Posts Tagged ‘ Death ’

What Do We Do? – Poem

What do we do? Usually drink. Usually laugh. Usually play.
I fight against it. Fight for control.
The phone drops, the control clatters to the floor with it
A storm begins and flood defences fail
Sandbags wash away, barriers collapse
The tide comes in, the rain pelts down
Flash of light. One. Two. Growl low within me
As the darkness dawns, floods flow higher.

What do we do? Usually drink. Usually play. Usually laugh.
The storm sets in on my heart and I sink lower
Rain is rising, carpet comforts me, prevents my heart drowning
And then his arms, I grab on for my life
He’s my swimming aid, my rubber ring wrapped ‘round
The thoughts set in as selfish sobs escape
I think of them, yet I fear for me
I mumble and stumble, he cooks and cares
What will I do without you?

What do we do? Usually drink. Usually talk. Always laugh.
Mind is vacant, needed that way
Need to be empty: No thoughts, no feelings, no tears
I walk the streets of youth, eyes filling, near spilling
With each step, I pound the concrete hard
My memories of me. Of us. Of her. Banished.
Repeat the words, they’re all that exist:
What do we do? Usually drink. Usually dance, usually… Bubble.
Keep on and on, nearly there now.
What do we do?
Block everything else, nothing exists.
Only the words.
Usually dance. Usually drink.
Autopilot, these streets are mine.
What do we do?
Keep going. Nearly there.
What do we do?
Few more steps, keys in hand.
Usually – home.
© May 2008. The italics are “taken” from a single titled Wearing my Rolex by Wiley, which was released on 5th May 2008. It is used without Wiley or his record company’s permission, for the purpose of this poem and the original line of the song is: What would we do/Usually drink, usually dance, usually babble. It was the song I was listening to on a journey and the only thing that stopped me completely breaking down, alone in the middle of the street. The babble/bubble thing is just me being unable to hear the words clearly enough, but I like the bubble part!

Life’s Vase – Poem

Sun still shining, slowly setting
Not a cloud in the sky, clear blue for the square in front
Long green leaves ending in a point show the gentle breeze
Telephone wires high up and taut, wobble precariously
A car moves past, a bird swims through the clear blue
The world outside continues living
In here, the stench of death.

Next to the box of others’ lives, a pot of other colours
Terracotta orange so hard and cold. How can anything live?
My how pretty, long and thin! Like straw to snap but strong as a trunk
Up them, fuel and eyes travel, journeying to the head, the summit of worth
Divergence the key to life. Variability, the fun
For them difference is visual
For us similarity is a mutation.

The strength supports, bringing life to the beauty, to the variable
Green shoots off, more fuel for their fire
The colours vivid, each one pleasing, each one unique
Fragrant smell, fresh and sweet, fills the surroundings
Each stands tall, petals soft and hydrated
Signs of life start to fade
The ways of death so close.

Each head wilts, closing tight, each smell flies away
New fragiles form, struggling and fighting for a new life
New and old join together until the withering patterns the floor
Clean them away, vacuum it up. Leave it all as memory alone
As the blue fades to black, the lives fade to light
New lives begin as old ones end
The terracotta vase is empty.

© May 2008.

Flowers – Poem

Standing tall and proud, it bears the only light,
Illuminating and radiating, warmth and smell abound,
As bright as the sun, as dark as the night,
Two opposing sides, battling to control.
One by one the petals unfurl, revealing an inner beauty,
The pinky white, tinges of deeper crimson,
And suddenly the stamen and stigma revealed,
Their weakness, the inner, fragile weakness.
Slowly time passes as petals fall from their height,
Tumbling to the floor with a pitter patter sound,
Cold is setting in, all the smell worn out,
Now is their time to wilt.
After the dehydration, after all the wrinkles,
After the colours fade from the eye,
The pollen all blows away, staining the heart,
Until the blinding stalks falter, fade and fall.

© 2011

Without/My Day – Poem

A dozen roses are nothing without one,
A vase is only fulfilled with a whole bunch in,
A bottle of wine is wrong with a glass gone,
A box of chocs half-eaten – a disaster!
A day without you, heart-breaking!

A beach trip under a blue sky with one cloud,
A night swimming event with the tide flowing out,
A chock-a-block train with one seat at the back,
The tube doors closing just as you arrive!
A day in a crowd, disaster!

A cookie jar should always be full of them,
A shoe should always have a pair and a dress too,
A necklace requires its matching ear-ring,
A bra must match its pants and her clothes!
You’re not in my crowd, how unfair!

I can see it in my eye – the fairy-tale line,
I can see in my mind who should share my dream,
Too many absent, is there any point?
I invited you there, now nothing feels right.
Is it me that’s unwanted, unloved and ignored?

Or just simple fate that keeps my blood clear?

© April 2008.

Hope – Poem

It’s called hope, and the thing about hope is it doesn’t just fade; hope comes crashing down all around you like the inevitable wave breaks on the shingle.

Where my father sleeps
Is the place to which I seek
Beneath the dirt and ice
My life would be nice
Into which I will be born
After this one is all worn
I seek a place to rest
It is you to whom I bequeath
You will know what is the best
Whichever is underneath.
By land or by the sea,
Either will suit me.

© December 2011. Possibly.

Leaving Trees – Poem

I sit and gaze at the splattered window,
Listening to the howls and screams,
All the time I can see the world below,
The youth walk past, stuck in their dreams,
Ignorance shines in the eyes as they flow,
Looking up and wishing for some sun beams.

Far off in the distance the tree is in pain,
The wind batters with absolutely no care,
For it has nothing to lose and nothing to gain,
My eyes slant, face turning into an evil glare,
At the lack of respect with not a drop of shame,
Not for leaves, or for rubbish, or for the girls’ hair.

The shedding begins, but this is not the right season,
It’s May, still spring, when new life arrives,
But the clouds and rain are out, for what reason?
The poor tiny leaves ripped from their lives,
Torn from the branches in an act of treason,
Nature rebelling until only the wind survives.

One by one the leaves are torn and fall away,
Their luscious green will soon turn in shade,
Flying across the concrete and into the grey.
Another one goes, nature losing to all that’s man made,
No chance for the kids in the leaves to play,
Autumn will pass by blank and dismayed.

The poor forlorn tree will soon be alone,
Empty and bare now useless to the world,
It no longer has life despite the years it has grown.
In fear, the leaves are stolen and curled,
Hiding away in the ugly place of stone,
Amongst all the children and the singular girl.

It cannot take much more loss until it will perish,
It will give up and give in, wait for it to come,
And everyone will pass, able to see and feel its anguish.
The girls are at the beginning, marching to life’s drum,
As the tree and its leaves are left to become simply rubbish,
Each loss brings it further down into the darkened glum.

They are beginning, it is ending, both individually ageing,
Everything is trapped in life’s windowless dungeon,
Both yearning for something, feeling only an aching.
Everything is misaligned, it all feels so foreign,
Giving me thoughts that are simply baffling,
The solution for all is a new dawn, a ray of pure sun.

© Persephone M 26th May 2011

 

Life’s Vase – Poem

Sun still shining, slowly setting
Not a cloud in the sky, clear blue for the square in front
Long green leaves ending in a point show the gentle breeze
Telephone wires high up and taut, wobble precariously
A car moves past, a bird swims through the clear blue
The world outside continues living
In here, the stench of death.

Next to the box of others’ lives, a pot of other colours
Terracotta orange so hard and cold. How can anything live?
My how pretty, long and thin! Like straw to snap but strong as a trunk
Up them, fuel and eyes travel, journeying to the head, the summit of worth
Divergence the key to life. Variability, the fun
For them difference is visual
For us similarity is a mutation.

The strength supports, bringing life to the beauty, to the variable
Green shoots off, more fuel for their fire
The colours vivid, each one pleasing, each one unique
Fragrant smell, fresh and sweet, fills the surroundings
Each stands tall, petals soft and hydrated
Signs of life start to fade
The ways of death so close.

Each head wilts, closing tight, each smell flies away
New fragiles form, struggling and fighting for a new life
New and old join together until the withering patterns the floor
Clean them away, vacuum it up. Leave it all as memory alone
As the blue fades to black, the lives fade to light
New lives begin as old ones end
The terracotta vase is empty.

© Persephone Muse 2007

This is an old poem, part of Timeless Tuesdays and because I’m so tired and nervous that I can’t figure out anything else to post!

~ PersephoneM x