This poem is written from a male point of view as a kind of song . . . .
Stranded Out in Time
She’s a gentle woman.
She don’t mean me any harm.
Yet, I will not take her
Into the circle of my palm.
I’d best pick up my suitcase
An’ pack my lies inside
That old clock keeps tickin’
An’ tells me to run an hide.
There’s a voice, a song
That keeps poundin on my brain
It says “Brother you best move along
Before you go insane.”
It seems it’s my nature
T’ be stranded out in time.
Can’t say why or when
I’ll be movin down the line.
Never meant to cause no pain
T’ no soul abroad at night
Need to go with the darkness
strayin far from the
light.
No matter how many hearts I break
I do remember them all.
Their soft an’ gentle sweetness
And the sounds of their rootless call.
Just once I would love to settle
And ease my hollow pain
But, soon as I grow roots
I pull them up again.
It seems it’s my nature
T’ be stranded out in time.
Can’t say why or when
I’ll be movin down the line.
I was asked to deliver a message
But got lost along the way.
I fell down by the roadside.
Layin’, blinded to the day.
The words on that
tearstained paper
Left by my ragged
self.
Still lay with the
dust
In a bottle on the
shelf.
Someone finer and far
better
Will have to find it
here still burnin
And give it to the
fair-haired ladies,
Who pray for my
returnin’
It seems it’s my nature
T’ be stranded out in time.
Can’t say why or when
I’ll be movin’ down the line.
1/8/13
Ms. Billie Mudry
Spaight
