On You, Across The Table

We all want to believe our children will love us
Hold us, kiss us, stay with us,
and wrap their little hands around our fingers
Big eyes watch big people with big love

But they're a squirmy type
Run away, out of our arms
No matter how far we stretch

Exploring dust bunnies in corners
Carrying shoes to bury in the sand box
They all, will all, run away

And you see then,
Perhaps they are not yours.

Individuals behind those big eyes
And we, again, are left to watch
Like past loves left,
Mother, fathers, gone,
And a thousand friends,
drifted away

We own no one,
Our children owe nothing
And we will all realize how little we are
How alone we are

And in that we must find some happiness
We must find some truth
For them, for us,
For you

Reviews

[Nathan Strange]

Hey man, Charles, I've never read much of your stuff and I'm not gonna blow sunshine up your arse as you are the owner of the website. Let me tell you something pal, this is f*****g good mate. It sums up how I feel at the moment! I'm just sitting in front of my computer screen waiting for the computer to speak to me, waiting for reviews. I'm too tired to review at the moment, I can't think let alone read!
I have a beer in front of me sitting by the keyboard. My forehead is creased up, my eyes black, yet I sit here endlessly, waiting for inspiration to write something. I have this dying urge to want to produce just something, even if it's tedious, yet I know that I'm in no state of mind to write anything half decent.
I saw you were on line and thought, let me read something of Charles's for once. He is responsible for this site. Well man your words spoke to me, that last stanza;

Unable to maintain this moment
This connection
This intimacy
Required to record it
Such is the curse of a writer

[Ailee Way]

Writing, and believing
It's more important than living

oh my god this made me cry and gave me shivers. i don't know why i hadn't read your writing before this. Jeez-- i'm really stunned. i know this feeling, too-- i had a significant person in my life who i used to read and write poetry with, and i lost him becuase i felt i needed to give more of myself to writing. i was so angry at my writing for a while, for demanding so much of me, but i've made amends with it in the meantime... i'm sorry to be so tangential but this poem really evoked a personal response out of me, more than usual. thanks for posting it. and thanks for the site :)

[Blackbird Cry]

The last six lines do touch me so. I can't tell you how many times I've scurried away to scratch out a desperate line or two so that I wouldn't forget. It's a lovely poem here.

[Megan Thornton]

This piece speaks to me right now. I really adore the listing at the end of the second stanza. I'm not sure about the line "Such is the curse of a writer"

[Ellie W. Montreal]

such an inspiration to a mediocre poet like myself.
i admire your work, & i've only read this one. haha.
it leaves something to desire;
something i'd love to read on a daily basis, everyday, coming home from school.
the poem tells me, that he once had a friend;
a certain understanding,
& it sort of faded, so to my assumption, he[the narrator] feels guilt.
oh, & by the way, i'm sorry it took me such a long time to read this. i haven't been focusing on reviews lately, but moreover on putting my work up.

[Edmund Jonah]

How did this get here? I see you have done beautiful things to the site but I have to relearn everything!

[Edmund Jonah]

Hi Charles - It's very difficult for me to review poetry - especially modern stuff. I know what I like and what I don't like, but what I like may not be good and what I don't like may be excellent stuff! That which I'm not sure of may have been written by the poet laureate. So please don't place much weight on my comments. In this piece, I like the idea of you and your partner writing together in the night and that writing is more like a curse than a way of life. Surely you meant "Who wiles away days" (and not wills). I have to confess I did not understand why the line "I don't read with you anymore I'm afraid" is in there and what you are trying to convey with it. Nor do I fully understand the first verse which seems to contradict the line and seems to be out of sync with the rest of the poem. I'd be interested to know what you were trying to say. By the way, my short story, "Mrs. Jacobson's Niece" is due to surface on the Jimston Journal next month.

[Callisto]

its more important than breathing....writing, that is. the last stanza really stood out for me. this whole thing is melancholy mixed with magic mixed with the feeling of addiction-to writing. i really truly love this piece. well done my friend.

[V. Lucien Maier]

Writing, and believing
It's more important than living
is a great line! I love the flow of the entire piece. You have brought one of the many plights a real author faces, to words with great clarity. Thanks

[Hold Fast Hope]

Wow is all that is coming out of my mouth right now.

I love how it seems that this is someone who is loving and sweet, but in the end turns away his caring persona and love because he is too wrapped up in his writing and trying to get something out, but nothing is coming out so he gets even more entwined to his work.

[Britt Harris]

Wow, I love this piece... the imagery throughout was awesome, but the entire last paragraph was what really got to me; the way you describe the life of a writer... trying desperately to hang on to something one cannot grasp, and then

"believing
It's more important than living"

Simply excellent.