Poems by John Sweet

some thoughts on the man she sees when she closes her eyes

 

gives in to the incomplete shapes

of the people from his past

 

answers letters and emails,

says i love you, says

i loved you, watches snow blow

                      past the windshield

 

this is the world without color

 

these moments are all

              shades of grey

 

steps closer to god in the

dying light of some january

afternoon, and all he will ever

                                be is cold

 

poem waiting 28 years to be written

 

in a candlelit room in

the first good days of autumn i

will kiss her pale skin will

say i don’t believe in

god but i believe in you and her 

           smile will make me holy

 

her joy will

let me be more

 

[in a house full of doors with no exits]

 

wants to know about the

last good year says you never stop

talking about it asks were we lovers yet?

and if there is no answer can there

be any truth?

 

if the wrong door is always

locked from the wrong side, can we

possibly be here by choice?

 

but it’s true, yes, that it was

the last good year and

it’s true that i was someone else

 

it’s true that i had the answers but

chose not to share them, and

this is the part my father would laugh at

 

he would be the reason that i learned to

hate myself at such a young age

 

it would be the last good year, and

then nothing but the slow

backwards stumble 

of everything that came after

 

 

 

 

John Sweet sends greetings from the rural wastelands of upstate NY. He is a firm believer in writing as catharsis, and in the continuous search for an unattainable and constantly evolving absolute truth. His latest poetry collections include HEATHEN TONGUE (2018 Kendra Steiner Editions) and A FLAG ON FIRE IS A SONG OF HOPE (2019 Scars Publications).