“For I Am an Engine . . . ”

” . . . And I’m rolling on.” Is the opening line to the Neutral Milk Hotel song titled Engine and it’s quite good. 

Anyways, rolling on. (See what I did there?)

It’s been a while since my last blog and I’m sorry to whoever actually reads my blogs for not being as consistent as I once was (writer’s block folks, it gets us all) but I’m sure it wasn’t too much of a loss for you worms and gals. If you were somehow disappointed in my commitment to this blog or my ability to be consistent, I truly am sorry and hope that the poem I wrote (shocking right?) this time is much to your satisfaction.

The poem is titled the Slip. It’s about this moment between two people who were walking hand in hand in the rain and one of them slipped out of the other person’s hand and he/she fell in a puddle of rain. Sounds lame right? That’s because it is. 

I’ll explain a bit more later if I feel like it. (I apologize if the poem is a bit long for you. Not really though.)


The Slip

I felt you slip

And into a puddle of rain

You fell

In my hands

You placed hope

And life

And all its eternal blessings,

But still your fingers broke

From my grip

And you were left



And dirty

I remember staring,

Staring into your warm green eyes,


And broken

I remember the questions your eyes did ask,

And the unbearable answers I could never tell you

And then a second would pass

And then another,

And then another,

Still looking,

Still questioning,

But what could I do?

Words tried to form from my tongue to my lips

To pass into the atmosphere of sound

Those fractured seconds lingered

Like the ghosts of my past,

And your past

Till eternity became not only a grand concept

Of unfathomable formulas

Too vast to comprehend

But was in fact

Without question,

My reality

And your reality

Lost in an ocean of thought

And space

We roamed the backyards of our deepest desires

And our most treacherous wounds,

We sought treasures

And passions,

And the heart of all we could ever be,

We became phantoms,

Shadows of our own selves

In the hopes to find something more,

Something real

Then in an instant

That moment suffered its most sweet departure

Becoming but another ghost in our forsaken youth

And then there you were once again




For sanity I fought each fleeting second

To save you from your own drowning,

To save you from your own inescapable memories

Memories of pain,

Of holding on till your fingers bled

And you had to let go

(What else could you do?),

Of breaking,

Of barely breathing,

Of your own self inflicted iniquities,

Of crying,

Of disappointment,

Of regret,

Of longing,

Of suffering,

Of monsters

And demons

And other evils that be,

Of unspoken words,

Of missed opportunities,

Of heartache,

Of abandonment,

My God you beautiful soul

How can you not hear the words of endearment

That echo through the very foundation

Of your beautiful existence?

How do you not notice the gardens,

The rivers,

And the fields

You’d experience as a child

When all was but a glorious fragrance?

How does the sweet nectar of honey,

The savoring texture of fresh bread,

The bright glow of summer’s first apple,

Not move you to poetry?

How can you no longer feel the beauty of life

As it passes through your fingers

Like a thousand blades of grass,

Like the ever-changing winds,

Like the fingers of your heart’s content?

How much longer must you be in darkness?

But still you gaze,

And still I yearned

To tell you the answers of which you so desperately sought

Answers of life,

Of existence,

And of what lies beyond the wonder of the skies

But from my mouth there was only silence

And your soul’s dismay

The only sounds that coul be heard

Were the millions

And millions of drops of rain,

The sad song of the dripping sparrow,

The leaves dancing to that song of sorrow,

And the wind as it passed us by over

And over again

But with my eyes I begged you to dig deeper

Into those melancholy choruses

Of life longing for itself,

I needed you to hear

The true heart of that blessed choir

Drops of heaven falling,

Songs of refreshment,

The joys of life

And movement

And the whispers of the greater Being

All around life permeates

With beauty,

With radiance,

With love

But with words

What could I have said to make you believe?

Not with ambitious speeches of fine eloquence

And grandeur language

Could I have convinced you of this truth

This truth

That I so desperately

Wish for you to place your hopes

And your failures

Oh most beautiful soul

All I could do in that moment

Was reach out my hand

And pray you believe in me

As you once did


So that’s it, that’s the slip. I don’t feel like having to make you read any longer so I won’t explain what this poem is, or why this poem is, or who this poem is, or even when this poem is. It’s a moment like every other moment, like this one and that one and all the others that are sure to follow. It’s insignificant and hard to measure but it happened and it found you beautiful and that’s all that matters. And before I end this blog remember someone somewhere loves you.

P.S. A link to the song I referred to earlier if you were interested.


One thought on ““For I Am an Engine . . . ”

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s