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Our Meeting Place Has Been Changed
by David R Spellman
Scrambled reservations have left
no more room for Sunday breakfast
while the option of Monday night football
has been ruled a penalized offense.
Tuesday’s pinball has been bumped
and tilted happy hours have all
been drained on these crappy,
dour, cheerless Wednesday evenings.
Thursday’s dart games are corked
and bottled up while Friday runs
to the track have gone to the dogs –
racing is no longer in the cards even
Saturday poker has folded. Chips have
been cashed against long weekends
to Atlantic City; driven to an end,
week-long road trips to Saratoga.
Life doesn’t let us play anymore
the way we used to before shackles
entwined themselves and we grew
heavy with obligation, anchored
in our stabled domestic ways.
Now we muster in unscheduled fashion,
in unknown homes grown sadly familiar,
on whatever day of the week becomes
necessarily immediate, perfunctorily dictated
we gather round plush, cushioned boxes
occupied by pale empty shells of people
we’ve known and loved so well,
a custom to say our last farewell
and remember what they used to be
for us all left to continue our own pursuits
inevitably to meet there again all too soon.
What say we get together somewhere
different next time, before I find myself
at last peering down on your box or you
end up hovering finally around mine.
01/17/2005 Posted on 02/06/2005
Copyright © 2024 David R Spellman
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Quentin S Clingerman on 02/06/05 at 01:34 PM Definitely suspense built into this very descriptive narrative poem. It says to me. Better live while one is alive! Let not the death of friends and loved ones cause one to be moribound! |
| Posted by Chris Sorrenti on 02/07/05 at 05:32 PM So true Dave so true. We're like the lost boys and girls who swore we'd never grow up, and now look at us. Excellent expression! |
| Posted by Bruce W Niedt on 02/08/05 at 02:38 PM Superb, David! I love the wordplay in the first stanza especially, but the familiar truth of the message really makes this poem. A strong voice and an eloquent argument for making the most of our lives, to take time to emjoy it before it's too late.... d:-) |
| Posted by Charles E Minshall on 02/08/05 at 08:11 PM Good poem Dave! Yes live life to the fullest
while you can...Charlie |
| Posted by Sarah Graves on 02/09/05 at 10:54 PM Exceptional work here, you really seem to grasp the drudgery of the mundane, and the pursuit for something opposite of today. Very well received.. |
| Posted by Michele Schottelkorb on 02/10/05 at 02:25 PM carpe diem... excellent piece and congrats on POTD :) |
| Posted by Sarah Graves on 02/10/05 at 06:03 PM yes, congratulations on POTD! :) Have a good day |
| Posted by Charles E Minshall on 02/11/05 at 12:55 AM Congratulations for poem of the day Dave...Charlie |
| Posted by Lauren Singer on 02/11/05 at 03:33 AM what a wonderful read this was. i congratulate you on POTD and thank you for writing such a well-worded reality. |
| Posted by Kris Mara on 06/01/09 at 03:37 PM oh, this is too true, isn't it? you write this feeling (so many of us know) honestly -- and the ending drives your point home (and deep into my chest) -- it's stunning. Thank you for directing me to this -- I'm so glad that you did...I feel we've crossed a barrier here, both having shared our experiences on the topic...and that's immense. |
| Posted by Pall Kvaran on 02/22/12 at 07:38 AM Love it! |
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