
His aftershave, her bobby pins
Together with suitcases they leave
To find silence, peace
All without me.
Can't stop looking for him
A silent voice tells me
To close my eyes
And he'll be there
Somewhere a corridor
Becomes a moving mountain
I'm afraid he's moving
Without
Me
Part Three And The Ending
At midnight the good doctor went into the room, closing the door behind him. Coming back out he grimly laid a hand on Red's shoulder. "Why don't you go to the hotel, or get a room over the restaurant? Get some sleep. You don't help matters by sitting here. I'm going to bed myself."
About two that morning a late reveler whooped through town with a clatter of hooves and a few shots offered to the stars. The noise wakened the doc, so he made an unscheduled round. Red was still sitting where he had left him, but was asleep. The doc threw a blanket over him muttering under his breath.
At daylight the doctor tap
(Cont.)
Race toyed aimlessly with his cards, laying them out, recovering them, turning them over, clumsily laying them out again. "But you've treated Iris well, and I have to give you credit. You have built up that broken-down spread you bought until you have over five hundred head of cattle on it. In nine years. Iris told me."
The waitress refilled their coffee cups. "You have been a good man for her, Red." Race took a long swallow of his coffee. "I appreciate what you have done for her, so I'm giving you a chance to more than double your holdings. A gambler's chance."
Red listened without comment. Only his eyes betrayed his curiou
Race measured the hostility in the shaded eyes across the restaurant table and wondered if the big, bearded man would take the bait. Carelessly he shuffled the cards , then shuffled them again. He tried to make the riffle of the deck look amateurish, but it was difficult to hide the skill he had gained in twenty-one years of making a living from such a deck of fifty-two, on ships, in camps, sometimes in homes, anywhere there was space available and some loose change waiting to be sacrificed.
Red Yancey looked around uneasily and started to rise. "I don't trust you, Race."
Race caught his sleeve. "Wait, Red, I have a proposition for you,
My Father's Last Poem The Night Before He Died by Paddockwood, literature
Literature
My Father's Last Poem The Night Before He Died
My Father's Last Poem
My mother held my sobbing father one night
He begged her not to put him into a nursing home.
He wanted to die in the home he built himself for her.
It's the least she could have done.
He had been taken via ambulance without him even knowing where they were taking him. He must have been so frightened, this kindest man on the face of the earth.
Images burn, I swear they burn starting in the brain,
from there going wild into the deepest darkest part of your soul.
I see my father in the nursing home making a gallant attempt to spoon the liquid broth
they called soup into his mouth.
Off to the side is a mushy bowl of fruit
I wish that I did not have to speak.
Words could pour out upon the floor
in endless streams and sit
and stagger in stench,
a moldy stench that cannot speak.
I wish to be silent like the night,
with eyes and ears
that see and hear and smell.
Glowing stars, silent streams,
the Heavenly sound of beast and bog
as they sit in dark mud
and croak and crawl through swampy slime.
They watch the dewy drops by night
that catch the glow
of lady's velvet lamps
and drop on tiny pools of pebbles
and flow beneath the small rotting bridges
where lay children's wooden wagons.
I would walk the wet paths
of stone houses and smell the night air.
Clean wet cl
Demon faces
bright and expectant
looking in
eagerly waiting
for the resident of the house
to let them in
They press first where it has yielded
to them before, the organ that breathes
or better yet
he's watching for cracks,
carefully examining
among the shadows of an x-ray lung
hes hungry to chomp down with razor-like teeth
the twisted cells that took up resident without invitatation
But it is sealed up
tight with no entry
They stand around the edge in darkness
gnashing their teeth
For a vigilant who wants to live is at home
praying past hours
reading by lamplight
sword and shield
close within reach
His is a weapon ready for battle
and
Shine On My Love, My Shining Star
Send forth words to cling to
Send forth the galaxy that you rule
I just can't see what's in front of me.
How do I lose these lonesome heartaches
What would brighten my pathway a while
3,000 East, 3,000 West and nothing in between.
May we never forget our sweet words
we exchanged, our vows, sacred vows.
Force me to tell you I'm in love with you
then whisper back that you love me too.
I've never seen you,
but I would know when to pull you closer.
I would know nothing except that I would have to give it a try.
If all of my memories come true
I will hold you someday in my arms.
Heaven, my dreams couldn't be
All Alone In My Anguish by Paddockwood, literature
Literature
All Alone In My Anguish
All Alone In My Anguish
The audience turns away
the curtain falls
but I remain on stage
alone
For even those who spoke their parts with me
have folded their scripts,
and joined the ranks as well
taking my cues with them
and all hope of applause.
It began as a great work they say
and now it is nothing
They shake their heads
and clipping tongues fill the air
already thick with accusations
A solid wall of judgement they make
all marching in unison.
I try to run after them
but slip
in the thickness of the blood,
my own blood
pooled around me
from wounds that will not be stopped up.
But still they turn
And still they won't move away.
For t
After A While
After a while you learn
the subtle difference between
holding a hand
and chaining a soul
and you learn that love
doesn't mean leaning
and company doesn't always
mean security.
And you begin to learn
that kisses aren't contracts
and presents aren't promises
and you begin to accept your defeats
with your head up and your eyes ahead
with the grace of a woman
not the grief of a child
and you learn
to build your roads on today
because tomorrows ground is
too uncertain for plans
and futures have a way of
falling down in mid-flight.
After a while you learn
that even sunshine burns if you get too much
so you plant your own garden
and
His cologne, her perfume
His aftershave, her bobby pins
Together with suitcases they leave
To find silence, peace
All without me.
Can't stop looking for him
A silent voice tells me
To close my eyes
And he'll be there
Somewhere a corridor
Becomes a moving mountain
I'm afraid he's moving
Without
Me
Part Three And The Ending
At midnight the good doctor went into the room, closing the door behind him. Coming back out he grimly laid a hand on Red's shoulder. "Why don't you go to the hotel, or get a room over the restaurant? Get some sleep. You don't help matters by sitting here. I'm going to bed myself."
About two that morning a late reveler whooped through town with a clatter of hooves and a few shots offered to the stars. The noise wakened the doc, so he made an unscheduled round. Red was still sitting where he had left him, but was asleep. The doc threw a blanket over him muttering under his breath.
At daylight the doctor tap
(Cont.)
Race toyed aimlessly with his cards, laying them out, recovering them, turning them over, clumsily laying them out again. "But you've treated Iris well, and I have to give you credit. You have built up that broken-down spread you bought until you have over five hundred head of cattle on it. In nine years. Iris told me."
The waitress refilled their coffee cups. "You have been a good man for her, Red." Race took a long swallow of his coffee. "I appreciate what you have done for her, so I'm giving you a chance to more than double your holdings. A gambler's chance."
Red listened without comment. Only his eyes betrayed his curiou
Race measured the hostility in the shaded eyes across the restaurant table and wondered if the big, bearded man would take the bait. Carelessly he shuffled the cards , then shuffled them again. He tried to make the riffle of the deck look amateurish, but it was difficult to hide the skill he had gained in twenty-one years of making a living from such a deck of fifty-two, on ships, in camps, sometimes in homes, anywhere there was space available and some loose change waiting to be sacrificed.
Red Yancey looked around uneasily and started to rise. "I don't trust you, Race."
Race caught his sleeve. "Wait, Red, I have a proposition for you,
My Father's Last Poem The Night Before He Died by Paddockwood, literature
Literature
My Father's Last Poem The Night Before He Died
My Father's Last Poem
My mother held my sobbing father one night
He begged her not to put him into a nursing home.
He wanted to die in the home he built himself for her.
It's the least she could have done.
He had been taken via ambulance without him even knowing where they were taking him. He must have been so frightened, this kindest man on the face of the earth.
Images burn, I swear they burn starting in the brain,
from there going wild into the deepest darkest part of your soul.
I see my father in the nursing home making a gallant attempt to spoon the liquid broth
they called soup into his mouth.
Off to the side is a mushy bowl of fruit
I wish that I did not have to speak.
Words could pour out upon the floor
in endless streams and sit
and stagger in stench,
a moldy stench that cannot speak.
I wish to be silent like the night,
with eyes and ears
that see and hear and smell.
Glowing stars, silent streams,
the Heavenly sound of beast and bog
as they sit in dark mud
and croak and crawl through swampy slime.
They watch the dewy drops by night
that catch the glow
of lady's velvet lamps
and drop on tiny pools of pebbles
and flow beneath the small rotting bridges
where lay children's wooden wagons.
I would walk the wet paths
of stone houses and smell the night air.
Clean wet cl
Demon faces
bright and expectant
looking in
eagerly waiting
for the resident of the house
to let them in
They press first where it has yielded
to them before, the organ that breathes
or better yet
he's watching for cracks,
carefully examining
among the shadows of an x-ray lung
hes hungry to chomp down with razor-like teeth
the twisted cells that took up resident without invitatation
But it is sealed up
tight with no entry
They stand around the edge in darkness
gnashing their teeth
For a vigilant who wants to live is at home
praying past hours
reading by lamplight
sword and shield
close within reach
His is a weapon ready for battle
and
Shine On My Love, My Shining Star
Send forth words to cling to
Send forth the galaxy that you rule
I just can't see what's in front of me.
How do I lose these lonesome heartaches
What would brighten my pathway a while
3,000 East, 3,000 West and nothing in between.
May we never forget our sweet words
we exchanged, our vows, sacred vows.
Force me to tell you I'm in love with you
then whisper back that you love me too.
I've never seen you,
but I would know when to pull you closer.
I would know nothing except that I would have to give it a try.
If all of my memories come true
I will hold you someday in my arms.
Heaven, my dreams couldn't be
All Alone In My Anguish by Paddockwood, literature
Literature
All Alone In My Anguish
All Alone In My Anguish
The audience turns away
the curtain falls
but I remain on stage
alone
For even those who spoke their parts with me
have folded their scripts,
and joined the ranks as well
taking my cues with them
and all hope of applause.
It began as a great work they say
and now it is nothing
They shake their heads
and clipping tongues fill the air
already thick with accusations
A solid wall of judgement they make
all marching in unison.
I try to run after them
but slip
in the thickness of the blood,
my own blood
pooled around me
from wounds that will not be stopped up.
But still they turn
And still they won't move away.
For t
After A While
After a while you learn
the subtle difference between
holding a hand
and chaining a soul
and you learn that love
doesn't mean leaning
and company doesn't always
mean security.
And you begin to learn
that kisses aren't contracts
and presents aren't promises
and you begin to accept your defeats
with your head up and your eyes ahead
with the grace of a woman
not the grief of a child
and you learn
to build your roads on today
because tomorrows ground is
too uncertain for plans
and futures have a way of
falling down in mid-flight.
After a while you learn
that even sunshine burns if you get too much
so you plant your own garden
and