"Before We Go" & "Alone" 2 Poems About A Tragedy That Should Not Have Been

I often write in 'secret' to my own self. I think most Artists do one way or another. It feels too complicated to explain every last breath, and besides, no one really listens, not really. I read Dale Carnege's, How To Win Friends And Influence People once. I refer to that book, in my head, often. People are not listening.... do you know what I mean? Thus in Mr. Carnege's book the chapter that stands out is the one about getting someone to talk about THEMSELVES! Well yes, of course! But, you know we 'should' listen to each other more. The first poem below is about a tragedy that should not have been. I had a chance to listen 'before', how simple that would have been, just a little focusing.

The second poem is about my later reflection of missed wounds and outcries. After entering this here today I am reminded once again how quickly life can change.

Before We Go

The heros of selfish wounds
owned by summer
not forgotten by fa ll.
As silent as glances
down a long dark hall.
Their end is as painful as their deed,
chosen so hastily.
There are looks I'd like to share,
silences I would treasure.
There are smiles I'd like to say
silenced now forever.
Their children picked flowers at the neighbors
running across the street saying,
Before we go, before we go.
Heros are owned by children,
if they choose to remember them that way.

Alone

Speak to the wise she said.
Offer your soul... in hand.
Who listens to the bleeding heart?
Who travels past the moans and starts?
Medals pile up for the non dreamers.
Medals cover schemers
and in the distance I hear red roses moan.
Speak to the bleeding heart.
Speak to the room cold and stark.
I cover my eyes
and smooth the blankets
comfort my mind.
After all...
who really wants to discover
the motives of our calls?
We speed past souls that whi ne,
layer their layer of motives.
I won't sleep in the distant cold,
focus on colors ... yellow now old.
If gentleness flows through the rivets of old
I'll turn over... grow alone, turn to stone, alone.
Leaves of many colors fall,
cover up
while someone calls.
Secrets are unending.
Yet... we can hide a child with care.

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About the Author:

Kathy Ostman-Magnusen
Hawaii, United States

Aloha! I am a figurative Artist and Illustrator. If you check out my website you will see that I am very prolific in oils. My paintings are collected worldwide. I also do sculpture; images available upon request. I have illustrated for Hay House Inc. , Neil Davidson, who was considered for the Pulitzer Prize in feature writing, and several other publications. I also enjoy story writing and poetry. All of the paintings,stories and Poems on my blogs and website are written by me.

Check out my website http://www.kathysart.com or one of my blogs at: http://kathysart.blogspot.com/

Aloha

Author:: Kathy Ostman-Magnusen
Keywords:: Suicide,Poems,sad Poems,Artist,oil paintings,Fantasy,princess hurry,tragic Poems,lost loves,Klimt
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