Wednesday, June 3, 2015

Richard Schnap- Three Poems


I remember exhibits
Of subtitled portraits
More alive than their subjects
As if they’d drawn themselves

And I remember concerts
Of songs soft as whispers
That seemed like they’d risen
From somewhere far away

And I remember readings
Of poems that were spoken
In an obscure language
From a world that was no more

And I remember feeling
True art is a creature
That watches from the shadows
Where no one seeks to look


Sometimes I see him
In line at the supermarket
Counting his pennies
For a loaf of day old bread

And sometimes I see him
In a coffeehouse’s corner
Sitting there for hours
While his coffee grows cold

And sometimes I see him
On a park bench reading
Last week’s classifieds
That someone left behind

And sometimes I see him
At a bar’s Happy Hour
Writing poems on a napkin
Only he can understand


I hear the cry
Of a distant train
Waking me from my sleep

To remember a wish
Sealed in a box
And buried long ago

Of a young man’s dream
To seek fortune and fame
In a city with streets of gold

That over the years
Haunted me till
It possessed somebody else

Now I listen
And pray for the one
That answers its siren call

But for me it’s just
A voice in the night
Moving further and further away

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