Farewell To Daniel

Bleak sky, grey and menacing, on this winter’s morn

Icicles and snow blanket the earth

Birds are silent showing great respect; they just bow their heads

To honour his spirit now at peace

Too young and vital to depart this world

How sad to witness his family mourn – the Angels now will take good care

To protect his ‘being’ somewhere in the universe

We will remember him fondly as we say goodbye

Our glasses we will raise as high as the sky

We will watch you being embraced and cocooned

As the Angels lift you gently into their arms

Your friends will look after your dear wife

We will share our memories today with her

Don’t worry, Daniel, we will nurture her through this journey…

 

 

 

 

BEAUTIFUL HEART

BEAUTIFUL HEART
Misunderstood by her peers at times – they don’t know her like I do
She’s like a newborn baby – as pure as gold
A sapling waiting to burst
A Philanthropist in the making – Socrates blind hope, pouring of her thoughts freely
Infectious smile and a rainbow of pretty colours
A breath of fresh air – unaffected, and yet, sometimes wild
Her antics are funny and a bit wacky
A mass of human goodness who would sacrifice her heart for the underdog
Each brave soldier laid to rest in the Somme – a terrible war. She stood at their graves and wept.
Her understanding of pain, and others’ sorrow and misfortune, is rare in one so young
Her expression of love is abundant, a scattering of bright stars from the abyss
Maybe she’s a carnation of a Celestial Soul, not from now, from then
Too knowing for a child
Her talents are endless, high jump, low jump, this and that
With a voice like an Angel and yet, she’s humble and full of self-doubt
Her selfless love is our salvation
We are blessed to have her in our lives

Leslie

I cannot stand at your grave and weep
The priest praying and committing your decaying corpse into the earth
I didn’t know you that well, how could I, when you were distant and cold
Your doting mother adored you, even though your cruel and demented mind hurt her
No bond between us even though we were from the same mould
Maybe your madness was not your fault and I was too closed to understand
I empathise with your family at their loss, but, I cannot grieve for you
I can only pray for your soul to be nourished, made whole, and pure
As it was before the journey into your Mother’s womb…

THE GRAVEYARD

Dying Daffodils danced a slow dance in the graveyard today
I observed the changing of seasons, the yellow and white lovers’ swayed as their
energy began to fade. Making way for the next cycle of summer blooms
The walk through the village burial ground was quiet and calm
The headstones stood like temples – epitaphs stating their place on earth
The church door was open; unlikely in these times of lead thieves
Smell of must and old bones – no priest in sight
I sat and contemplated my day, my week, my life
Fragments of the past consumed my thoughts
The prodigal son – the one love; the only love
I stumbled to a pew in god’s house. I couldn’t see him. Was he hiding from all the sinners?
Hands clasped I offered myself in prayer.
He wasn’t home…

EPIPTHANY

DEPRIVED OF REST AND HOPE SHE SAT IN HER CORNER CRUMPLED LIKE A BED SHEET, JUST LIKE HER MOTHER USED TO.

DEEP SUNKEN EYES AND SALLOW SKIN, HAIR KNOTTED AND SMELLING OF SMOKE AND LIQUOR.

USED NEEDLES SCATTERED ACROSS HER HELL-HOLE; SHE KNEW NO BETTER.

BETH WAS LONG GONE; THEY CAME AND TOOK HER AWAY ONE GREY JANUARY DAY.

SCREAMING LIKE A BANSHEE; MY CHILD, MY CHILD.

SUNDAY WAS ALWAYS A BAD DAY; NO ONE CAME AND NO ONE CARED.

HER LIFE BEFORE HAD BEEN FULL OF TRIALS AND TRIBULATIONS BUT, SHE WAS HAPPY.

SHE SERVED HER PURPOSE AS A WIFE AND MOTHER. MEMORY FADED NOW. LIFE HAS BECOME A CURSE.

TAKE THIS POOR SOUL BACK TO BEFORE CONCEPTION. RE-CREATE HER DNA – MAKE HER WHOLE AGAIN.

THE RAIN PATTERED ON THE BROKEN WINDOWS, THE ROAR OF THE ROAD OUTSIDE WAS DEAFENING.

HEAD BOWED INTO HER SUNKEN CHEST, SHE CLASPED HER HANDS TOGETHER IN PRAYER AND ASKED FOR A SIGN.

SILENCE, LIKE A GRAVEYARD…UNTIL, DEEP INSIDE HER SUB-CONSCIENCE SHE HEARD A CELESTIAL VOICE. LOOK WITHIN YOUR SOUL FOR THE

ANSWER…

DEMENTIA

She bears the scars of the ravages of age and addled brain
The phone will ring – a voice I do not recognise
Hello, is that Carolynn, or Carolynn’s mother?
Then realise I’ve heard this voice before
Her name is Julie; the widow of an eminent writer, so she says
Mis-dialled again; I’m too busy to talk I have a busy life to lead
She is becoming an irritant, but then…
I listen to her story – a life of sheer happiness in the past, and now, misery and isolation
She mumbles a thank you dear for contacting Derek for me
I thought he wrote 40 books, but you say 30
Are you going to America to work, or did you say Australia?
I’m not very well again she whispers in my ear. How are you dear is that Carolynn or
Carolynn’s mother?
It’s the second time my doctor has thrown me down the stairs
My house is in chaos – when are you coming over to sort it out?
I can’t find Derek’s old manuscripts and he wrote 40 books you know
I reply in a tender voice; don’t worry I’m sure Derek wrote 40 books, just as you say
I place the receiver on its cradle and wipe a tear from my eye…I have never met Julie…