5 Single Words
 
There was a man
Only 30 years of age
Yet
He found himself at the end of the road
He had lost his job
His career
His money
His savings
What there had been of it anyway
All because of a simple accident
Well, not so simple of an accident
For he was also facing the possibility
The possibility that he would never walk
Again
 
He had fought
Tried to look at every possible angle
Until he came to but one conclusion
One that a person
That has never been in this situation
Could possibly ever understand
 
He waited
Waited there in bed
The bed that he was becoming way too accustomed to
Until his wife had left for work
Until the kids had been sent off to school
Waited there until he was finally
All alone
Yes
He had argued and fought
This was against all that he believed in
But there it was
Hidden in the words of an obscure insurance policy
To some
He was worth more dead
Than alive
 
Surely they would understand
He tried to explain it in a note
He knew that God might not be able to
But he pleaded for their forgiveness
And he was afraid that somehow
Somehow he might just become to them
A burden
This was just more than he could take
 
So he laid there in that bed
All alone
With a loaded pistol in his hand
Fighting a losing battle
With the simple reasoning and logic
That had driven him to this decision
 
In the very instant
The moment when it had finally come down
Down to raising the barrel to his head
He heard a whisper
A voice
Barely audible
But familiar somehow
5 words
That was it
19 letters
That made him stop
 
Who will find your body
 
Would it be one of the kids
Possibly his father
That said that he might come over
Or would it be his wife
 
There were so many possibilities
So many different people
And that was when it hit him
Hit him how really blinded
He had let himself become
 
He put the gun away
And was very careful
Careful that no one else saw how often
For the next few days
That he cried
 
Some people would argue
That this was simply his conscious
That there really isn’t such a person
As God in heaven
But
I know one man that will argue this point
And do so with great reason
For in the darkest hour and moments
Of a 30-year-old man’s life
God himself came down from heaven
And spoke just 5 single words
And if you haven’t figured it out by now
I thank Him every single day of my life
That He was there
To give me the strength
And the courage
To listen
 
Ed Roberts 8/04/02
 
I

 

NEW LINK WITH MORE OF ED ROBERTS POETRY

                          POETIC VOICES MAGAZINE

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If I Can't

by

Ed Roberts

If I can’t run
Then I will walk
If I can’t walk
Then I will crawl
If I can’t crawl
Then I will roll
If I can’t roll
Then the world will just have to come
To me

If I can’t sing
Then I will talk
If I can’t talk
Then I will write
If I can’t write
You will just have to listen
To my eyes

If I can’t laugh
Then I will smile
If I can’t smile
Then I am not trying hard enough
To laugh

If I can’t fly
Then I will dream
If I can’t dream
Then
And only then
Will I truly be
Lost

If I am lost
I will find my way
God
To you
Then I will run

If I can’t run

Ed Roberts 10/02/02
 

There was a Man

by

Ed Roberts



There was a man
Who left a bar
He didn't have too much to drink
Or so he thought
It was just a short way home
And he knew the way
Even with his eyes closed
And they were not far down the road

There was another man
With his wife and kids
Coming home from a vacation
Or trying to
But there was a man
Who left a bar
Driving with his eyes closed
In the wrong lane
Without his lights

Maybe the roads were a little too slick
Maybe it was just too late
Maybe it was just "supposed" to happen
There was an accident

There came another car
Filled with a man
And several young men
Too old to be children
Way too young
To deal with what they saw
Or what they had to do
But they got there first

There was a boy
Who knelt in the rain
Only 12
Holding another 16 in his arms
As he breathed his last breath
Then he left to stop the cars
That were coming up way too fast

Soon he was joined by the others
That had the same thing happen to them as well
Help came too late
Even for the baby that lived the longest
No matter how hard anyone tried
No one was left alive

You see
I am writing this
Because there really was a man
Who thought he hadn't had too much to drink
And he really left the bar that night
And I was there too
Part of me died as well
And part of me grew up
To write this
Maybe to find a way to understand
And maybe just to find a way
To reach another man
Who might leave a bar
Who thinks he hasn't had too much to drink

As a 12-year-old there was little that I could have done to change the outcome of what happened that evening. I feel that if I could somehow take someone back through this poem to that night, hopefully it might help prevent them from having to go through the same thing.
Alcohol has never helped anyone; it just leaves victims and empty bottles behind.

 

A poem written by the Man who left the Bar

by

Ed Roberts

I stand here
Alone
On this wonderful spring morning
Around me
Birds are singing
Flowers blooming
The sun beats down
Through a clear blue sky
Yet my body shivers
Shakes from the cold
Inside
I see only dark clouds forming
Winter’s fingers
Reach up around my feet
Dragging me forward
Dragging to the one place that I have to go

Before me lies a hole
Six feet deep
Four feet wide
And seven feet long
A brand new gash into the Earth’s flesh
I stand here at the very edge
Looking down into this empty space
Crying
Knowing that in a few short hours
This hole will be vacant no more
I am the reason it is here

Two days ago it started
I will never forget that morning
I woke up as usual
The monkey beating at my forehead
The world sliding back and forth
Fighting my way from the bedroom
I picked up the small glass
The hair of the dog
My tonic to wash away the pleasure
The escape from the night before
I turned on the television
Just to have another voice
To help me through the fog
There was the reporter
Standing in the front yard of a house
A house three blocks from mine
They spoke quietly
Reverently
Told of a family’s loss
A little girl had been coming home
Coming home in the darkness from a sleep-over
Her parents were awakened
Not by the sound of her at the door
But by smashing metal
And the roar of an engine
As a car sped away

The glass fell from my fingers
My life shattered along with it
As it crashed upon the floor
I didn’t need to go look at the car
My mind knew what was waiting in the garage
What horror waited there for my eyes to see
I went there anyway
Sat there for hours
Alone in my private hell
And cried

Yesterday was nothing less than a battle
I went from gun to my head
Praying on my knees
To trying to sell myself on the idea
That maybe no one would ever find out
Every mirror in the house is shattered
The bullets of the gun lie on the floor
The house and I both look the same
Shattered and broken on the inside

Finally I came to this decision
I came here this morning
Stood here at the edge of this hole
I pour what is left of my last bottle into its gaping mouth
And with the bottle’s last drop
So goes my life
So goes my soul

I don’t know what they will do to me
Lock me away forever
Take my life
To me now it does not matter
My future I leave here along with what’s left of my heart
Hopefully to give company
To the innocence that was taken
And put here by me

They might someday forgive me
God may find a way to forgive me
But here I stand

My Greatest Horror

 

It might be said

It could have been that day in October

The day the soldiers came to my school

I was 12

I remember it like yesterday though

The way they came into the room

The way two of them grabbed her shoulder

And dragged her from the class

The way the others stood there

Without a word

Without emotion

For what seemed for hours

The way they herded us when they were ready

Out of the classroom

Onto the schoolyard

They made us line up

Perfectly straight

Without a noise

After they slapped down the first child

It really wasn’t that hard for them to do

We stood there watching

Watching as they dragged our teacher

Beaten and bloodied

Into the center of the yard

Not more than twenty feet in front of us

We stood there

Afraid to move

Afraid to cry out

We stood there and watched in horror

As one soldier raised his rifle to her head

And pulled the trigger

I still remember being sent home from school that day

It was the last day of school I would ever have

 

To that point

That moment in life

Yes, you could say this was my greatest horror

Of course

I knew nothing of the days, months, and years

That would follow

 

There was another day

Nearly a week later

My father came home from work

Early

I could hear him and mother talking

They were moving us away

Away to some place

Safe

There was talk that people might hurt us if we stayed

There was talk they would do the same

If we left

Still there was no choice

The soldiers were coming tomorrow

The next day

I left my house

The only home I had ever had

We left with so many others

All piled onto so many trains

Like cattle

We did everything we could to stay together

But even that didn’t last very long

When the train stopped

They started dividing us

They sent some of us left

Some of us right

They shot the first man that stood up to argue

The rest of us all fell into place

I screamed when they took my parents

Made them go right

Then made me go left

I screamed half a scream anyway

A soldier hit me in the back with his gun

I fell to the ground at his feet

A kind looking man helped me up

“You’ll see them later”

He promised

Even then

I was afraid this was a lie

 

At that point

It would be easy to say

This was my greatest horror

What I didn’t know

Is that this wasn’t even going to come close

 

I saw that man again

A few days later

We were hungry

We were filthy

We had not slept

Soldiers were leading us to a group of buildings

At the gate

Again so many people went left

And so many people went right

The man had been standing behind me

Softly counting to himself

Without a word

At the last moment

He grabbed me firmly by the shoulders

And stepped in front

They sent him left

They sent me right

 

A few days later

 My greatest horror came for me then

When I realized they had sent him to the showers

I knew it should have been me

 

 

There was the day they took away my name

To them

I became nothing more than a number

A number they burned into my arm

They said it made it easier to keep track of us

We all knew

It just made it easier for them to go home to their children

And sleep at night

 

 

There were many horrors that followed after that

There was the day the soldiers came

Came in the middle of the night

They had their way with a girl

A girl that was sleeping next to me

There were five of them

This was the most terrified I had ever been

Of course

One week later

They came for me

 

There were so many days

Filled with work for the lucky

So many nights

Filled with terror for us all

There were so many of us that went in

So few of us that finally left

At this point

My greatest horror

Was when I found out

I had no family left at all

 

Looking back

There were so many days one could choose from

For many

This would certainly have been enough

But to say

My greatest horror happened so many years ago

Would be far from the truth

You see

For me

It is as close to me

As yesterday

Simply twenty-four hours have passed since then

 

I was sitting in the park

Alone

Reading my book

Taking time every now and then

As I often do

To do nothing but listen to the children

As they play

Not far away from my favorite bench

There was this young couple sitting together

Sitting in the shade of a giant oak tree

Watching their daughter

As she took her turn

To swing on the swings

 

They sat side by side on a blanket

So close to each other

It was touching

And they shared with each other a book

A book that I could tell

Held their interest

They would stop and discuss its content

And

Every now and then

Set it aside

Once again to focus on their child

 

A couple of hours passed

They and I had reached the point

The point where it was time to go home

The couple got up from their blanket

Called to their daughter

And started to leave

I noticed they had left the book

Left it lying on the ground under the tree

I hurried over to try and catch them

Before they left

 

I was standing over this book

When it came

The words from the cover leapt directly into my soul

Bold black letters

“The Holocaust – the world’s greatest lie”

 

I fell to my knees

And with trembling hands

I took up this book

Forced myself to fumble through it

Page by agonizing page

 

I gathered my strength

Strength I had long since forgotten

Stood to my feet

And hunted down this couple

I returned to them this book

This travesty in print

I showed them my numbers

Before I left them

They both were in tears

 

And yes

Then and only then

My greatest horror came

When I realized

 

Who will do this

When we

Those few of us that survived

Are gone

 

Ed Roberts 5/18/05

(For Shelley, a poem I pray she someday finds the strength to read)

 

 

The Silent Voice --- 
I told one of my friends that i was going to weigh my options. Kate sent me here to read this. there are choices i have to make, thanks to these words abortion won't be one of them. I guess this is what friends are for and poets as well. Thank you
 
Here's the poem ---
 
 
The Silent Voice
 
I know about David
The love of your life
I have seen all the dreams you held
Heard all the plans you made
He was your Prince Charming
I know you planned on forever
Yes
I know about David
 
I know how things went south
So fast
One minute
You were his idol
His Goddess
The next
He couldn’t try hard enough to get away
I know
It’s my fault
 
No
You didn’t plan it
You both should have been more careful
Things just got out of hand
Suddenly everything fell apart
He didn’t want to be tied down
You should do
“The right thing”
That’s all he says anymore
And I know you listen
Deep down
Maybe you think he’s right
 
I understand how afraid you are
I see it everyday
I feel it too
I just hope that you listen to your heart
Instead of him
 
Please Mom
Let me live
I promise I’ll try and help all I can
When I grow up
If I grow up
Please
Just let me be born
 
The answer came days later
Sorry
I can’t
 
Ed Roberts 10/07/04
 
 
I keep trying to tell people what words like these do to my soul but there really is no way to describe it.

 

 


Just a reflection of a man
For I know the day will never come
The day that I
Can forgive
Myself

 

CLICK ABOVE TO READ ABOUT HIS BOOK
This is Ed's latest project.

GO TO: http://www.thepoetryforlifeproject.com

      ED ROBERTS (CLASS OF 1976)

CLICK HERE TO SEE AND BUY ED'S NEWEST BOOK

'Whispers, Tears, Prayers and Hope'

Whispers, Tears, Prayers and Hope

Reviewed by George Manos

12/5/2008

 

 

 I feel the following observations would be worth noting in this review:

 

“I received your book yesterday and finished it today, I had read many of the poems but found many new ones (or ones I had not read) as well.  Towards the end I felt the writing was reminiscent of the earthiness of Hemingway (I read a complete collection of his short stories), the feel he had for the common man and his bond with the earth and all myriad experiences people endure in this world.  What he put so perceptively into prose you have put into poetry, Ed.”

 

This is the type of collection that you can consider a slice of the daily ordeals of humanity; despondency, alienation, political and societal breakdown and malaise that devolve into the cultural and moral crises of suicide, substance abuse, domestic violence and includes international issues such as war, fatwa, and even suicide bombers, This may seem an overly sweeping list, but consider the statement from a person who is cited on the back cover jacket of Ed’s work:  “A friend of mine here at (sic.) University of Amman shared with me your poetry.  I was PLO (Palestinian Liberation Organization, editor’s note).  By stopping me you have saved many…” At the end of this collection, “Whispers, Tears, Prayers, and Hope,” the pages upon pages of comments by his readers corroborates the profundity, self-examination, remedial aspect and compassion of his poetry: On “Where Will You Be After”:  “Wow!  As a recovering alcoholic I can soooo relate!...”  On “My Greatest Horror (II)”:  WOW!  This is so moving!...My daughter is 15 and learning about the Holocaust in school right now…Thank you for educating the world on this cruel unfair time in our world…”  Ed’s work strikes a common chord in our humanity that is a rare gift and his use of poetry as the medium makes it particularly powerful and persuasive.  I want to end by observing this is not mere free-style, holistic, or blandly therapeutic verse, but a modern form of social, political, cultural, and moral critique that creates a new poetic genre in itself.  One may rightfully conclude that this style, both because of its originality and contribution to improving the human condition, should be considered for the highest award such as a Pulitzer Prize.  As Ed’s work has been so nominated, I give permission for this review to be used to support his nomination and with you the best, Ed! 

 

This was posted today by Grady Harp, one of the top reviewers on Amazon.com

 

Ed Roberts is one of those quiet folks who, without brouhaha or hype or inflated pomp, simply elects to share his thoughts gathered from observing life with a keen eye that have been mulled over until they casually spill onto the page as 'poems'. This collection of supportive thoughts and heartfelt caring advice is titled WHISPERS, TEARS, PRAYERS and HOPE and to attempt to define it further would defeat the concept of Roberts' intentions. He has found a colleague in Chase Von who wisely elected to publish this collection, and for those who are familiar with the publisher's own works (''YOUR CHANCE TO HEAR THE LAST PANTHER SPEAK' etc), the bond will make sense.

Knowing that this is one book the 'usual negative commenter team' will viciously attack should not prevent even the more sophisticated reader from exploring the pages of this book: a hefty dose of Ed Roberts' musings might resolve some of those angry people's drive to destroy other people's opportunity to make their own decisions. No, this is not 'great poetry' of polished form, cadence, or style. Those attributes, much as we love to encounter them in the form of works by TS Eliot, Auden et al, are not the goal of Ed Roberts. The pages of this book are filled with well structured condensed messages about struggling with alcohol, drugs, war, hate, family fragility, abuse, death, and questions about spirituality, tough choices such as right to live, the seemingly impossible attempts to aid hunger at home and abroad, and the saving of the planet, as well a some of the loveliest thoughts of beauty and passion and love available to the reader today.

So this collection of simple, straightforward, embracing thoughts serves as the kind of support we all need at one time or another. To put these poems in too critical a light would be a disservice. As in the author's words - 'Today the world stands in need of so many things/ My simple prayer/ Is that you might find at least a little of what you seek/ Here among the pages of my life'. WHISPERS, TEARS, PRAYERS and HOPE is a gift, a timely one, and it deserves to be read by everyone who has a human spirit. Grady Harp, December 8

 

 

COMMENTS FROM HIS READERS

2005-06-12 22:51:25
A Cure for the Past
The two voices of this poem are ones I have heard before. I listened to the first for way too long. Thank you for bringing back the second to me. One is only lost until they stop and find them self. Thank you for making this possible. I had a life once, a damn good one. I plan on taking this poem along with me as I try and get it back. Thank you for being a single light in the darkness. Without it, I would be lost.

2005-05-08 01:42:07
The Value of One Life
I was helping my daughter with a paper she is doing for school. She is writing on modern poetry and was given your site by her teacher. These words did something to me that 44 years of living and 18 years of education never have. You made me see slavery from the other side. I was born and raised in Mississippi. I learned a different version of history than most. I grew up trying to see the War from the South's point of view. This poem not only made me put my name in that book, it made me put Dana's as well. I would give my life for her, how could anyone ever assign a dollar amount to this???????????????????? I understand why her teacher sent my daughter to your site. I wish every child and a lot of us adults could be made to go there as well. I am a different man tonight. I just wanted to thank the man that made me this way

2005-04-05 01:29:50
Toys in Heaven
Mr. Roberts, you don't know how much these words mean to us right now. Our daughter Marissa died last Wednesday. She was 5. Cancer took her quickly but the wounds it left behind I am afraid may never heal. A friend of mine told me where to find this poem. Words will never express the comfort this poem can give to someone in our situation. I am not sure for whom this was written but tonight I feel God placed it here just for me. BLESS YOU

2005-03-28 16:57:42
5 Single Words
I found this poem yesterday, it brought a whole new meaning to Easter in my life. I was there, had everything planned. Well, almost everything. You gave me the courage and faith to deal with my problems instead of taking the easy way out. I will remember Easter now as my beginning as well. Bless you Ed

 

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ed_Roberts

Click above to go to Ed's Biography online at Wikipedia the Internet Encyclopedia.

A Link to Ed's Poetry Pages   Click Here

Ed Roberts is a native of Oklahoma City, Oklahoma.
He is the proud father of 2 sons, Adam and Alexander,one granddaughter, Caina, and one grandson,Noah, and currently is enjoying his 28th year of marriage to his wife, Letha.
Although he has been writing all of his life, he did not decide to publicly share his work until he encountered a life threatening illness in the year 2000.
His writing is influenced both by his long Oklahoman and Native American heritage as well as by a wide band of close friends spanning from several different countries.

His simple goal is
To change the world through poetry, even if it is but a small piece at a time.
To date, copies of his poems have appeared in 8-10 different countries.
He considers his greatest achievement, however, to have been a request for a single copy from a man that decided to quit drinking alcohol after reading the poem “ There Was a Man. “

“The fact that this man could see himself in this poem and decided to change
the viewpoint that he could relate to it from makes all of my efforts in writing worthwhile.”
Ed Roberts