You were a whirlwind
of hair, scent and sorrow;
I cannot forget you.
Category: death
Very Short Story: Strip
You strip the house of everything that reminds you of your love.
No fixtures and fittings remain, the paint’s stripped away, and what was once a home is now a shell of a house.
Instead of choosing to hold your dead soulmate’s memory close, you destroy everything, including yourself.
Pang of Regret
You are so far down.
The rose falls upon you, yet
you are so far down.
No more discussions
about what you did last week.
No more of your voice.
Now dead and buried.
A pang of regret grips me;
I missed seeing you.
Tempt
Scratching at the front door,
the cold wind moves from a whisper to a wail.
Soft slippers sit side by side,
a desire to slip into my slippers and walk downstairs.
Sorrowfully waiting for the scratching to end,
you tempt me to return to you.
Haiku: Pride
A feeling of pride,
admiring your collection;
the dead butterflies.
Ghostly Glimmer
Cold untilled soil,
an overgrown garden full of weeds,
blooming roses,
an atmosphere heavy and mournful.
An empty house
unlived in for many, many moons.
Decaying walls;
unloved, dusty and abandoned.
Eerie sounds
once sound of laughter, happiness.
Dark shadows,
lurking horrors and unsolved truths.
A vacant owner,
unwilling to return to the family home.
She lingers alone;
he hides alone so far from their home.
Through a prison window,
light falls on a room with dead roses.
Her favourite vase untouched,
roses she loved sit cobwebbed, dead.
A ghostly glimmer;
faceless, loveless, she stands alone.
Unbroken connection,
she cannot leave the place she loves.
Unsolved truths,
bound to this house by his untruths.
Unable to move on,
chained to this lonely torment waiting.
A coward disguised,
his fear of her spectre haunts his nights.
Provocative heart,
her resolve to linger touches his days.
She waits for him,
lingering within what was the family home.
She waits for him
to bring the son she loves so much home.
Haunted Heartbreak
Together for decades: as young lovers, they were inseparable.
Now he is dead; she wanders alone through the timezones.
Never staying in one place for too long, never making connections; She could have had it all, some say, yet without him, it wouldn’t be the same.
She keeps walking through so many countries, walking to remember and to forget.
The death of her love, the haunted heartbreak lingers until it will no longer remain.
Lost on the journey, she stands still under the stars; the recognition of the love she lost startled her, as she finds herself looking at what was in the Bamiyan Valley.
Looking and imagining the Buddhas standing within this beautiful Valley she would have loved to have visited before their destruction by hate and intolerance, she moves on to walk in a direction that suits her soul.
Flawless Finality
A clean, pressed handkerchief
placed within the right pocket.
A suit of fine Italian wool set
quietly upon a sky-blue shirt.
A subdued set of hand-sewn
patent black leather shoes.
A freshly shaved ivory face,
lost in a clean new haircut.
A note to Esther about
love and other things.
A glimpse at what
could have been.
An open
Space.
Falling
Fast.
Free.
Ibrat
Different opinions,
ways of living life;
too much water
under the bridge.
Unable to visit, not
wanting to see him;
he’s not the Father
you idealised, loved.
Years passed, water
passed, life passed;
no time felt right to
go and visit, talk.
You felt it before it
came; a knowing;
a death too quick
for you to digest.
He danced with
death deliberately
on his own; no time
to give anyone time.
You made your peace
with him on the telephone;
he said he has beautiful
children, then the guilt.
Another Ibrat for you to
understand, to learn from;
sitting here looking at
his box filled with ashes.
Joyful Song
Another candle burns down and spills; the electric lights would spoil the mood.
Another flapper dress bounces and someone else does the dancing.
I’m sitting at home, cool as a cat, relaxing in fine haberdashery; I wait only for the cat.
Another cloud bursts like his heart burst when someone shot him a year ago.
Another dead soldier for the cause, though I wonder if it is all worth it.
Another set of thoughts race by as the emotions of widowed bliss set in, consume the atmosphere and keep the cat from venturing over.
Another record set up to spin as I dance with his pillow in our joyful song.
C & K 