Roy W. Backes – Poetry

Keeping the Dreams Alive
				(Guardian Angel series)


In the dark of a filthy basement
Surrounded by the odor of waste and ruin
Sits an angel.
Its wing placed under the body
Of a sleeping child,
Protecting it from the cold of the concrete floor.
The angel softly strokes the back
Of the starving, abused child
And quietly hums a simple tune
Trying to keep the child safe
In the peaceful world of dreams
And away from the pain
Inflicted by the waking world.

Roy W. Backes
© 2000

Secrets

We all love a secret.
We love to tell secrets.
We love to hear secrets.
We all want to know secrets.
However,
We all spend our lives avoiding the big secret.

We don’t want to know that secret.
We don’t want to hear that secret.
We don’t want to learn that secret.
Because we all know
Once you learn that secret
There is no turning back.
There is no way to share that secret.
There is no one to tell that secret to.
There is no one to hear that secret.
There is no way to unknow
That secret.

We all love a secret.
All but one.

Roy W. Backes
© 2015

8.5” x 11”

In the grand scheme of things
8.5 inches by 11 inches
Isn’t a very large area.

But oh, how large it looms
When it is just sitting there,
All blank
All white
Just waiting to be filled.


Roy W. Backes
© 2016

The Saddest Thing

We had a good time together,
You and I,
While it lasted.
But it ended many years ago
When you packed up and
Left me behind.

It’s been years now
Since we’ve seen each other.
Until today.
Today I saw you on the beach,
Looking trim and tanned.
I was happy to see you,
The pain of your leaving
Slowly fading from my memory.
I almost walked up and said hello
Till I saw that smile cover your face
And your eyes light up
Like they used to when you saw me.

I sat there and watched you.
Settled, happy, with someone you love,
Till I could take no more.
Looking back on today
I had to admit to myself
That the saddest thing
About seeing you,
Was seeing you so happy.

Roy W. Backes
© 2021

Black Tears

I’m not sure if I even have
The right to comment on this.
But, my heart breaks each
And every time another black
Person is killed by violence.
My heart breaks when I watch
Yet another black family shed
Black tears at another needless funeral.

After the last killing
I found myself in tears.
Tears that rolled down my cheeks,
That dropped onto my white shirt
Leaving black stains
That no bleach can remove.

I found myself crying
Black tears.

Roy W. Backes
© 2021

Serenading the Setting Sun

Gray sky.
It’s been a dreary day
Here by the sea.
As I walk along the marina,
From out over the water
I hear the sound of a violin.
I look out over the water
And see a man, of average build and girth,
Standing on the roof of his boat
As it gently rocks in the water.
He faces the setting sun,
A hazy orange circle in the gray sky.
The violin tucked tightly under his chin
His head bent to the left
He plays beautiful music,
Content,
As he serenades the setting sun.

Roy W. Backes
© 1996

One Love

She had plenty of lovers
But only a few true loves.
Some loves she walked away from,
Other loves walked away from her.

She had plenty of lovers
But only a few true loves.
Some of these loves she now wishes
She had back.
Some of these loves she now wishes
She had worked harder at.

She had plenty of lovers
But only a few true loves.
None of them lasted.
Her choice mostly.
She now wishes she had one back.

One love to sit with her.
One love to hold her hand.
One love to say goodbye to.
One love
To be by her side,
On this,
Her final journey.

Roy W. Backes
© 2021

The Confessional

Stood in a church today
And stared at the confessional.
That small booth for Catholic sinners.
That small booth where you kneel
And wait for the small door to slide open
So you can say, “Forgive me Father,
For I have sinned”’
That small booth where you
Can tell all or tell a lie.
That small booth where
Your sins are forgiven,
Only if you are really, truly sorry.
That small booth where
Every time I entered
I felt that my sins
Were not worth the time of absolution.

Roy W. Backes
© 2011

My Night Light Glows

My night light glows
Holding the darkness at bay,
While I lay warm and comfy
Under my quilt (That grandma made).
I wait for my dreams to come
And take me off
To worlds far and wide.
Worlds known only to me
And the inside of my eyes.

Roy W. Backes
© 1992

Banging on My Door

Bang. Bang. Bang.
I hear you banging on my door.
My door that is strong and solid.
My door that is closed to your beat.

Bang. Bang. Bang.
I feel you banging on my door.
My door that will never open
To your heart ever again.

Bang. Bang. Bang.
I see you banging on my door.
My door that hides my tears.
My door that protects my heart.

Bang. Bang. Bang.
I feel the pounding of my heart.
My heart that once loved you.
My heart, now cold and silent.

Bang. Bang. Bang.
I hear you banging on my door.
My door that is locked tight
My door that has no key.

Bang. Bang. Bang.
I see you banging on my door.
I feel my heart banging in my chest.
I hear your screams for mercy,
While I sit here safe and sound
Behind my door.

Bang. Bang. Bang.
Bang. Bang. 
Bang. 

Roy W. Backes
© 2021