My brother, where we once were.

Behind all these days that have now passed, where we are now found worn, used and torn.
Can so easily remember that the light was differently soft where the heat flowed embracing sweetly swept.
The color of the grass did not matter where we went, it was all we gave and never what we got.
There was an islander we had to fear, the adults told us that if we saw him we would have to flee.
There was the old tramp, drinking straight clean booze, that no sense could reach, with the rubbing alchohol bottle colored in a delicate light blue.
Us hidden in the lap of the family were the few who were never held accountable, as if it could be us, they were to be hidden away like an ugly drawing.

We had an insatiable appetite for all that life hid, and preserved, yes there were also many things we forgot, now apearing as a haunt in all our dreams.
We got to sing the same songs over and over again, when all the boys were enemies and the girl our only friend.
At times, sure life would just go by without getting anything and never finding the dream we all saw.
We have taken such a painful farewell to the few we truly cared for, seen them disappear meaninglessly in the darkness and void of silence.
We had each other until life grew up; left us to grow up, left us and took the best we gave and now we are alone at the top of life.
Our whole life only led here, where all pain always sings the same sad song.

There was so much fun; play, love and laughter, yes much more than any of us ever grasp.
What we were in those glorious days, we both know now that they will never return.
We said goodbye and saw each other again in every way we could, reunited where love reigns.
I never think I got to say it in my own words, but we ruled damn this Earth.
As we were the only ones and the few, I now know that we were all wiser in what we did and what we saw.
Alone we can not travel on the path we left, so friends please stay and let’s sing one last song for what is left for us.

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About jachso

Hey Destiny Poets. I live in Denmark about 90 km from Copenhagen and works in Roskilde as a teacher and mentor. I'm probably not like most men of my age and yes I am aged 50 years old. I've tried a lot of jobs without finding what I'm passionate about. Writing, I have always loved and I was probably just 14 years old when I produced my first poem. I have not yet been released some of my poems, but I hope it happens one day. I just finished a novel which I would like to have published, now the time and talent show whether I have the ability to write. Poetry has a special meaning for me and this is where I really feel at home. My life has sometimes been marked by many losses. In the mid eighties, I lost my fiance at the time when the accident happened was pregnant. She lost control of the car and drove herself and her child, who was on his way thereby, to death. It has really made its mark on my life and way of thinking. In the late nineties, I had problems with my back and had to seek other avenues to support myself. I finally decided to enroll at university and was admitted to the humanist line. I read philosophy, science, psychology, journalism and history, but philosophy and psychology is my major interest. I thrive today in the RUC aka Roskilde University just 25 km from Copenhagen. My job is to guide and teach, and it is a job with speed and that gives me a lot again. I have two collections of poems ready to be released, if I can find a publisher who will publish them. I have no children, it would obviously be my lot in life although I have tried, but luck never smiled at me that way. If you have any questions for me so I hope you just ask away all you want, I'll respond as soon as I have read the questions. With kindest regards from Jan Sorensen

2 thoughts on “My brother, where we once were.

  1. Amita Paul

    This poem is strongly reminiscent of Jacques Brel’s song , ‘ Seasons in the Sun ‘ , especially the lines :
    ‘ Together we climbed hills and trees
    Learned of love and ABC’s
    Skinned our hearts and skinned our knees‘


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