The Heartbroken Guitar Player

lonely guitar

A few years ago I watched as a young man played a love song inside a subway station in NYC.He seemed so sad as he strummed his guitar.

People dropped coins in his guitar case as they walked by him. The words that stuck in my mind were “Darling, please come back to me.” Today I found the poem I had written about the heartbroken guitar player after I went home that day. I’d forgotten I had put it away to write my love song. I was so touched by his song and his obvious heartbreak.

 

The Guitar Player

 

He held his guitar like a little baby;

Tears ran down his chubby cheeks.

He played his song with all his heart,

telling someone he could not stand to be apart.

 

His fingers caressed the strings

as he had once softly outlined her face.

The audience went crazy;

No one felt out-of-place.

 

After all is there anyone exempt from heartbreak?

Loving just ain’t an easy thing.

No matter what the season but especially in spring.

 

His refrain wanted to mend his mind;

He claimed that girl was only one of a kind.

The sweat and tears kept streaming

from the guitar player’s face

He strummed his guitar with such passion.

I guess he was hoping she would hear his plea

“Darling, please come back to me.”

“Darling, please come back to me.”

 

The audience was standing in ovation;

as the guitar player bowed humbly

but his heart was just an imitation:

that girl had ripped it out the real one miserably.

 

the audience called for an encore

and his voice and his guitar

exclaimed in ecstasy

“Darling please come back to me.”

Darling please come back to me;

Can’t you see what your love has done to me.”

Melba Christie

 

Delight

Originally posted on Melba Christie at Poemattic:

Delight in the greetings

only flowers bestow.

The rose says, “I love you.”

An orchid gently salutes

the morning sun.

The lilies serenade

the moon.

But the best is

the Daisy,

when It smiles;

all is right

for the day.

Melba Christie

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Haiku 54

                                                A prayer is hidden

                                                    inside a lonesome heart

                                                   God listens closely

                                                       
                                                     By Melba Christie
 
 
                                                    sister angel   

Here is Now

Now is here

Here is now

I am here to be me

and to be you somehow

we are a part of each other

every instant, every moment

of the day.

Each moment counts

the now

the  present

and who is to say

what will be

it is what it is

and what is is

not tomorrow

but right now

It is now that I AM
Is there any doubt?

Melba Christie

Photo by Melba Christie 2012

My Brain

“A poet needs to keep his wilderness alive inside him.” – Stanley Kunitz

This poem was among the notebooks I found in my attic. I do not what made me write this one.

My Brain

My brain went bungee jumping

out of control

It bounced up and down

as would be expected

furious leaps and bounds

I thought I’d  be ejected

out of my soul

my brain was out of control

but it finally calmed down

allowing  a deep meaningful thought

to rise to the occasion

It penetrated a cloud

as I yelled very loud

and rain poured down

voluminously

cleansing the earth

of hatred

My brain may never bungee jump

ever again

but if peace should be needed

I want it to catapult

to the heavens above

so that the earth

is drenched with love.

Melba Christie

 

Infinitely Infinite

Deep Purple by Melba Christie

My Daughter

The day is brightest when she is present

her cheerful smile makes our troubles fade away

We Praise the Lord for having her as a daughter every single day.

 

Everyone loves her dearly

from the moment they set eyes on her.

She is the sweetest soul you will ever know

but boy can she raise a stir.

 

Her eyes will never lie to you

they will tell you truths untold

Her chuckles makes you

feel like you found a pot of gold.

 

Just to think about my daughter

fills my heart with pride and joy

every minute of the day

Although we know

she is a woman now

it is important for her to know

that we love her more than ever

and you will be our baby forever.

 

Happy Birthday!!!!!!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I Remember Papa

My memories line up one by one to honor you

every day since your passing.

They have been so faithful

and soothing to me all these years

Some come in so clear

and transport me

I remember papa dear

your never ending kindness and generosity

towards everyone

No one would be allowed

to suffer on your watch.

I remember papa

how you’d laugh so hard at

your own jokes

I remember papa

how you taught me to love opera

even though I did not understand it.

I remember papa how you’d sing

along with Mitch on TV

and then later serenaded mom until she danced with you.

I remember papa

how proud you were to be Puerto Rican,

and dreamed of returning to your

island of emerald green.

 

I remember papa

how you cherished my mother

and made her feel like a queen.

 

But most of all

I remember papa

that you always taught us that love

is the most important thing

you can give a human being.

 

I remember papa

your commitment to family

because you taught by example

and made me so proud

to be your daughter.

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Dedicated to my Dad.  I was not able to post in remembrance of him this father’s day.  May he rest in peace.

Good Old Buddies

Good Old Buddies

Good old buddies:

one four score and nine

the other entering the ninth

decade of his life

A friendship that has lasted more than most

They can’t count the many toasts

they have shared

for good health

happy birthdays

successful careers

wives they adore

kids so keen

beautiful grandchildren.

They shared

fifty years of good debates

over politics

boxing

and the status quo

 

now life seems full of woes

one unable to see

the other unable to walk or talk

but their hearts beat in unison

the message is clear

the code understood

only old buddies can hear

hands shake tight

both still willing to fight

in spite of their plight

 

the good old buddies know

the end of their journeys may be near

when together however there is little to fear.

they bid each other an “hasta luego mi amigo”

for what may be one last time

And I was the lucky one to witness a friendship so dear and divine.

 

Six Year Old Decides to Cut His Own Hair

*This poem is dedicated to my grandson and all little boys and girls who at some point decided they were old enough to trim or cut their own hair.

 

He looked in the mirror

and noticed his hair needed a trim

“I am six years old; I can do this myself.”

He quietly took out his dad’s trimmer

and looked at himself straight into the mirror

ZZZZM, ZZZZM

“looks good so far.”

ZZZZM, ZZZZM

ZZZZM, ZZZZZZZM

“Oops! Oh no!

now what do I do?”

 

He plunked on his baseball hat

and sat down for dinner

hoping no one notice would take

but his father’s tone assured him

he would not get a break

“Take off your hat, you know better than that.”

 

His Mom noticed something just did not look right

and it took some coaxing

because the little boy put up a fight.

 

Finally the hat flipped off his head

sure thing what mom had dread

was right on the money

and to his surprise

she looked tenderly into his eyes

“Don’t worry honey”

 

Big brother came to the rescue

cut his hair down really, really short

to make it look like a navy man’s crew.

and the he little boy sighed of relief

put on his cap, picked up his basketball and ran to the court.

 

Melba Christie (C) 2014

 

 

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Building Poetry Communities on WordPress.com

Melba Christie at Poemattic:

As a month of celebrating poetry, poems and inspiration comes to an end, it really should not. Keep a poem in your heart. Use an excerpt from a poem to let someone know how much you care about them. Write a letter and slip a short poem inside to inspire, calm or excite someone. Write a poem whenever you can. Support organizations and foundations that promote the love of reading poetry. Happy writing to our poets and may all poems find someone to embrace. Melba Christie at Poemattic.

Originally posted on WordPress.com News:

As we’re entering the final week of National Poetry Writing Month (NaPoWriMo) in the US, we want to celebrate all the wonderful poetry-centric community projects here on WordPress.com.

The sites we feature today — like many others we follow and love — make an important point. We may all write on our own, but it’s only when we join a community of other writers and readers that our voices are truly heard.


Keeping it local

Some of the tightest-knit poetry groups are bound by a shared space, where writers know not only each other’s work, but also each other’s face. Over at Poetdelphia, Philly-based poets share poems, announce readings and other events, and celebrate community members’ achievements.

typewriter poetry2
Ghostless Sleep , by Yasin Chines  at Xsentric .

Similarly, .: Poetry in Chicago is a project that aims to bring together writers from across the city’s eclectic poetry community, with posts on

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Happy Birthday William!

Happy Birthday William!

by Melba Christie (c) 2014

 

Pardon me if I sound presumptuous

As I do not mean to be bold

Perhaps it is not proper of me

that I address you by your given name.

But I am honored if you allow me to do the same.

 

You see my seventh grade teacher is to blame

as she made it very clear

your poetry would become so dear

to all of us

She made a huge fuss

and made us memorize whole stanzas

and on your birthday every year

she would have what she called Shakespeare’s extravaganza

 

Also I feel I have known you all my life

you describe much of my strife

besides my father’s name was William too

and maybe this is why I could not help

but to be attracted to you

 

I never want to “speak an infinite deal of nothing”

I feel “the best is yet to come”

as I slowly but surely become

a poet to be followed

an honor I hope is bestowed

upon me before my death

“For in that sleep of death what dreams may come”

““True hope is swift, and flies with swallow’s wings.”

 

This is why I sing

today and everyday

“O wonderful, wonderful, and most wonderful wonderful!

And yet again wonderful”

God knows I never want to be dull

 

So today, the 113th day, of this year 2014

and on the 450th anniversary of your birth,

I celebrate with great mirth

your sonnets most of all.

They taught me about the complexities of love

and how we fall

to romance, destiny from the heavens above.

 

HAPPY BIRTHDAY WILLIAM!

 

 

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List of Sites about Shakespeare and his Works

http://www.williamshakespearefacts.net/list-of-shakespeare-sonnets.html

Let Poemattic know how you do on this Quiz.

http://www.theguardian.com/culture/quiz/2014/apr/23/childrens-books-shakespeare-birthday-quiz

Article

http://www.telegraph.co.uk/culture/theatre/william-shakespeare/10777409/Shakespeares-450th-birthday-Now-all-the-world-is-his-stage.html

 

 

 

Honoring Our Earth

There is no specific date to
remember our mother earth
we should honor her every day

Mother of all
Gaia, beautiful and endless roots
have doted on us for millenia

with leaves of grass and gigantic evergreens
rushing rivers, glossy great falls,
a canopy of cherry blossoms,
cheerful daisies galore delight

your majestic sights excite
and inspire to create
the greatest songs and poems
for your abundance is pure love
shown in masterpieces

your fields of dreams induced
by the sweet aroma of lavender
promote peace and harmony

Dessert flowers mesmerize the nomad
and even your mirages give hope to lost souls
Frosted mountains salute the sun

Mother Earth, Gaia,
Mahimata,
Madre Tierra,
Green Goddess,

There is no specific date to
remember or honor you.

Melba Christie (c) 2014

April 22, 2014 – Earth Day

 

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I had a dream that I had been a guest at 27 rue de Fleurus

I had a dream that I had been a guest at
27 rue de Fleurus

I had a dream
That I had been a guest at
27 rue de Fleurus

Picasso, William Carlos Williams,
Matisse and a few others happened
To drop by.

Oh my!
I felt like I was in heaven.
I asked Matisse to look at one of my portraiture paintings
The one I called exotic lady.
Not a resemblance of me. I think.
He stared at it and did not say a word.

But Picasso approached with caution
and I stepped back to let him
get a good view
and he smiled.

Oh wow!
I did not want to awake.
I wanted the dream to last
So I could speak to Carlos
And ask him about his epic Poem Paterson
This is the town where I taught for many years
I told him.

The place where “everyone has roots”
I believed that “every child is an artist”

I asked him what he thought about his Paterson today
He did not respond but my heart
knew the answer.

27 rue de Fleurus
was a beautiful place
I was in awe of the art
Overwhelmed with the culture
And the echoes of great thoughts

Oh my!
It’s time to get up
Or I’ll be late to work.

Melba Christie 2014

27 Rue de Fleurus

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I let my dream go

I let my dream go
find someone
that would commit
to it with a full heart

It did not think twice
about leaving me
But I am not surprised

I never introduced it to myself
I did not see its potential
I was not in the present

But a new dream is brewing now
it’s in my soul
sweet java
with nine lives
in the now

I can’t let go
of this one
its breath is mine
its heartbeat is mine
I cannot let go
this time

the falls

I do not know why

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I do not know why
I do not know when
but my heart needs to be at peace
it beats like a normal one
I know it loves like a normal one
but it seems that it has broken beyond repair
the bits spread throughout my chest
hoping to find the glue that will make it whole again

I do not know why
I do not know when it was broken
into such tiny pieces

They tell me God will mend it
They tell me I need to mend it myself
but I do not know how
All I know is that
what is, is what it is

I do not know why
I do not know when
but peace will be someday

Melba Christie 2014

Love of Life

Inside me is a profound love
for life itself
Each breath I take reminds me
life is too short
Too brief compared to eternity

And what is eternity?
Who truly knows its measure?
I know my love is forever and
Shall be eternal
I count the stars every night
to make it so

The leaves of grass,
Waves,
Clouds,
They will outlive me
And when I am laid to rest
They will know somehow
I loved their presence
In my life
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The Poem Attic is a place to share poems and get inspired

Melba Christie at Poemattic

The Poem Attic is a place to share poems and get inspired

Never Quite Broken

What you did not build up, you cannot tear down.

Dean J. Baker - Poetry, and prose poems

MY BOOKS http://www.amazon.com/Dean-J.-Baker/e/B00IC6PGQM

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