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POEMS

Forgotten

I Saw You
in a Photo


The Last
Love Letter
Iíll Ever
Write


My Song
of Love


On a Gray,
Dusty Wall


When I
Sit Silently
Beside You


Windless
Chimes



 

Tony Spivey Ė Archive



Forgotten

These fading images on yellowing paper
Conjure up thoughts of simpler times
Now revered in my memory.
Instances devoured by the insatiable
Appetite of Time.
Forever pressed into the infinite
Dimensions of space,
Behind the mirror of life.
Gone . . . like you now.
Retained in the essence
Of we who loved you.
Ours only briefly.
For time is relentless.
It calls us all.
We who are destined
To become a memory
Told to generations unborn
And then, forgotten,
Except for a name
On a cold, weathered stone.



Copyright ©1995 by Tony Spivey. All rights reserved.

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I Saw You in a Photo

The image stops time in mid breath
an inhale or exhale, I know not
holding my breath, with you.
There is no name here, no date,
no address, no place to look
except everywhere . . .



Copyright ©1999 by Tony Spivey. All rights reserved.

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The Last Love Letter
Iíll Ever Write
(to you)


It takes such little effort to remember
And all the strength I can summons
To turn away from these memories.
In all the twenty-five years of distance
I have placed between those nights and these,
I am no further away from you than I was then.
Even now, I can close these sunken eyes
And see every moment I spent with you
In vivid reels of Technicolor euphoria.
So vivid every taste, every smell, every sound
Rushes forward like the unleashed waters
Of a swollen river breaking through
A pitifully inadequate dam.
A dam made of the inability to forget.
If I could, I would cease to remember.
You would disappear as fast as the instant of time
That just dissolved into these thoughts.
If only that were possible in any other way
Than to die as a side effect.
No, I will keep them and wear them like the pain
Of age and fight against them on rainy days and
Lonely, cold, winter nights when I write.
I will sleep, dreamless sleep.
You can hide in the suburban darkness
Of a distant town behind the shadow of someone
Who took my place and be loved by sons
Without the name I had so longed for them to have.
You can dream in restful sleep for I will not venture
To find you. I will not tell you
That I love you nor speak of you again.
Except, perhaps, with my last breath.



Copyright ©2000 by Tony Spivey. All rights reserved.

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My Song of Love

The aroma of music
drifts across the vague landscape
from deep within the silhouettes
of moon cast shadows,
effortlessly gliding across the silence,
to caress the face of sorrow
with a tender hand.
Too briefly she lingers
beneath a sigh of restitution.
Chills of remembrance
reverberate in the aftershock
of return from distant places
long ago displaced.
And, the melody of your touch
fades like the end of day
as I melt into timelessness,
where these illusions
reveal their untold secrets
to you, my song of love.
When the morrow unveils
itself as the truth
I will breathe deep the music
and replay the tune
again.



Copyright ©2000 by Tony Spivey. All rights reserved.

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On a Gray, Dusty Wall

She sits alone
in a room made for two,
staring into yesterday,
dressed in white
and not enough make-up
to hide her age,
though she tried.
Tears wait tenuously
in her eyes
to fall without warning.
She hums a song.
The words long forgotten
but the dance preserved
in black and white grains
of silver.
Trembling hands hold
a monogrammed handkerchief
worn thin by searching fingers
and she dances
in whirling swirls of happiness
while seated
in a fragile pose
of reflection,
oblivious to the silence
of outliving life.
Content to wait for death
remembering
the moments captured
in ten faded pictures
on a gray, dusty wall.



Copyright ©1998 by Tony Spivey. All rights reserved.

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When I Sit Silently Beside You

In my muted contentment
there are no secrets seething
beneath the voiceless thoughts
there are only truths and dreams.

And if I were to write them down
or whisper them unto your
eyes and ears, would they not
become more yours and less mine?

Would they not be like strangers
who you once smiled at in passing
and then forgot or would they frame
themselves on the wall of your heart?

There for me to meld with in reflection
or not there for me to ever know
in my muted contentment
where there are no secrets seething.

Beneath the voiceless thoughts
there are only truths and dreams
strangers passing and smiling
at the frames of you in my heart.



Copyright ©2001 by Tony Spivey. All rights reserved.

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Windless Chimes

In my muted contentment
there are no secrets seething
beneath the voiceless thoughts
there are only truths and dreams.

And if I were to write them down
or whisper them unto your
eyes and ears, would they not
become more yours and less mine?

Would they not be like strangers
who you once smiled at in passing
and then forgot or would they frame
themselves on the wall of your heart?

There for me to meld with in reflection
or not there for me to ever know
in my muted contentment
where there are no secrets seething.

Beneath the voiceless thoughts
there are only truths and dreams
strangers passing and smiling
at the frames of you in my heart.



Copyright ©2001 by Tony Spivey. All rights reserved.

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