December 7, 2014

 

 

What pent up rage

and unexplained plight,

exists in darkened depths

never seeing light.

 

Such frustrated anguish

from being misunderstood,

clogs up the mind,

like slurried mud.

 

The safety valve

that is key to peace,

needs sensitive handling,

allowing pain release.

 

The freedom to be

who you want to be,

is the greatest gift,

from life’s giving tree.

 

 

 

 

 

He loved the sea.

He worked on the sea.

And finally was

off loaded at sea.

Ten fathoms deep,

where gentle waves weep,

and tropical mermaids

watch him at sleep.

 

 

December 3, 2014

 

 

I was given her ‘5 year Diary’

many decades after she died.

My name appeared quite often;

a tear came to my eye.

 

She wrote about her children;

all five were married then.

Some would visit daily,

and others, now and then.

 

But the thing so overwhelming,

I discovered as I read;

each one she thought of lovingly,

whilst lying in her bed.

 

It was her nightly ritual,

before switching off the light:

Sometimes she’d had ‘a good day’,

whilst other’s, were ‘just alright’.

 

But it was a spooky feeling

to re-live her hourly routine.

Especially on days I’d visited, and

‘hadn’t stayed long’: I felt so mean!

 

What I’d give to roll back time,

and sit with Gran that extra hour,

when I dashed in after school,

and watched her sieving flour.

 

And see Gramps in his armchair,

taking tobacco from his pouch.

His pipe was his great pleasure,

but had me rising from the couch.

 

As the smell from his old pipe,

would waft over past my nose.

He knew each time I did it,

the reason why I rose!

 

And he knew my exit imminent,

when the smoke caused me to cough.

I’d make up some weak excuse, like,

‘I have to walk the dog – I’m off.

 

After two and a half years in,

Gran’s diary entries all but stopped,

as Gramps went into hospital,

and her writing instinct dropped.

 

The saddest page of the diary

is when she put ‘My lad has gone’.

They’d been together for sixty years;

she had no strength to carry on.

 

She said ‘I’ve never missed his birthday’,

‘and I’m not missing it today’.

And after breakfast, without warning,

she too, peacefully passed away.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

December 2, 2014

 

 

Haunted paths

of Christmas past,

and old romance

never meant to last.

 

Days of merriment,

and high jinx.

Thoughts drifting back

to that party minx.

 

When ‘Bohemian Rhapsody’

rang out through the air,

and the only place

to be, was there.

 

 

December 1, 2014

 

 

His hands were very beautiful.

His feet were perfect too.

His teeth, screwed in, but passable.

His eyes the deepest blue.

 

His smile was just adorable.

His nostrils flared when he lied.

But he was right for her in every way,

and her choice for the long term ride.

 

 

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