The moment I got a chance I went to a bar…

And found a man who was a replica of you,

Your doppelganger actually:

Your face, your hair, your physique,

And I had him make love to me,

The exact same way you had described it,

In your letters,

Even including me reaching back,

To you – I mean him – for a kiss.

It was supposed to,

Turn back the clock,

To you – it didn’t,

It was supposed to be,

The pinnacle of my life;

The most telling,

Moment in my history.

It wasn’t.

agirlclock

Where Love Goes To Die:

I didn’t know that the disease in your mind,

Would become gradually worse as we aged.

 

We were supposed to grow old together,

You were my best friend!

 

But I didn’t recognise you anymore,

I didn’t feel safe – I chose life.

 

In my heart I will always be married to you,

And only you, until the day I die.

 

She Sleeps With The Light On…

. . . Just in case,

The night is still,

There’s not a sound,

Except the rumbling of a distant truck,

Which propels her into a memory;

It was of the time when she had her babies,

A marriage bed full of passion, youth & hope,

It was a time long before these lean times.

 

She sleeps with the light on because . . .

The phone might ring;

The Angel of Death in Her chariot,

Has swept down again, mercilessly and,

In her cruel and twisted way has,

Extracted another of her loved ones.

 

She sleeps with the light on,

So that the memory of her lost loves,

Doesn’t overwhelm her,

Because they can’t – you know – if you have the light on,

The memory of the contour’s of their bodies,

Their gentle or wild thrusts,

Their whispered indulgences,

All held at bay.

 

She sleeps with the light on,

To stop the snoring in the empty room,

The footsteps on the hallway boards,

The growling from the ceiling,

The ghosts remain invisible and can’t see you,

Or hurt you with the light on.

 

She sleeps with the light on,

So that if she wakes with a night terror,

She will instantly see her lovely things around her,

And, after some time,

Gain some comfort and soothe herself back to sleep.

 

She sleeps with the light on,

Because she doesn’t know what awaits her in the black dimension;

Dreams of babies long gone,

Lovers lost, souls removed from her life by death,

Quick as a flash and still half in slumber,

She can grab her pencil & paper,

And jot down the rhymes – such as this one – as they come to her at 3am.

umbr

 

 

 

 

 

 

Of Ponds & Balmy Nights:

He approves of almost everything about her,

And enjoys being her hero,

So when she says she needs time,

To concentrate on her relationship with her,

He holds her so tightly that it almost hurts,

She knows he’ll always be there if she changes her mind,

“Don’t sit by the pond without me, particularly on those balmy nights!”

He will anyway,

She knows it.

 

Mr Wordsmith:

She liked to “rescue” the hopeless cases,

Or that was what she was told anyway,

But also, he had to have a way with words,

To read her soul, to woo her back as she was walking away,

Reminisce over the good times,

Talk to her about nothing, in particular, to relax her,

Gratefully receive her mementos of love (poetry mainly),

If all of these boxes were checked, then yes, she’d take it!

He would become the latest soon-to-be ex,

Completely worthy of her love.

man and brain

 

 

Sunshine on a cloudy day:

I knew you before I read your words,

I sensed your spirit and spoke with you,

Before ever I saw your name,

And there you were shining like a ray of sunshine,

“Don’t get too carried away, though” I told myself,

“Life is still life, after all,”

This dark night of the soul has me drowning in plasma,

The scream from my soul piercing,

The eardrums of the Angels above Earth,

And I’m numb – so grotesquely numb,

. . . and there you were.

girl0954

 

 

The Artist’s Way:

She gave her only tomato to her son,

It’s ok,

She’d forgotten how they tasted anyway,

Her poor, thin body was eating itself,

But her audience liked her poem,

So that was something,

Can one live off adulation alone?

crone by leon rogers

 

Little Boy Lost:

My little brother,

Lost at sea,

My little brother,

Come back to me,

Where could he have gone?

Where could he be?

He’s knocked out with amnesia,

All these years; ten and three,

(and not eaten by sharks after all),

Or faked his own death maybe,

Swim little brother,

Swim home to me!

Or maybe it’s time I start to see,

The sea wants what she wants,

Doesn’t she?

She’s not worried about the sorrow,

Felt by you and me.

lost at sea

 

 

Winter dreams:

The way we were – dream theme song

She hears snoring in the next room,

But there’s no-one there,

Is it the ghost of him, him, him or him?

But before that she had awoken from a dream,

About her lost love,

It had the saddest theme song,

But even before that,

Before sleep,

She had written a poem about her dead brother,

This dark night of the soul,

Is taking ever so long,

And she still feels nothing …

girl leaving gif carmen aragon

 

Is anybody out there?

She’s watching over me;

My baby girl who thinks,

That because I disposed of her,

That I despised her.

 

She watches over me until I’m bones on the ground

girl and eye