© Copyright Robert R. Reldan 2001 All rights reserved
If these poems
speak to you in any way,
Robert encourages you to write directly to him at the above address.
All correspondence will be answered.
WHAT SOME BIRDS DID IN SEPTEMBERTiny sparrows, flew from their roosts
and trees, in terror
as the thunder of large silver birds
striking sleek, silver towers
shattered their peace
on a September morning
Today,
when the smoke cleared
and the noise calmed
the sparrows, in their innocence, and trust
returned
For some of us, our innocence
is forever clouded in that smoke,
our faith, shattered by that thunder,
and our tiny wings
can barely carry us
to tomorrow
WORLD "TRADE" CENTERThis morning, there was dew
on the grass
The sun rose, and the dew evaporated
into the heavens...it will return tomorrow
This morning, there were people
at work
Two planes impacted, and those lives evaporated
into the heavens. . .they will not return tomorrow
This morning, we traded lives
for madness...
what will we trade, tomorrow?
THE ONE THAT SHOULD'A GOT AWAY
When I was small
I went fishing with my father
The sun was warm and
the sky was bright blueIt was a memorable day
We made a bet
and I caught "the big one"
My father ranted
for the rest of the trip
as the sky turned gray
and the sun lost it's warmth
I learned a lot about fishing...
and other things
It was a memorable day
and I wish "the big one"
would'a got away
LOST, BUT FOUND
Black night -- quiet time
memory tiptoes through dusty corridors
of the mind...
not knowing what it s looking for
but knowing it will recognize it
if found.
There's a first bike --
gathering rust, with tires flat
There's an early birthday --
look at all the balloons --
There s a schoolday. . . a dance ...
a graduation...
There are so many things, memory
doesn't know which way to look --
more desperate in its search, it hurries on
down this path, up this lane,
through this aisle...
dust and ashesWeary, and ready to rest, one
last door
is opened----------and there
you
are
No need to go further...
There no more treasures
to be found.
ELEGY FOR A BEAR KILLER
I am a killer of bears...
I seek them out for destruction
When found, I shall twist their
button eyes
and rend their batten
stuffed bodies
I will rip each tiny limb
I gave you a "Teddy"...for luck...
the day you f1ew
He had only one mission,
but he didn't bring you home
to me
I shall never be punished
for my mayhem
or spend one day in jail,
but my soul
is imprisoned in sorrow,
forever...
because of one bear's betrayal
TALK IS CHEAP: UNDERSTANDING IS EXPENSIVE
On Monday
English and Germans; French and Italians;
Russians and Poles; Americans and Mexicans
. . . all the world . . .
a regular dialogue of Babel --No one understood anyone
On Tuesday,
everyone understood "World Trade Center"
because,
when words fail,
we all cry
in the same language
THE AIR GIVETH, AND THE AIR TAKETH . . .
You were taken on the air . . .
All that remains, are two-dimensional
or ephemeral
- paper pictures - and your scent
It lingers on your pillow . . .I've put it in a plastic bag
to preserve it
I don't know how long it will last
but, late at night
when my soul is torn,
and I don't want to see
the dawn
I open the bagLike rubbing a magic lamp,
your esscence emerges . . . fills the room
and wraps around me
like your arms used to doI am held by it,
in love again
. . . yet terrified . . . wondering
what I will do
when your scent is finally
dissipated by the winds
and your pillow
is just something for me to scream into?
THINGS I'VE SEEN WIND DO
I've seen it lift the plane
that took you awayI've seen it blow
scarlet petals from a blooming roseI've never seen it
blow them backMy heart is an open bruise . . .
Dare I ever choose another rose?
SEPTEMBER 11, 2001 (9/11)
"Hora por hora no es el dia,
es dolor por dolor"
("The day is not hour by hour
but pain by pain.")
-- Pablo Neruda
When I awoke at dawn
the sun shone,
and I left my home for the day
This morning,
p1anes were smashed
and lives were shattered
When I returned this evening
there was. darkness,
and my home was only a house