Author: Carl Meadows R.N. BSN, MA

The Rainstorm

As I stood under your streetlight Your pelting streams cut through the reflection And burnt my eyes with imagination For every ray of success Was a puddle of failure I can’t imagine holding the expectation of success When disappointment has cut the deepest of scars And I’ve touched them often The buffet has fed the masses When the belly has gone hungry As the vision has heeded such beauty The grief has caused me to succumb, and I let you go The future will tell the tale and become the imagination of the next generation of those who dream big and are willing to fail Acceptance is the liberty of all possibility I hold you up to the light and let you go with no expectations As I stand in the rainstorm of life, Failure is a beautiful gift and I thank you The world is changed as a result Carl Meadows November 1, 2015

Looking for me

In a sex induced culture and in a long term relationship it can feel at times like you are missing out. Particularly when you are questioning your beauty as you are getting older. This poem captures the essence of feeling confused and the possibilities that comes with a new way of “kicking the door down to finding yourself”. Looking for me So many images with faces like me, How are they different; what makes them unique I see them sitting with friends that they know, Laughing and drinking with their arms all in tow I want to be like them, whatever that is I was like them once, and never let anyone in I can’t imagine they want to spend time with me Over forty and not twenty Monogamous and hitched In a culture of sex, what could be worse than this? Where are my friends, I wonder, do I push the away Do I fear them finding out I’m insecure and afraid I’ll make sure I ‘m smiling or traveling in style So a …

The Promissed Land

As a stood before you, I knew it was a long way to the promised land I believe it existed, as I had seen it in my dreams so many times, like a kaleidoscope that suddenly stops moving; clarity As I looked out to the flock, I knew there were so many hearts like mine and the power of feeling loved was deep The sceptics were amongst us and the critics had yet to show their sharp and piercing teeth The path to the place of solace and peace would be long and trying for even the toughest of man The dust cut my skin like a plague of termites and the thirst of hunger and air was more than one could endure The vision was clear and the purpose was solid; the cracks on my feet cut with each step As the enduring ache ensued, I though of you and closed my eyes; I was pulled forward with the hope of tomorrow As all the days before the many yesterday’s had left a trail …

Playground

I believe in life, many of our adult struggles and pain come from the metaphor of the playground. This is a poem that captures that primal need to belong and the ache that ensues when we get left behind. Playground As I stood against the shimmering sky, I waited for you, as if you were the most important moment of my becoming I waited in anticipation of the laughter and the belonging, that comes with a moment on the swings The running around the bushes and the counting to ten, as everyone scatters and hides The climbing of the poplars and the pretending that comes when you are standing on the top of the world, as the rooftops appear like doll houses The feelings that come with belonging to something bigger than ourselves and the proud elation that happens as the stories of the playground make us worthy As I sat on the tidder todder, it became apparent, that I was alone and there would be no saviour to elevate me. Emotions felt like a …

The Last Page

As I sat with the notes in front of me, I trembled to turn the last page Knowing there was nowhere else to go, the ink would soon run it’s course The fear of forgetting the past or at worst, forgiving the path travelled to arrive at tomorrow’s yesterday; I closed my eyes As that single tear, cut a path down my war lines of wear and age, I realized the magnitude of moving forward The final chapter would be closed forever; it will be for the rest of man to open her page long after my demise I touched the ink to the page and the solemn tear dripped from my chin and I smiled, as I knew this time had arrived a long time ago It was the waiting that caused me to ache, as I wrote the final word “goodbye” and closed the page for eternity, never to wonder again Carl Meadows July 10, 2015

Poem: The Space Between Us

Sometimes in life, emotions and love sneak up on you and all of a sudden we are staring fear in the face. There are many cross roads in love, and all of a sudden we have to make heart wrenching decisions and sometimes we knew from the first kiss that love was doomed but we needed it in that moment. The Space Between Us Lying so close, I couldn’t tell whose heart was beating louder Whiskers scraping the surface, feelings dredging the depths You are my kryptonite, taking all my vulnerabilities I had left Why was the untalking so intense, was the space between us so unfamiliar, Did we want to say something but couldn’t, because emotions were foreign? Was my embrace not big enough; is my love not recognizable, am I missing some obvious signs? When I saw you the second time, a cavernous ravine opened up in front of me Did I find my Holy Grail, or a wound from my past that couldn’t heal? The stronger the love the deeper the hurt; …

Poem: Jumping on the Rocks

Jumping on the rocks Here’s a wee tale about me as a boy, I dreamed of flying but my mother warned That I would scrape my head or end up dead But in the end, I played in puff the magic dragon instead There came a time where I had to say good bye, To friends I had, adventures I made; off to a new journey in a land far away My hands broke way, to the friends I had made I dreamed real big as I left my spot, Jumping and singing, of to the next rock My hands broke way, to the friends I had made But I looked to the next and I could see my dreams far away As I jumped on the rocks, with my biological clock, I could hear the ticking and my skin began shrinking My dreams not far away, what could I say? Jumping on the rocks, leaving the past Creating space for tomorrows dreamers Adding new rocks to the river as I create a new path …

Poem: The last note

If you were saying goodbye to someone you loved deeply and knew it was possibly the last time you would see them in your lifetime, what would you say? The Final Note As I sat down to write a final note, I wondered what to say Fearing each written line would pull me further away Thinking if I wrote what I wanted to say, you would stay for eternity My written thoughts would be prolonged till the ink disappeared I stared across the landscape, my emotions felt heavy The last leaf torn away, from the tangled branch to hang still and empty The time of fullness had passed in all its glory Does the word forever have any meaning? Knowing my heart will always remember Was it enough to sustain me? Will the memory fill me with warmth, when I am feeling cold? Is it the last time, the last tear, or the forever in that last kiss? Did the words “I love you” ever make it to your soul? The invisibleness of knowing what …

Poem: The illusion of masculinity

The illusion of masculinity Surfacing from the ashes, my stubble and mustache appeared Once a secret only known to me, I could now become whole and complete as I showed my masculine prowess Sculpted with muscles and a scent of musk, my hunger gripped me like a mirage; eating through the eyes of lust was an ultimate betrayal The power I felt knowing I was wanted, superseded the wisdom it took to be a man All I could do was imagine the possibility of shaking the male world into submission The ultimate image of power and confidence a few feet in front of me I reached into my leather sack and pulled out the most threatening weapon of all I placed them on my feet and walked amongst the crowds My masculinity caused a severe vulnerability amongst men The heals would threaten the most iconic images of manhood As I lifted my head amongst such fascination and distain, I rose above them all; I turned my head and walked into the future The illusion of masculinity …

Poem: Mother

Posted with permission. As I prepare to give my mom her 7 year sobriety cake on Tuesday evening, I wanted to share one of my most personal poems. I asked my mom if I could share the poem I wrote her after her first year when she was presented with her medallion and she said yes. Mother As a little boy you held my hand You protected me fiercely You took a stand As a sensitive child you wiped my face From the tears of discrimination That my spirit couldn’t face You held me up for the world to see Loving me as I was You saw the beauty in me Over the years, the spirit became poisoned By the drink of choice Despite the warning voices My child inside wanted to curl up and die As any evening with the drink would be soon be filled with lies I let down my mom What a terrible son Could you not see it coming? Was the rant I kept running. Not from a judgmental son …