Wednesday, May 11th, 2022

Weekly Selected Poems : Rob Krabbe

Rob Krabbe   |   Wednesday, 11 May 2022 | Print

Weekly Selected Poems : Rob Krabbe

Rob Krabbe

“Love, on a Shelf”

.
I don’t usually see
myself that way.
My heart often
has too far much to say.
How in our entire
vast relationship,
do you explain
the cause of delay?
Words are oft times
a bargaining chip.
But what gets
in the way of love,
the feelings, being
solidly new,
stand at a distance
in white gloves;
the last person to
ever know, is you.
Why don’t people
say what they feel?
Instead of worry
about everything else?
Love is good,
fears seldom real,
But you end up,
at some point putting
your love on a shelf.
Like that effing elf!
Everyone ends up
grieving instead;
an emotional three
hots and a cot;
until dead!
Thinking on all I should’ve
said, and all I should not;
Truth?
We both end up,
lamenting instead.
All the best in us
in the ground to rot.
Does everyone make peace
with realities fraught?
with a pile of grief?
you subconsciously,
laboriously,
ridiculously,
lay in wait for?
bought… and paid for?
Of course not!
.

………………………………………….

.

This is the Way

.
based on Psalm 139
You know the depths of me;
the known and the hidden of me,
through, through and through,
the soul and heart of me;
I try to hide, yet you
know the hidden of me.
When I fall, when I rise;
my thoughts, the voices inside,
outside, and the demons,
from the hidden of me;
from my true heart,
to the spirits from afar.
Sometimes I think,
if I could just make it darker;
more isolated, more alone,
more sad, more … dead.
I try that instead, but no.
It’s a big dead end for me.
You know my going out,
my lying down; all of it, and
every word I try to say;
inside and out, before my
tongue tastes a single
infected word.
Where can I go from your spirit?
Where can I run from your soul?
When I travel to the stars,
or the heavens, you are there;
If I dive deep into the oceans
or the rivers, you are waiting for me.
If I rise on the wings of the
dawn of new hope, or
of every brand new day;
settling on the far side of the past,
your ways are like a chaos to me.
For you are there, no matter where,
before I thought to be anywhere,
you are there to welcome me.
Your hand guides me
and holds me fast, and
protects me from myself;
You toss my fears aside,
behind me into hell,
and sets them upon the top shelf.
The darkness, oh the deep, deep
darkness tries to keep me down.
Yet even the darkness flees from the light.
You are the author of my hope,
the composer of my life.
You are the Noon at Night.
We are fearfully and outrageously made;
I know your works are wonderful;
I know full well, I must set aside,
my own feelings about me,
my own needs, set aside,
to trust the way You see me.
Forever. I will seek you.
Search me then . . .
know my heart,
know my mind,
know my thoughts.
See if there is any offensive way
in me, and lead me in Your path.
Let your ways, be the only ways in me.
For . . . this is the way.

………………………………………………….

.

Journey to Destiny

.
(turn device sideways to view from small screen)
I’ve been searching,
for what seems to me a thousand years.
I’ve been seeking,
from the prison of a thousand tears.
Draw anchor from the deep,
even though I deign to doubt existence.
Drink to thee, the blessed wine,
even though I doubt my substance.
Ghostly vision of that night,
when moonlight spied you loving me.
As now I know your touch;
and feel your soul with mine, eternally.
I’d trade my remaining days,
for one more moment in your arms.
Even my eternal soul,
If I could keep your likeness and your charms.
I fix my mirrored steel,
in the light reflecting from your eyes.
For I exist on borrowed time,
having little of my own to burn.
Oh, the view from here,
th‘eternal Beauty of my fantasies.
I’ll cherish what I’ve left,
grasping tightly to my memories.
I can see my body there,
still as death and cold as all the night.
Behold my legacy,
in foul box, then close the lid down tight.
I’m resigned to this,
consequence of all my troubling years.
I truly had the choice;
I now inherit all my legend fears.
Pull the blade out clean,
and tightly hold it to your breast.
Romance this stone again,
but in vow, please do not try to follow me.
On this I promise,
you must in freedom find your destiny.
I will fight on alone,
for all the answers I seek desperately.
Each day lover, smile for me,
keep the story of our love alive.
Yet tighten all your lines,
and be thou under winded sail.
Hold true to the charts,
lest you end up tossed in gale.
Keep thou, my lover well . . .
for there is only legend now to tell this tale.

……………………………………………….

.

Love Will Find a Way to Make it Right

(Turn sideways if on phone screen)

(Audio of the Rob Krabbe Band below doing song version)
Tell me now, there’s a little something more inside.
Something in the way you
looked me in the eyes.
Tell me now, the times you’ve been stirred and shaken.
The mask and the
measures you’ve taken,
to make sure, your heart
stays safe and free.
Tell me now, if you don’t mind my asking you why.
You feel to me, like the middle of the night.
Tell me now, I wish I could have known you when.
We were raised on opposite sides of the fence.
You live like any moment you might die.
So get some really good sleep
in the middle of the dreams tonight
because love will find a way to make it right.
Tell me now, you’ve had pain you don’t understand.
I can see it in your trembling pale hands.
Tell me now, the dreams that have already died.
I can see the life you had to set aside,
and that cute little way you almost
pass out when you try to lie to me.
Tell me now before the chance fades away.
The reasons you stayed, not the ones you gave.
Tell me now about the workaday world we live in,
and the promise of futures failures forgiven,
before irony, becomes the only flag we wave.
Tell me now, it’s not so hard to comprehend.
The beginning to the long awaited end.
To send some kind of message to the other side.
That there’s more to life than just being alive.
The future holds whatever you put in it.
Forgiveness for the things we call sin.
I know it’s not so far away, that you can’t grasp,
the way you hang on to the very things
that make you sad.
So …
Lay it down.
Set aside.
Cast away.
Far behind.
Breathe it in.
To blow it out.
Wash it clean.
To set it down.
Keep your eyes
focused forward.
Better yet,
close them tight.
Get some really good sleep in the middle
of the dreams tonight because love will find
a way to make it right.

………………………………………………

.

Peppy The Wonder Dog

.

She was a genetic stew,
a dog of this and a bit of that,
and possibly a bit of furry cat.
Ugly mutt is what dad would say,
but I loved Peppy and her one
short “gimpy” leg anyway.
She was my one dog in a
lifetime; I am still a child
when she is on my mind…
We would be running and jumping
fast through the thick cornfields, or
down the street; maybe the long grass.
While I was looking at cloud shapes
and superheroes, she’d stand guard,
in case we were attacked.
“An elephant, do you see it?”
Pep would make the funniest sound,
and then run stupid circles in the yard.
“You know Rob,” I said to myself,
I’ll admit it, it almost brought tears.
As of this writing, Peppy . . .
“She would have been 351 dog years.”
That day we rolled deep into 1969;
moving day, the great adventure.
Like any other day, she chased the car.
Followed us pretty far down Route 1.
Past the park and that field of dogwood.
But this was all sadly different, as a
moving van was following us,
erasing our tracks and picking
up the bread crumbs of my childhood.
We’d have no way to find our way back,
to that cornfield in Saint Charles Illinois.
Back to the summer of my youth, and
those magical, wonderful mythical days.
Dad had said we had no room for a dog
in the city and so, my young childhood
and my life went up in a horrible blaze.
Stupid happy, Peppy jumped after
the car like nothing was wrong.
“Stupid damned dog,” I whispered
between tears.
Running and jumping and panting.
Stopping only to pee on a corn stalk.
Smiling, tongue hanging out, trusting,
until she looked up, head cocked,
suddenly concerned, and we were
gone, gone, gone, beyond the hills
and past the horizon and the forever fog.
I really only have one question now.
All these years later, I want to know.
As an adult, I get that it’s silly, really,
but I wish I knew who? The epilogue:
tell me who buried my dog?
My wonderful, best friend ever,
“Peppy the Wonder Dog.”

.

Copyright@Rob Krabbe

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Posted 12:18 pm | Wednesday, 11 May 2022

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