Roy W. Backes – Poetry

Good and Evil

There always seems to be
Two opposing forces working
Together in life.
Good and Evil.
Light and Dark.
Back and Forth.
In and Out.
When Evil walks into a classroom
With his gun ablaze
Shooting innocent beings
Over and over
Is Good to be found in
The room as well?

Maybe that is why so many
Of these Evil killers commit suicide.
Maybe it is Good that finally gains control
And puts the gun to the killer’s head and
Pulls the trigger.
Maybe.

Roy W. Backes
© 2014

Distress

All 200 of us, trapped on an airplane,
Strain to hear the steward’s safety instructions
Over the wail of a distressed child.
As we gain altitude, I can feel
The collective tension of all of us
Continue to rise.
Long after we are cruising
At 34,000 feet, the child’s wail continues.
There is something about the sound
Of a crying child in obvious distress
That has a profound effect on us.
We want to help.
We want to comfort.
We want quiet.
We want peace.
Trapped on an airplane at 34,000 feet
We want to have a single thought
That does not get drowned out
By the wail of a child in distress.

Roy W. Backes
© 2014

Prayers Gathering Dust

Lonely Marionette hangs
Suspended above the earth
Across the room from Christ
Hanging on His cross.
He has prayed to this Christ
For many years,
But nothing has changed.
He hangs too far away
To see his prayers
Gathering dust
On Christ’s thorny crown.

Roy W. Backes
© 1994

The Alley

The Alley
You know, that place out back.
That place that isn’t 
A road, or a lane, or an avenue,
Or even a street,
But only a ‘way’.
That place where your trash sits,
That place where workers sit
To steal a smoke
Or maybe a toke.
That place of fences and gates.
That place used only for shortcuts
From one place to another.

The Alley
You know, that place out back.
That place where we don’t sweep up.
That place with no sidewalks
And minimal lighting.
That place where the air is pungent
With the odor of rotting fruit or dried piss.

The Alley
You know, that place out back.
That place we kindly call a ‘way’.
That place we all know
But where none of us go.

Roy W. Backes
© 2021

Summer Storm

A storm struck my neighborhood last night
Stripping leaves off the trees,
Ripping tiles off of rooftops,
Blowing roofs off of houses.
The trees are still standing, wounded,
But stripped naked and bare.

This morning I stood in the street
Stunned and speechless, staring at the trees
Not seeing a single leaf anywhere.
They were all gone, never to give shade again.

I stood in the morning sun
And prayed that the trees would survive.
Every day I prayed.
I prayed for weeks.
I would not give up hope.

Hope kept me strong
Until finally the trees sprouted
Soft green buds again.

Today I looked into the face of the sun,
Gave thanks,
And smiled in anticipation 
Of another shady day.


Roy W. Backes
© 2007

The Train West

I’m standing on the East Coast
Waiting to board a West Coast train.
Who knows how long the trip will be.
No matter.
I look forward to the long luxurious ride.
I look forward to the clack, clack of the wheels
On the track,
Hypnotic music to my ears.
I look forward to the periodic
Blow of the horn as we pass
Through town after town.
Each whistle a tonic for my soul.
I look forward to the colors of
The passing landscapes,
A feast for my eyes.
Who knows how long this trip will be.
No matter.
I’ll just sit back and enjoy
The ride toward the setting sun
And it’s golden reflection
On the bright blue sea.

Roy W. Backes
© 2020

Anticipation and Expectation

They say you can’t go back.
They say you can’t get “it” back.
That feeling of anticipation
That feeling of expectation.
They say you can’t go back.

I went back.
Back to my old neighborhood,
Back through my memories,
Back to my youth.
I went back to my life
That was full of anticipation
And expectation.
I went back to my memories.
I went back willingly
With a smile on my face
And came away full of
Anticipation and expectation
Of the future.
Full of moments
That will become memories,
That I can, in my own time,
Go back and visit
Once again, willingly,
With a smile on my face.

I look forward to going back again
With great anticipation and expectation.

Roy W. Backes
© 2019

Alone in My Bed

Alone in my bed
Between two chilly sheets
I try to generate some body heat.

Alone in my bed
I imagine your smooth curved body,
Your perfumed smell,
Your loving presence.
Heat arrives.

I sleep!

Roy W. Backes  
© 1986

March Wind

The wind,
Blowing
Gusting
Lifting my hair from my head.
If I had a hat it would
Snatch it like an overgrown bully.

The wind,
Blowing
Gusting
Dusting off the layers of silt
That gathered over the winter
Under so much overheated air.

The wind,
Blowing
Gusting
Guiding me into spring.
Escorting me toward summer
Like a long-lost friend
With a sunny smile and
A promise of warmth.

Roy W. Backes
© 2021

Stumbling

As I weave my way
Through this intricate maze
I keep my eye on the sun,
Aiming west when I can.
With my eyes at the sky
I stumble quite a bit,
Stubbing my toes and 
Scraping my knees.,

The surprise around each bend
Is what keeps me going.
I never know what I may find,
But going through the obstacle
Or climbing over the barricade
Drives me forward.

Even though my knees are bleeding
And my legs are tired
I move forward,
Toward the western sun,
With a joyous anticipation
Of the next turn
Of the next bend
Of the next obstruction.

Roy W. Backes
© 2007