Tag Archives: sadness

Lachrymose

so frail now

your fingertips in mine

supported gently

parchment paper skin

venous rivers slow, tepid within

..

as the sand slowly sifts

i squeeze

i try to halt the final grains, yet

this maudlin hourglass only drains

to somber clock tick

sentry gated soldiered seconds fall

the war is over

all is lost

that is all

..

a last dawn

this last day

as curtains part

your light slips away

 

The last word

what shall be your last word spoken

what shall be that last word said

will there be a soft one listening

there beside your final bed

..

or if you would leave on some non descript day

will the word be a mumble as you rush on your way

as you kiss her, fleeting, on a passing cheek

“pickup my dry cleaning, it’s been over a week”

..

week?

..

so much hurrah over baby’s first word

yet of grandad’s last, who knows; no one heard

no one leaned into the crackles of fading breath

to decipher his utterances

welcoming

death

..

what shall be your last word spoken

what shall be that last word said

speak as if that last day arrives

so fleeting is life

on fragile thread

..

For Soriah…. I was listening x

Float

i am at one with a morose mist

it creeps over, draping

it’s moist tendrils

merge, shaping

shivered fingertips

to settle

on prostrate limbs

so inviting this mellow of

malleable depths

..

lament not

these quagmired proclivities

i chose this home of drawbridge splinters

of fenland, forest and fortress

to nestle your frigid winters

and linger in murky,

mired martyrdom

a stagnant slimed moat

together beneath ice sheet

our cloistral bodies still float

In Dreams 

Haunted am I
by your face in dreams

where lips move but I cannot hear sound 

and even if utterances profound 

my heart would mute the words 

to a faint melodic hum

a staccato stutter 
So you hold up cards

glyphic serif font 

Bold

but my heart shields my eyes

her strong hands I cannot prise

only cracks of daylight

fuse 

with  

fading goodbyes 

A branch’s tale

I sit amongst fallen leaves

achingly curled dry into final poses

over scattered shrivel of scarlet roses

the sun warmth now diminished

as my own

 

what of the diurnal promises of spring?

when I bent proud

grimacing through hail storm sting

just to feel the graces of your summer

 

resplendent in my naïveté

with buds this passion was born

till branch from tree

was

torn

Hollow Tree

with creaking branch

against gentle breeze

I stifle wayward memory

with sullen, wooden ease

 

for I am but a hollowed trunk

core charred from flame on high

I sought the thrill of lightning strike

stiff branched, I’d taunt the sky

 

my splintered bark now falls to ground

though painful peel, I’ll make no sound

and gnarled roots under ashen soil

tremble deep from termite toil