Thread: A Desperate Daughter's Hopeful R.S.V.P.

There's an exclusive banquet in heaven
with a table set for three,
but one chair is empty
because it's meant for me.

My parents have been picking
at h'orderves for a thousand days,
repeatedly checking their watches
with a dreamy far off gaze;
hands playing with fallen petals
from exotic floral sprays.

Their standing invitation
requires a responde vous
but they're too far for bars;
can't get my message through.
I'd gladly trade a decade
for an ethereal cell phone
so I can urge them to partake;
it will be a while 'fore I'm home.

I'm leashed to the land of living
twisted in tethers with a choking hold,
while they glumly stare at a place card
with my name engraved in gold
and refuse to signal a waiter
nor a single napkin unfold.

I know they're simply pining
for a fine feast and for me.
A partial wish sure beats none
but I'm hard pressed to make them see

a platter of scraps will suit me fine,
I'm certain a micro can be found.
I swear I hear their stomachs growl
from down here on the ground
yet there's no need to hunger
where retired chefs abound.

So nightly I chant an ardent prayer
in the hopes that they will hear:
"C'mon you guys, you gotta eat,
just don't break out the beer,
but if you must, please spill some out
for your homie stuck down here."

You've got my eyes watering again, Lisa. Very touching to think of your parents this way and you've put some humor into it, so we can smile through the tears, too.

These three stanza's held the heart of the poem for me. In fact, I think they could almost stand alone as the whole poem. I very much enjoyed, Lisa.

My parents have been picking
at h'orderves for a thousand days,
repeatedly checking their watches
with a dreamy far off gaze;
hands playing with fallen petals
from exotic floral sprays.

I'm leashed to the land of living
twisted in tethers with a choking hold,
while they glumly stare at a place card
with my name engraved in gold
and refuse to signal a waiter
nor a single napkin unfold.

So nightly I chant an ardent prayer
in the hopes that they will hear:
"C'mon you guys, you gotta eat,
just don't break out the beer,
but if you must, please spill some out
for your homie stuck down here."

I would add this stanza to the feast:

Originally Posted by ChestersDaughter

My parents have been picking
at h'orderves for a thousand days,
repeatedly checking their watches
with a dreamy far off gaze;
hands playing with fallen petals
from exotic floral sprays.

I'm leashed to the land of living
twisted in tethers with a choking hold,
while they glumly stare at a place card
with my name engraved in gold
and refuse to signal a waiter
nor a single napkin unfold.

a platter of scraps will suit me fine,
I'm certain a micro can be found.
I swear I hear their stomachs growl
from down here on the ground
yet there's no need to hunger
where retired chefs abound.

So nightly I chant an ardent prayer
in the hopes that they will hear:
"C'mon you guys, you gotta eat,
just don't break out the beer,
but if you must, please spill some out
for your homie stuck down here."

Excellent piece, you set the scenery extremly well and filled with emotions. A very enjoyable read...

Fine writing CD. Interesting rhyme schemes and heavy emotional weight. This one's near and dear to you; that you are able to convey as much to a reader is ample testament to the excellence of the poem.

echo.

I enjoyed reading it, especially the last stanza -- which totally reversed the sentiment of pouring out a beer for a dead homie. lol Lovely.

Lisa, you know I've just returned from burying my uncle, so close to my heart. I used to say to him if he goes before me, I expect a seat next to his at the celestial table or I'll be switching place cards.

So nightly I chant an ardent prayers
in the hopes that they will hear:
"C'mon you guys, you gotta eat,
just don't break out the beer,
but if you must, please spill some out
for your homie stuck down here."

Your gift for incorporating humour amid some very serious topics is "saving" And saving for me at this very moment. I'll be praying tonight that my uncle spills some Grey Goose vodka my way. With a slice of lime. He knows I like it this way.

Thank you, Lisa. You've cheered up a glum one over here.

Sorry for the delay, guys, had a lot of stressful stuff going on.

Dear Cindy, No tears, love, this is really a happy poem. I know they're waiting, and that's all I need to keep me going. I agree with you, those stanzas could stand as the entire piece. Not sure if you'll read this, I'm so tardy in replying, but I would love it if you would consider taking a gander now and again at my longer messes before I post them. You're so good at brevity and I'm so hopeless, perhaps if you edit a few, I'll learn how to do it myself, your time permitting, of course. Honored you enjoyed, hon.

Dear Martin, Glad you would include that stanza, I'm fond of that one myself. Excellent means a great deal coming from you and I am practically giddy I could entice such a response. Hopefully, it's a little lighter than usual. *wink* Thanks so much.


Dear Edge, I am always extremely pleased when you like one of mine. I was a bit worried over the rhyme scheme, thought it might flop as being inconsistent. You're right, I firmly stand behind this one, I don't do mushy, ever, but I'm elated the depth of my feelings came through despite my attempt to avoid sappiness. Ever so happy you enjoyed.


Dear Jon, I'll take lovely any day, thank you so much. I have to be honest, the inversion of the usual in the last stanza was accidental. They liked their beer and I didn't realize I'd flipped the norm until I read it back to myself, boy was I happy about that and that it made you laugh.

Dear Laurie, I know you are suffering greatly at the loss of John and if I was able to give you just a moment's respite, it is I who am grateful. Humor tempers all every single time, love the stuff. One favor, love, if you arrive at the banquet before I, please save one shot of Goose for me, only one though, at 103 calories it's all I can afford to imbibe. lol. Love ya.


My sincere thanks to all for your precious time and lovely replies.

All my best, always,
Lisa

Very moving, Lisa. A cool take on loved ones waiting. My mom talks this way about my grandpa quite a lot. Sometimes I wonder what it'd be like to have an ethereal cellphone to ask for advice with, or just to talk with.
-cae

Dear Don, Thank you, love, your Mom sounds like my Mom who instilled the idea in me after her father passed when I was seven. I love the idea, temporary separations are far more tolerable than permanent ones. Ethereal cell phones would solve a lot of problems for many, too bad the invention of such is still inconceivable at this point in time. Lord knows they'd be far more reliable than charlatan "psychics". Appreciate the read, hon.

Best,
Lisa

What a comfort to know how much your mother and father loved you... and still loves you. It is so evident in this poem. Even tho there is a humorous element, it is touching . The waiting and longing comes through loud and clear. A beautiful piece of work, Lisa.

Sondra

Dear Sondra, Thank you so much, my friend. Our bonds were extremely strong, yet we were not an overly demonstrative bunch. We all knew the deal and had no need to do the "I love you" crap every five minutes, but because of that, I was fearful that my true feelings and that God awful longing (which would consume me if I gave it free reign) wouldn't come through, and that the humor might somehow sabotage it altogether. I am both surprised and extremely pleased that this piece was reasonably well received. Maybe I've made them happy enough to at least move on to appetizers. Thank you, again, love.

Warmest,
Lisa