death

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.

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A Birthday to remember

My sister, today, should be forty

There will be cake and jelly
And small floury rolls
Filled with tinned salmon
Or doorstops of cheese
The table is always lined
With her favourites
Without question
Without fear
Sausage rolls set like dominoes
Pork pie soldiers guarding
Pink pickled cabbage
Half a grapefruit smothered by foil
Disguised: an edible hedgehog
Salad will arrive naked, as usual
Cherry tomatoes piggybacking
Pickled onions on pogo sticks
The trifle taking centre stage
Alongside a neglected black forest gateau
In the background a fence of Lambrini
Hated by all except her
And so they watch defiantly – covered in dust
Until the sad charade is over
And leftover morsels are wrapped
And pressed
Into tubs, for another day

Today my sister should be forty
And yet she is here, but I am not

Kiss of Death

With soft fleshy lips
pressed hard
full against my mouth
He could suffocate me with one kiss
Yet I would die happy
With a joyous tingling inside
Willing him to keep his luscious lips on mine

When his hands firmly hold my neck
Thumb trailing over my jaw
Fingers curling around my throat
He could halt the intake of air
Yet suffocation would bring only desire
As I sigh and die
By his warm hands

A glimpse into Darkside Thursday

It lay before him

The charred remains of a hollowed out corpse. He looked down in bewilderment, eyes wide and frantic and he turned to see the empty auditorium.
I watched him in the dim light, his face awash with confusion. I almost felt sorry for him as he sunk to his knees and placed his head in his hands……almost.

If I hold my breath and strain my ears I can just about hear the low sobs. The slow gulps of realisation catching in his throat, the raspy whisper of his voice repeatedly stating ‘what have I done, what have I done’. Like a mantra he repeats this to himself, rocking back and forth as if this will somehow force him to regain his memory. Clearly this is not going to work for him, I chuckle to myself as I push up the lever.
With a click and a whirring the spotlight hits the stage highlighting the mutilated corpse and forcing him to spring to his feet.

“Who is it? Who’s there?”

His face drained of colour as he frantically looked around. Searching for an answer, searching for the spotlight’s operator…searching for me

Something for Darkside Thursday – To catch up with Andy’s latest darkside then click HERE