Daddies and Sweets

It’s
drizzling today – but at least it’s warm.
I sit, legs
dangling on the sandstone garden wall.
I am trying hard,
to make my final sweet
last, until tea time
yet I somehow
doubt it will.

There’s
a man in with Mama who I don’t recall
ever seeing before.
They
are sitting side by side eating strawberries
I really hope they
save some for me.
Their voices are low – but every now and
again,
I can here Mama laugh.
She doesn’t laugh that
often – I guess
that’s how I notice it so, when she does.
I swallow my sweet, feeling annoyed with myself
for being so greedy.

I wish they would hurry up and finish whatever
it is, they’ve got to say.
Eventually I hear the sound of the
front door being
rattled open.
Sometimes in the really wet weather
the door sticks –
Mama hit it with a pick axe once, made
no difference other than it broke the handle.
For months afterwards we used a spoon
to turn the lock until finally an old friend
came to fix it –
‘free of charge’ Mama said!

Finally
side by side out they came  – he looked full of himself to me.
Mama acted  all surprised on seeing me.
Can’t think why – she had told me to sit
there.
She
started making funny head gestures towards the house.
I jumped
down from the wall – but not before
the man  had
strolled  towards me.
I could smell
those strawberries on his thick beer laden breath.
He took some sweets from his pocket, holding them out to me.
Mama
nodded for me to accept – so I took them.
My fingers
soon expertly rummaging
in amongst the bright coloured wrappers
looking  for my favourite.
Some of Mamas words  got a
little lost as I unwrapped the sweets.
However, I think I heard
her say
‘Mary, say hello to your
new Daddy’.
I smiled – at least this one brings me sweets…

Poppy ~xx~

 

We Are Sorry

How the Seasons, always
they do separate
when comes the time is final.

To leave us only, with their absent faces
falling swirling
caught between the brittle branch
of man, and wind.

Red random now, are those petals poor,
through
thoughts of tears
that bury deep, beneath our hurried feet.
In blacks and whites of reason
whose distance far divides
in what tomorrow strives to bring.

And, when the mornings, sunlight smile,
diluted in it’s length of stay –
shall dim to fade.

We, will offer no more
understandings of this fight.

But in words of empty, shallow ending days
I hope you understand:

We are sorry for your loss.

Drowning Daffodils.

You begged to go swim –
to sleep
deeply, of the fish and ocean.
So slowly with the rising of the tide
we sank to our knees, dancing
for reasons of know, knowing.

We had a love house
flooded plains, hidden from
the fat eyed women and flat capped men
who sat outside, beside their view of life
wagging their
tongues, of debased woe.

Remember when they found us, seaweed
rolled – with hair a mess and features
cold.
Didn’t I say – we needed to rise

but instead we kept on dancing
far beyond those fields of
golden, swaying daffodils…

At The Waters Edge

I always imagined her
longed neck –
paddling frantically
high and low.
Caught on the horizons sidelines
searching for that safe place to go.

How well she finally
homed that landing
with her salt-laden, sunshine smile.
The corners
of her mouth angled at ease, a tributary
of waters now long ago laid so wasteful at rest.

That once, straight backed shape –
now eel-like, curved in composure
fragile in this, her new found
sanctuary of endings.
Of all her reasons, left unadorned
in the nothingness of such a lonely
biting conclusion…

Poppy
25th January 2014

 

Always

We don’t know yet
that you are dying – when it arrives
embracing me lost, I shall take this place
deeper to me bending our bodies

both
into day and night.
Sleep shall leave me shallow, remote
in it’s hum of peace-less antidotes.
Décor of early mornings
stirs the reminders – my fingers
holding back the clock
until that final tick tock, foretelling

the ending of our summers concluding
consciousness:

from that final letting go
– then you always

sleeping with your cold eyes shut…

Gentle In Black

Last night in the long drawn out darkness
I finally realised –
what it means to be alone.
No one –
will ever understand me
as you once did.

Oh they try
how they try
with their well meaning
words of truism –
and yes, tomorrow
will always be another day.

But today, gentle in my black
I can only walk away when they say

they love me:
For what is love
without your understanding?

Back Room Smiles.

Back Room Smiles

She is the vividness
mantled
around impure prisms
of engaging fire fly light.

Assumptions – predetermined
flicker past her tissues
lonely layers.
The ghost of something, one
day lost
treads in shadows by your side.
She, always politeness

concealed features
playing frivolous games.
Make believe – the touch
of something dark, rubs eyes
closed shut.

Origins of back room
innocence

absurd in their self-satisfied glow
of naked, adulteress smiling…

Re-Birth

I can never grow old
wrapped in my winters deep, deep cold.

The rains, you may consider them beautiful
yet know they are flawed,
shivering exposed
in their deadened gown.

Therefore I ask you, one and all
for your reasoned hush
allowing me my quarters sleep.

Never was it my intention
to die drowning –
deeper, darker substance:
shall always rise in me.

For am I not –
your ceaseless rebirth
of all seasons…