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Can't You hear the Wind Chimes Dancing?
Bamboo Wind Chime
A POEM about LOVE LOST and a WINDCHIME
As a preface, I love to write stories on interesting and sometimes off the wall subjects.
And occasionally, I will attempt writing a bit of Poetry, usually freeform.
So, a part of this little Poem started growing in my mind several years ago. I started out with a hundred words or so and then I just filed it away as a future project.
Then, a few weeks ago, I was sitting on my screened in back porch, with my iPad on the table beside me, when a strong wind came up, and one of my Wind Chimes started banging away at itself.
I was working on a story line and for some reason this Wind Chime was really irritating me.
One thing led to another, and I grabbed my iPad and started writing about how I felt at the moment
And the next day when I was going over what I had written, I remembered that other partial work.
Well, I managed to fold the two unfinished works together into what you see here.
I hope you like it!
Can't You Hear the Wind Chimes Dancing?
They're driving me insane with their Clanging! Their Clicking!
Their incessant Banging!
Those damned Wind Chimes that she left here after she moved out of the house and out of my life.
Left here? Just to taunt me, I'm sure!.
For three days and long nights I have been sitting here,
in this dark and empty house,
In this Kitchen,
with its warped and ancient window,
opened to the creaky and dilapidated
screened back porch,
And then there's me,
with just the wind as my bane!
It's Hot in here,
so damned Sticky and Hot!
Hell it gave up hours ago,
and now it's covered
in overlapping layers
of dark sweat stains.
Stains rimmed with white edges
from the dried salt
that my body has given up.
With each Beer that I open,
I get a few minutes of cooling relief
and then it starts all over again.
The Sweat spouts from every pore,
to cool my body and to chill
my burning heart's pain,
Both battles are so sadly lost
before the first blow lands!
Another light ..... Hot ..... Wet ...... Breeze,
Sneaks through the limp tree leaves,
Irritating their nights rest.
A breeze whose mundane gusts,
Are just enough to agitate
Those damned wind chimes,
Their sounds are like random daggers
thrust into my heart.
Each sound reminds me
Mocking my foolish pride,
and deserved loneliness.
I know what's real and
I know what's true.
I let her leave, you see.
I stood there stubbornly,
as she offered me one more chance,
to keep her,
to hold her,
to love her.
But, I laughed,
and I waved her on,
a false smile hanging stiff on my lips.
My pride kept me frozen there,
on the porch,
in the afternoon Sun,
As she looked at me one more time,
with tears sliding down her smooth cheeks ..... a Sigh!
Then one more look,
a slight shrug,
a rising of red determination
on those same tear stained cheeks,
then, abruptly, she turned,
and stomped over to that old Pickup truck of hers.
The door opened, creaking, as she jumped in,
and after a minute of grinding,
that old truck fired up
with a belch of gray smoke from it's tailpipe.
She glanced over at me one more time,
but this time with a thin lip-less grimace on her face.
Then she tugged that stained old cowboy hat
down firmly on her head,
and threw that old truck into gear.
Then, with gears scraping and tires spinning,
she roared out of the parking space beside the house,
followed by a noxious trail
of sand from the tires
and smoke from the exhaust.
I just stood there, frozen,
and if she had looked,
just one more time,
she would have seen the first of my tears,
creeping, unwanted, through my lids.
But, I just said "Damn that Setting Sun"
and wiped the tears away,
as i stomped into the House
and grabbed the first of many cold beers,
from the decrepit old fridge in the kitchen.
That was three days ago,
looking out the damned dirty window,
at the two large garbage cans
full of full of beer bottles
and empty bean cans,
I think I've finally figured it out.
I'm sitting here, hiding from myself,
on this gray and desolate,
muddy, backwoods Bayou.
I live here with my three new friends,
my mute companions, so to speak;
my Mistakes, my Sins and my Personal Damnations.
Somehow they keep distracting me
from my self,
and what is truly torturing my Heart.
so glutted with my self-inflicted pain,
that even simple sweat and discomfort
leave it un-salved.
Also, my self inflicted and futile,
Fasting, Sleepless Nights, and Devil Alcohol,
do nothing to appease.
Listen ..... Again!
Another gust of heated wind
blows through the house, and ....
Can't you hear those damned
Wind Chimes dancing?
The fickle wind tossing the hollow shafts
against each other,
and with each crash,
a different tone is emitted loud and random.
After three days, the sounds,
whether deep or shrill,
rub on raw nerves and
There they go again!
Clang! Clink, Bong!
Each in random time and depth.
Those Damned Wind Chimes of Hers!
She left them there to punish me.
To punish me for letting her leave ..... I know!
To punish me for not running after her ...... I know!
For letting her go!
But, this punishment?
It far exceeds the Crime.
It 's much worse than the Crime.
It was such a small thing I thought,
at the time.
A mistake in judgement,
a momentary lack of forethought.
Do I stand resolute with my crime?
Or do I finally go after her?
I could have savd our Love with a word,
a smile would probably have even been enough.
Does No One Know?
It' s my Soul that cries,
with the Loss.
You damned Fools,
You simpletons without name.
She left me, you see.
She said she could take no more.
And If I didn't straighten up, and treat her right,
then she was going to drive down that dusty old path from our house,
turn onto the main road and a new life.
Then she would just drive as far as she could,
to get away from me, and my arrogant ways.
I didn't realize, just how far "away" was,
when two hearts are involved.
Once ..... We soared to heights
beyond your weak mind's sight,
young and in love,
melded together with a lifelong bond,
or so i thought.
But it turns out that
we were just a passing instance of passion
for two incompatible lives.
We were together to Love and Learn,
and then to move on,
or so it seems now.
We were tested by Love and found wanting!
Pretty Lovers, playing at the hardest game of all,
but finally found to not have the strength,
it takes to grow together and not apart.
We were like two stiff Oak trees in a Storm,
standing against that wind called change,
rather than bending and growing
with the same Wind.
This saturated air in this house
is almost unbreathable,
it"s so heavy.
and yet, I just sit here, waiting,
for the next raw clang,
of that damned Wind Chime!
My Rights and your Rights
Don Bobbitt's Authors Page
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