After I asked you where you would like to go,
there was some kind of confusion I’m afraid,
which had everything to do with your answer,
the description of that place.
I am so sorry for my funny behaviour,
more to the fact: that I slapped you in the face
but I didn’t realize that “down under”
is a geographic phrase.
Apart we stand as thrown away from love,
alone and tired, waiting for a ring
but no, the phone is dead and I won’t sleep
as well as when your breathing follows mine.
Apart we live our lives through thick and thin,
for what it’s worth, I never loved again,
I miss your presence, your reclining chair.
No I don’t care that you don’t ring no more.
We lie our lives pretending all is well
but nothing is, we stand as thrown away,
apart we are alone, and tired we move on.
I shall not phone you but I miss your voice.
Now walking is an issue more than norm,
as rotting knees prevent my daily round,
no excercise can keep me well and sound,
my body lost its shape, is losing form.
I’m wrecked in ice and sea before a storm,
my hope is gone to get to safer ground,
and godforsaken I shall die, unfound;
how can I feel not bad but good and warm?
You say a new knee might just do the trick,
I must admit this sounds as if good sense,
the specialist will help, my hope returns.
Maybe one day I’ll lose that wretched stick.
Although I think his skills must be immense
to make me whole – I shall not have concerns.
When you spoke
about your sincerest love
for my furry feline,
how was I to know
that you really meant
that lazy cat of mine?
A poem of mine is participating in the Best New Poems contest.
My poem on Best New Poems Please visit and tell them what you think ! Thank you!
the waves tell me stories
about far away places
while my footprints are fading
while my life comes at end
the waves will keep moving
taking my story
to far away places
in endless whisper
for those who can hear
11 January 2014 Terschelling North Sea beach
Diane M Denton wrote this wonderful story with the history of her own family in mind, and the result is beautiful, a young girl’s discovery of literature intertwined with the problems of her family (they move a lot) and the friendship with her neighbours, two sisters.
As always, Diane manages to build up a certain suspense in her story that makes you want to know more about these characters, these lives which she touches only by fingertips, revealing just as much as needed for the story. Like in her historical novel “A House in Luccoli”, she catches the atmosphere
in her descriptions of earlier days so well. “The library next door” leaves you with a smile and an urge to read more about these people, their fascination with books and music, and what happened next…
More about Diane’s short stories
In the universe of our imagination
the past was always the beginning of the future
and there is no dwelling in the moment that we live.
If we could live anywhere else
but in the moment,
the future sounds fine to me.
If we only live for the now,
our future is hopeless.
Next generations don’t need our garbage.
I refuse to live in the moment :)