poem

Goodbye Is Not An Option

This is a collaboration poem, I’ve worked on lately for a funeral service to say goodbye to a husband of forty two years: we came to the conclusion that it’s just not possible.

We will always be together,
Just waiting here apart
You will always have the most of me
Within your loving heart

We will always be together,
Even though we are apart
I will think of you, and talk to you
You rest inside my heart

You had a one way ticket, up into the sky
But your ride came early, I really don’t know why
They took the man I wanted, into the clouds above
and now I miss you terribly,
My husband, friend, my love.

A Nostalgic Farewell

I watch from my window, as you prepare to leave me. The streetlight

illuminates you in a hazy orange gloom, as you banish frost from your windscreen

My window, smirched from warm breath saves me from seeing that look you wear

Fumbling with your keys whilst you wrestle with your overnight bag

Your Caribbean blue charger snorts impatiently at the charade.

I press my hand against the cold glass; you wave goodbye.

The Monster Within

It calls to me at night,
The beast shrouded in darkness.
Silent calls echoing in my mind,
Reverberate through my heart
And pierce my soul.

Each night he lays,
At the foot of my bed,
Waiting until my thoughts drift.
Only then will he pounce,
Tearing ideas, limb from limb
Allowing only tattered dreams.

Then in the morning, he sleeps.
Content in his role, fulfilled
Leaving me only with fragments.
Scorched cinders of denial.
Crushed bastions of brilliance,
Fallen around my feet.

 

Finding the way

I realise that my latest writing has seemed a little on the darker side so I wanted to bump one up that shows I’m still in a hopeful mood really … mostly 😉

Crossing the threshold

You trespass, on the edge of my borders
Tiptoe through the barricades
And hover at the frame

After patting down the dirt
Covering your tracks
In fear of being discovered

I find you, alarmed
A hare, dazed in the headlights
Frozen, but for the consistent twitch

In the distance sirens wail out a warning
The gate gapes wide in the wind
Yet still we persist

In that moment existence is shattered
I welcome the oncoming storm.

The light doth shine

It shines – reluctantly
Gold piping around edges
curved lines:softened by the glow
mesmerised red eyes
drawn like moths
to a wide open plain
visible and raw
for all the room to see
with a limited time
patches of rainbow fog
just another symptom
another reason
for aversion
A way not to see
the blindingly obvious

In Shadow of the Sun

Sometimes I am struck by the sheer futility of it all

Crossing out days in the calendar as if they were nothing

Allowing the sands of time to slip away

Watching the rising and setting of the sun

Knowing that in each lost day drowns a moment

An imagined space in fate forfeited, passed over

 

Some days there is anger, a hope that it will soon be over

A growing sadness that encourages me to leave it all

To walk away and seize the moment

But the fear of uncertainty, of being left with nothing

To be naked to elements, left to dry in the sun

These thoughts restrain me, stop me running away

 

Instead I walk a precarious line; he’d rather look away

Never wanting to face that its over

Seeing us as youngsters, playing in the sun

Willing to deny the truth, trying to forget it all

Attempting to believe the agitation is nothing

Not allowing emotion, not for a moment.

 

But it’s true, we are here in this moment

I still haven’t given anything away

Even at this juncture, I offer nothing

Except silent acknowledgement it’s over

I can offer no comfort at all

For I am every evil under the sun

 

I contemplate this in bed, awaiting the rising of the sun

My mind a kinetoscope, replaying every moment

Squeezing life from every last memory, I drink them all

Chasing down fragments, not allowing any to slip away

Nailing down reason, trawling through thoughts over and over

Torturing feelings to confirm there is nothing

 

Nothing more to hold me, no person, no thing

Save the inexplicable guilt of hurting a mothers son

My head so thick and weary, as though harbouring a hangover

Could it be my courage finally gathers momentum?

I should vault the bandwagon straightaway

To hell with my wherewithal

 

Who cares if I have nothing, I’d be open to it all

Then when my life expires, they can talk of this moment

And extol, I didn’t let the sun settle and let myself slip away