Author: Alex Yaremchuk
Poetry
The watcher
I sit watching with a lifeless gaze I see only the thoughts that grip my mind all an effect of words said.
Not the words spoken out loud but the words stringed into answered questions. Questions I have yet to ask and will never ask.
I see visions of what if's and what will, I see images depicting years of the most likely outcome influence by years of observation. i see them fall in place like falling leafs from a tree. A tree whos roots grew from insecurities of being nothing more then a seed.
I see not love stories nor happy ever afters but that timeless story life has forever told, the story of Truth.
I see a play of the willful becoming those who lack the will.
I see the stage set with actors holding back their desires fighting their inhibitions till the clock ticks hitting that split-second.
STOP!
Release the lights!
QUIT THE ACT,
Let the water run and split the bar on the gate ...
The Train yard
On somber winds,
Flow's a distant moan.
The train yard rumbles,
And the engines grown.
I hear the workers call.
A Voice bellowed tone.
The words crisp.
Rings All aboard.
Steel clash!
Rails creak!
A symphony strong!
The engines reap!
The trains depart.
Follow winds decree.
The time has come.
For me to drift to sleep.
Echos of a melody
A simple boy who chased true love.
Greeting all who passed me by, with a courteous smile or hello, goodbye.
I think of those who have come my way, the ones for a time who chose to stay.
I'm reminded how my heart would beat, then echo its silence, when they flee.
A lonely melody in the space between
I now wonder who I would have been, if that first beat I did not give.
Would I still be a simple man,
Or remain this shell for a hollow sound?