On the long drive back home
Today was their day
I had a day once
Perfect in every way
Every minute detail
Burned forever in my mind
From the radiant smile
That shone from her face
As she began the walk
Down the aisle
To the way the setting sun
Reflected in the champagne glasses
To the evening that followed
But what I remember most
Was the constant
Beautiful smell
That became associated
With all my hopes and dreams
Becoming reality
The smell of the
Gardenia
Pinned to my tuxedo
I wore on that perfect day
The wonderful smell
That makes me want to cry
I had a day once
And before I knew it
It was night
Then it was over
Now it’s just
A sad day
Just like all the others since
And all the others to come
April 13, 2003
Manchester, NH
This entire poem came about from listening to the song “Comptine d’un Autre Ete, L’Apres Midi” from the Amelie soundtrack. It’s just a two-minute instrumental on the piano, but the first time listening to it today just brought about a flood of emotions…it is so amazing how a simple song can inspire someone in such a way. Earlier tonight, while driving from Boston to Manchester, I got thinking about a friend of mine who has a wedding coming up soon. I realized that I would have no one to go to with it, and how alone would it make me feel if I went to a wedding by myself. That hit me as one of the saddest things I could think of. What really hit me while writing this poem was what if this person getting married was your last good friend you had around? From there it quickly evolved into more of a personal reflection on how I’d feel being at such an event and thinking about how I was there once (on the marrying end, not the guest end). Not the nicest thing to think about, in fact it brought up a lot of pain writing this. It’s not the best thing to shy away from such thoughts and pretend that pain doesn’t exist, so long as you don’t live to relive the pain.
Cars Blur By
Thinking too much
About wanting to not
Be the one who’s alone
Hate being the odd one out
Everyone’s favorite third wheel
Wishing I could be the one to steal
Someone’s heart for once
Be the one who inspires
Wanting and passion and
Longing for no good reason
Other than the fact that they
Want and care about me
Been walking down that road
Over in the breakdown lane
For over a year now
Thumb extended
Cars blur by
No one stopping
No second-glancing
My arm’s getting tired
For all this thumbing
To try and get a ride
For a few miles
For a few states or
For a lifetime
I’ve walked backward
I’ve given up so many times
I’ve walked forward
I’ve written to pass the time
But I’ve found that
Hundreds of poems aren’t
Very good company
Or keep you warm at night
Sun up, sun down
It’s been the same thing
The constant sound
Of speeding traffic
Has been the soundtrack
Of my recent life
What I wouldn’t give
To get some amazing music
Back in my life
December 18, 2003
Manchester, NH
Off
Lunch Lady on the Prowl
Today was mac and cheese
Tomorrow is Salisbury steak
On the menu back home
Hanging on the fridge
In the darkened kitchen
In the darkened apartment
The one with the cats
No one home ‘cause she’s a
Lunch lady on the prowl
No more hairnets
No more students
No more plastic gloves
No more inhibitions
The night the music
Her dissolving social mores
All belong to her now
Cuttin’ loose on the dance floor
Lookin’ for a partner for tonight
Dancin’ like Salisbury steak day
Will never come ever again
Dancin’ like tomorrow
Will never come ever again
May 13, 2004
Manchester, NH
Last night I went to a bar to see a local cover band. They were really good, but due to the music they played (60’s and 70’s funk, soul, and rock), it was a much older crowd. There was a table of women sitting next to me who would get up and dance for certain songs. The really funny was that they all looked like they could be lunch ladies, which inspired this poem.
Picnic for One
Picnics are no fun
When they’re just for one
Something doesn’t feel right
Sitting on the blanket
Looking at the basket
When you’re all alone
I bet it looks strange as well
Oh well sucks to be them
Because they can’t join me
Because I’m happy here
And if I’m not then I’m
Going to fool myself
Until I think I am
And I’m going to have
A great time here today
At my picnic for one
No matter what anyone
Tries to tell me
No matter what anyone
Tries to say
October 14, 2003
Manchester, NH
The first two lines were in Line Ideas for a while. A kind of fun one in a weird way.
Light Abrasion
Light abrasion
Slight skipping
Or maybe Sarah
Is hiccupping
Making the fumbling
Towards ecstasy
A lot more awkward
Most likely the former
Is what’s going on
I think that the latter
Would be harder to explain
October 19, 2003
Manchester, NH
My copy of Sarah McLachlan’s Fumbling Towards Ecstasy has a scratch on it. Often on nights when I don’t have to get up early the next morning, I sleep with this CD playing on repeat.
Fiona
Maybe it’s the season
Filled with the leaves
And apples falling
All around me now
But the sound of Fiona
Is captivating and
Drawing me in
For repeated listens
I’m entranced by
The haunting voice
The sullen music
The entirety of it all
I take in the season of
The sooner twilight
The brisker weather
The heavier jackets
The warmer interiors
And enjoy Baileys
On ice while I’m
Sitting in slippers
Thinking those
Interesting thoughts
And appreciating
This time of year
I associate with her
October 22, 2003
Manchester, NH
Back when I lived in Pittsfield, Massachusetts, I used to have a five disc CD changer. During the fall and winter months,
I would almost always have both of the Fiona Apple CDs in there. That’s probably where my association with her music and the cooler months began. It seems so fitting though. When I hear her music, I think of sitting in a room where the only light comes from the flickering firelight of the fireplace in front of me while I sit in a comfortable chair while holding a warming beverage. I’ve never actually lived this scenario, but this is what her music makes me think of. It is so wonderfully amazing when music can completely take you away to another place and setting.
Epiphanal Pockets
Finding inspiration
In the little things
That are often overlooked
That are always ignored
By the busy sheeple
Intently obeying
Their self-imposed schedules
Oblivious to the countless
Epiphanal pockets
That are lightly sprinkled
Amidst the scenery
Of our lives
Like knives
They glimmer in the sun
Or poke me when I’m numb
And don't see them hidden
Like the beacons they are
Giving the inspiration
I need to create
I need to carve out
To insert the obvious into
My tiny little niche in the
Consciousness of society
March 19, 2004
Manchester, NH
I was emailing a friend who wanted to know where I get my ideas from and I just started writing this.
Wide Mahogany Frame
Wide mahogany frame
Hung above a matching desk
And other tasteful furnishings
In a hotel room that seems
Much too nice to be flying
The weathered Holiday Inn flag
Tiredly tattering out front
I set my bookmark in place
And really look at the three
Pictures like square islands
In a navy blue mat-like lake
Fenced in by the frame
This was the moment
An idea chose to strike
Inspiration for something cool
It was something I had to do
Hugely inspired
My brain on fire
So much thanks
To an unnaturally nice
Piece of hotel art
May 5, 2004
Providence, RI
I had to attend a regional general manager meeting out of state, so I stayed over the night before at a Holiday Inn. It looked crappy on the outside, so I expected the worst. The lobby area ended up being nice, but the room’s décor was what really impressed me. After seeing this framed picture(s), it gave me a great idea for a gift for someone I know.
Rumpus on the Floor
Rumpus on the floor
Darks and whites
Clean and dirty
Grays and colors
Intermingled
Tied and twisted
In an orgy
Of fabrics
Poly with cotton
Blends on Rayon
No gentle cycle here
Snuggle Bear had better
Stay away from the fray
This really isn’t for him
Not really for me either
So I’m going to leave
Them up to their own
Non-delicate deviousness
And let them do it alone
October 26, 2003
Manchester, NH
While getting ready for bed last night, I took a long look at the giant heap of clothes on the floor and had written the following on a piece of paper…
“Clean and dirty
In an orgy
Of fabrics
Poly on cotton
? with rayon”
When I got up this morning I gave it personality.
Peripheral Element
Plants provide such a
Peripheral element
To the settings
To the surroundings
Always on the edge
Always out of sight
Always hiding there
Here in plain sight
Yet they fill the role
Bringing a lushness
Bringing a fullness
To the room they’re
Sitting in hiding in
Only directly being
Seen or noticed when
I forget to water them
September 2, 2003
Manchester, NH
A month ago I bought a plant. It was a leafy green plant from the supermarket down the street that I got for only $5. Later, I realized that when I’m busy looking at something else in my room, I always see the plant out of the corner of my eye. While I might not realize it, it really adds fullness and a living aspect to the room.
Successful Regifting
I've seen the disappointment
Of a good friend receiving
Something poorly chosen
A perplexed look frozen
I know what you’re thinking
That the giver just bought
A present with no thought
And now you’re thanking
Them for such a nice gift
Not wanting to cause a rift
Two days later I’m watching
The offending gift rewrapped
Later it’s again unwrapped
By someone who is unknowing
But this time it’s a perfect fit
The new owner really loves it
Hooray for successful regifting
Since I've seen the life cycle
And watched it come full circle
From a forced careless receiving
To your more thoughtful re-giving
Finding the right person for the gift
In hand, turns out to be a gift in itself
January 7, 2004
Manchester, NH
I watched this in action a few weeks ago.
Shy Day
Once every four years
The terribly shy day
Builds up the courage
To come out and play
After much thinking
I finally figured out why
The shy day is that way
Because it’s being stalked
It seems whenever it arrives
All quiet and unassuming
On February twenty-ninth
It’s always being followed
A few months down the road
By the annoyingly brash, garish,
And hopelessly dishonest
Election Day
So I no longer lay blame
On the shy day
For wanting to be that way
I think I’d do the same
If I was being stalked
By the three-ring circus
That tries to pass
For a notable day
February 29, 2004
Manchester, NH
Hooray for leap-year!
Rumble Strip
In the car late at night
Driving the Mass Pike
Sorta necessary in a way
For some to keep awake
To keep them from drifting
To keep them from crashing
I personally think it’s a lot of fun
To move to the side and drive over
I like to hear it “RRRRRRRRRRR,”
Feeling proud
Letting it rip
Playing it loud
Rumble strip
October 23, 2003
Manchester, NH
RRRRRRRR!
Glimmers like Gold
Glimmers like gold
In the blackness of night
A jagged criss-cross unfolds
Growing around the edge
Of an unseen sea
Dark as the night sky
Up in which is me
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Looking down below
On the great city
Passing by so slowly
Not stopping there
But heading way beyond
To great friends far away
But I look until the gold
Slips by under the wing
I'll have to visit someday
Smile and return to my book
December 25, 2003
Above Chicago
Seeing Chicago from a plane on Christmas night was truly a beautiful sight.
Five Hours in Seattle
Freshly landed
Still on the runway
Looking at tracks
Cut through new snow
Five hour layover
Sitting on my mind
Few ideas
Fewer plans
Will I buy a book
And spend the time
Reading away the hours
Or will I hit the subway
And make my way
Downtown to dinner
And the Space Needle
The seatbelt lights go off
I gather myself and my things
Out onto the cold curb
Snow falling down
I’m suddenly torn
Stay here
Eat dinner
Read a book
Listen to music
That would be easy
That would be comfy
Then I realized the day
First of the year
Is this the precedent
I want to set for myself
I’m in a city and state
I’ve never been to
And I was thinking
And about to choose
To take the cowardly route
I mustered up my
Post divorce motto
Said “Ah, fuck it,”
Jumped on a bus
And exploring I went
January 1, 2004
Seattle, WA
Tried and Sampled
Relying on memories
Really isn't for me
Since they hold nothing
And always try thwarting
All my best intentions
So instead I believe in
Living life like a buffet
Sampling something
Different every day
Returning nothing
Untouched or
Unsampled for
We all pay the same
Price in the end and
When the day is done
Would I rather reminisce
On what I saw was available
Or what I tried and sampled
Since vicarious existence
Is no match for
Real living experience
January 31, 2004
Andover, MA
I was up until about 2am in the early morning of January 31 reading You Shall Know Our Velocity! by Dave Eggers. After I had stopped reading for the night and turned over to go to sleep, this was clamoring to be written, so I grabbed my Palm and tried to keep up.
About the author
Eric Nixon is the author of a collection of poetry, Anything but Dreams, and three short stories, Retribution on a Jetpack, Incident on the Hennepin, and Plenty of Time. He is currently finishing his full-length science fiction novel, 2492.
Eric lives in Massachusetts with his wife, Kari Chapin, author of the bestselling book, The Handmade Marketplace: How To Sell Your Crafts Locally, Globally, and Online.