POEMS
Thoughts and Prayers
By Peter J. Licari
When is enough, enough?
When can I hope to say, “never again”, never again?
I’m tired of Thoughts and Prayers said to comfort the pain,
“Kids will be kids”, but those parents are part of the blame.
Thoughts and Prayers are used when they don’t know what else to say.
Unfortunately, It is becoming something you now hear just about every day.
I forget the true horror of the day’s headlines and the shared sympathy.
It lacks true remorse to hear parents say another meaningless apology.
You tell me you have a few guns, but they’re safe and locked away.
Sure, your son knows where they’re kept, and he knows “the guns are not for play.”
“The guns are there for safety only- you know, for protection.”
“Locked in a safe downstairs, and only I know the combination.”
But then, how did the child open the safe? His son never knew the code?
“That code was my birthday, I thought pretty clever on my part to load.”
“That reinforced safe stored all my guns, plus all the ammunition.”
“To use as we would, depending upon our situation.”
I think Thoughts and Prayers don’t really mean a damn thing anymore.
They’re just some words thrown together like in some religious brochure.
When you’re remorseful and paralyzed by the sorrow,
Remember: This will happen again, but in a different place, tomorrow.
I’LL SEE YOU TOMORROW
By Peter J. Licari
Every knock on the door, Every day to go to the bus stop.
Every time you stopped before the path to tie your shoes, so I’d walk into the spider webs,
Every ant nest that we bombed, every cupcake that you ate in just one bite,
Every car that we rolled for distance, every LEGO kingdom that we built.
Every story that only you and I could ever share with every hidden meaning,
I’ll see you tomorrow.
Every fence we walked on, every gorilla we became,
Every monster that we fought, every dungeon we ran through,
Every fort that we built, every adventure under the sea,
That Halloween that you dressed like Charlie Chaplin while we all were supposed dress like thieves,
Every story that only you and I could ever share with every hidden meaning,
Blood Brother Billy, I’ll see you tomorrow.
Every piece of chalk thrown your way….
Every line we said all the time, every road test that you failed,
Every chicken fight that you won,
Every flashlight on you in a storm,
Every Tom Collins with grenadine I finished for you,
Every job that didn’t need your assistance anymore.
Every smile while you and Carl watched the GOONIES.
Every class we ran out from, every pair of glasses that broke on your face,
Every couch that couldn’t hold your weight, every bathroom door you locked on me while you hid the spray,
Every time we slept in my car, every scent of anti-freeze coming from yours,
Every car that spun us round and round and round and round.
Every story that only you and I could ever share with every hidden meaning.
Bubba, I’ll see you tomorrow.
The Walk
By Peter J. Licari
I don’t like the scenery, and everything it means to me…
It’s got a different room, on a different floor.
Covered by a rug, which stops at the door.
There is a very long hall, leading me away,
Past a picture on wall begging me to stay.
There is a two-faced clock hanging on the wall.
All its hands point to me, as I glide down the hall…
To a lonely staircase carrying me high.
Past a two-way mirror, following me by.
Now it’s single file through a double door,
I flap my wings as I start to soar,
higher still than all I can see…
Past a mountain top, that is far below me.
I caught a piece of the water, and part of the sky.
This is the one last wish before I say good bye.
