Poetry - A - NICHOLAS EMEIGH

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A

4 A.M. In Beantown

find the boxcar diner
chocolate chip pancakes
just who do we think we are?
18 and up at 4am.

staring from a dark room
faces lit by neon light
watching steamy flowers bloom
from sewers down below.

careful when we walk back
not to catch a cold
or stumble onto trouble
at 4am in beantown.

About The Way You Look In This Photo
(♫ Reading Available)

This glow is coming from you in the photo
I'm scared it means you might be dying soon
To see you standing there in deep green meadows
The sun allowed no glowing of the moon
You're glowing like you'll be an angel soon

I'd like to be there when God comes to take you
To make sure pain and suffering are gone
When Time, it comes to tell you what this life was
When life goes running from you to the dawn
When angels all embrace you and you're gone

I'll wrap you oh, so gently in your quilt
And cry for selfish reasons for awhile
And think that you would never want this for me
You always loved to see me with a smile
You say, "I'll see you in a little while."

Airborne

Getting where I'm going seems like struggle,
maybe it really is, but what I learn
in looking back is that I glean and juggle
those things I want, and those for which I yearn;
boiling these pots and not letting one burn.

People always seem to ice my runway
prompting me to slip and slide and crash
just as earth and my feet begin to splay,
they hurl at me bullshit and balderdash,
despite it I take off with much panache.

My flight is meditation in the air
a never-ending journey, I'm reborn
far from money and its green despair,
far from people, safe from shame and scorn
tethers torn now I am free, airborne.

All About Me
(♫ Reading Available)

Twenty bucks will buy my ass right back into the game
Ride my luck for all it’s worth while someone pays the tab
My sponsor stands behind me and I don’t quite know his name
I stumble out and pass out in the back seat of a cab

The next day when I wake I feel I’m much worse than before
The night is gone, the fun has fled, and I must find some more
I make my way up to my feet and curse the sinking floor
I phone a friend, my day begins, and I am out the door

I wonder as I walk along the street ... about myself
I get this man, as best I can, through days as hard as long
Another layer of dust upon a long undusted shelf
I would like to sing along, but I don’t know this song

Amazing Motherhood

I measure my celebration and love
of your life by the depth
and length of my grieving,
each tear is a memory,
each skipped heartbeat
is a cherished life lesson,
each night sweat is the thought
of my life having been led
without you, and I thank
whomever is responsible
for this life
that you existed,
that you are as you were
in me.

So if the rose celebrates
by wilting,
and if the sky celebrates
by way of rain,
and if the human celebrates
by dying,
I celebrate your life,
as your son,
by living.

An Ant's Heartbeat

Little buddy's gonna die soon:
count the steps to death
or to your next piece of food,
centuries for us, minutes for you,
so i'll watch my step
because it's all relative.

Angry, Angrier, Angriest

What do you do with anger in your heart?
Such anger that it tears you all apart,
This anger aimed at any, everyone
impairs my focus, blinds me like the sun.

I can not write or think about its source
Because it morphs from anger to remorse;
This anger is so powerful and rare,
It serves no other purpose but to scare.

How do I rid myself of all this hate
Without feeling justified, irate?
I can not cry, I can not scream for fear
that gossips, judges in earshot will hear.

I have nothing to say, so I will growl;
Passers by are treated to my scowl,
and God forbid they greet me with "Good day,"
my lashing tongue will send them on their way.

Angry, angrier, and angriest,
Anger is a rage that can't be missed;
It can not be denied or misconstrued:
A raging bull usurps your attitude.

This anger does no good, instead impairs,
and can not be disguised in other cares;
It sticks out like the sorest of all thumbs,
And though it's hot, it does not burn, it numbs.

Antiquated

sober is better
or so they all say
my optimism
with weather, will sway
one day I am cured
the next in dismay
all I can do now
is wish you away
feelings may go
why do people stay
always remembering
things that i say
what i said last night
is not true today

The Art of Coasting

Suffering this consequence
is far too much to bear
I'm counting down by cigarettes
the time before despair

It's as if I find my misery
a comfort like a friend
as friends and lovers drift right by
unable to see an end

And so I'm coasting by my sanity
and waving goodbye to the air
When I return I hope to find
my morals waiting there

As a person finding balance
as a means to a certain end
I find that coasting provides some comfort
while waiting for my life to mend

See, all of this is necessary
a journey inward, some say holy
all of us are meant to spend
some time in purgatory

Autumn Leaves
(♫ Reading Available)

Beautiful bursts of death on trees:
Leaves' magnum opus in the fall.
They're ripped from anchors by the breeze
Concluding simple summer life.
They hum short songs about short stints
As bold protectors from the sun
And slowly give us subtle hints
Of cold, gray winter days to come.
Replaced without apology
By birds and buds and boring green
When spring arrives with summer's needs
As we forget these autumn leaves.

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Home » Writing Portfolio » Entire Collection » A B C D -E F-G H-J K-M N-O P-Q R S T U V-Z » Greatest Hits