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< terug
The empty chair
Time and time again
gripped in the claws of loss
remember you, a star
your absence feels surreal
a rope, a knot, a plan
no ashes to ashes, no stone
the sea your final home
and we, matey, stand
on shores here and there
still wondering why
one of us in his prime
chose to leave, to travel
bereft of your presence
feel you still around
every now and then
a moment, a sign, a sound
unexpected, your face
on the screen in a movie
we had never seen
the seeds you did sow
will only know you
through our hearsay
written in red ink
red, like your blood
coursing through their veins
and the hole in all our hearts
as throughout the years
through tears we stare
at the empty chair
feedback van andere lezers- alie_jankind
mooi hoe je eenzaamheid neer zet, juist in latere dagen...
groet
killea: Actually it is about an good friend who hung himself in his garage a couple of years ago. He was in the film industry, stuntman, actor and much more, a super career. He left his wife, babies and all of our circle of friends in shock and disbelief. His ashes were strewn into the bay where we always went diving. It is not about loneliness in old age......it is about continuous missing.
thank you Alie
xx
j - Mistaker
Poems from the empty chair...
Greta xx
killea: for the empty chair more like it, thanks Greta
xx
j - jan
life can be so lonely, waiting feels like torture...
xxx
j
killea: waiting? no point waiting for the dead Jan
xxx
j - Wee
... and it will always hurt ...
x
killea: indeed it will Wee
xx
j - hettie35
Heel intens geschreven, knap.
Groetjes Hettie
killea: Many thanks Hettie
xxx
j - martine
rakend mooi
killea: thank you Martine
xx
j - ivo
schrijnend mooi
killea: thanks Ivo
xx
j - aniram
Need a spare empty chair Killea? I've got one!
Sounds like "esteem" spirit! Love it!
killea: indeed Michel you got it, sorrow and esteem
xx
j - Hoeselaar
Hoe later de jaren hoe knottiger het garen waaruit het leven gesponnen werd.
De leegte rondom ons wordt steeds dreigender ze verstikt ons met het absolute niets, Effin zo lees ik dit.
Willy
killea: yes, that could be another version Willy
xx
j
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