Tag: Poetry

Never Gone

It’s like walking back in time
in a place where the past
is always present.
Old and new, juxtaposed,
with neither way
leaving anytime soon.
A people so willing to hold on
to their culture, the history
of the place they belong.
It’s a beautiful sight
knowing that yesterday
is never really
gone.

© Autumn Siders 2018

Albany

I never caught your names
but I know that matters not.
You could be Mark and Jane,
Steve and Sue, or Deb and Scott.
You bought me lunch
and we chatted about this and that.
Then we parted ways,
you on a cruise and I to buy a hat.
I got to know you well
even though I missed your names
and your kindness has ensured
I’ll never be the same.

© Autumn Siders 2019

First Date

Lucia

It was a chilly night
when first we met
and took a stroll
that ended with a pet.

Your name is Lucia
and your ears flopped
and the more we walked,
your walk became a hop.

They warned of your limp
and that was alright
as I limped along with you
on that frigid night.

We arrived back at base
and you sat so calm and nice
until I bent down
and we finally broke the ice.

A smile emerged
and you kissed my face;
dog slobber covered
every uncovered space.

My only child at home
would never allow you to be
but from that moment on,
you’d always be a part of me.

© Autumn Siders 2019

Laissez Faire

A certain je ne sais quoi
about the Big Easy
makes sure that life
is light and breezy.
The people, the music,
the culture, the food,
all make it hard for even
the darkest heart to brood.

How you doin’?
Where you from?
Everyone comes together,
each part totaling the sum.
The city never sleeps;
its heart forever beats
to the sound of the drums
playing in the streets.

© Autumn Siders 2019

 

Fam

I still think about it sometimes,
the day I was fired.
The owners had just cause
or so you said.
I was a kid,
expendable,
degenerate,
truthfully
you just didn’t like me.
What was it you said
I said?
“I hate gays.”
Then I threatened you
with a scissors,
not the knife
I always carry
because I know
what it’s like
to be a hated gay.
Family.
A word I learned
as I came out of the closet.
I learned in college.
I learned at Pride.
I learned in heartbreak.
I learned with the shock waves
of Orlando.
I learned through history:
The Stonewall Inn
The Up Stairs Lounge
Matthew Shepard
Rebecca Wight
Brandon Teena,
the list,
unfortunately,
goes on.

I was working two jobs
to support my family.
I left, enraged.
Our boss,
family,
cried.
Maybe because
so many acts of ill-will
against our family
come from the outside,
she never expected one
from within.
Were those tears
for me?
The wrongly accused.
Were those tears for you?
Such claims had to believed
even when they seemed
impossible.
Were those tears for her?
Because she believed.
Because she didn’t believe.

Truthfully,
the details don’t matter.
What’s done is done
and there’s no going back.
What weighs in my mind
and in my heart
is how many others
suffered your wrath?
What led you down this path
to stab your own family
in the back?
How can we expect respect
from those who don’t understand
when we can’t even
respect each other?
There are enough people
holding us down,
quieting our voices,
telling us we are wrong.
Shouldn’t we support
those we call family?

© AUtumn Siders 2018