This is a poem I wrote the year my mum passed away. Even though Christmas has passed, I thought I would share it again as a special tribute to her, my little bird!
I tried to forget you yesterday
Pretended the day wasn’t about you
No celebration, no memorial or tasteful display
Just a drink and a quick prayer to chase out blues
Now the clock is ticking
Santa is drawing near
We’ve put up your Christmas decoration
Since you won’t be here
No struggling, cursing, crying
To get you through the door
And the happy sense of achievement
When your wheels touch the kitchen floor
We won’t choose the meal together
Since last year’s meal was your last
No fighting over whose house to visit
Now that you’re in the past
I’m going to try not to miss you
When I don’t see you sitting there
Children reaching to open their presents
They’ve kept back, so that moment, with you, they could share
Every minute of Christmas this year
Will breathe in for a new tradition
As you, dear Mum won’t be there
Since you’ve taken a life-long intermission.
Posted in Poetry, Weekly Trail
Tagged blogging, blogs, christmas, death, family, loss, love, mother, poems, poetry, sadness
Threads dispersed, tendrils drifting,
Cross stitches holding my heart together
Fragile grips for forever
Like kisses on a broken organ.
Undisclosed attachments to materialistic grips
Patterned designs meant for purpose
But, oh, giving me goose bumps of joy
As I blanket stitch them together.
Expressing my toxic insides
Filtering them with padding
Slip stitch my lips so nothing escapes;
Shh! Here comes the blunt truth…
Nothing can hold back the black and white
No shade. Backstitch that bad stuff,
But the running stitch won’t erase it.
The stark truth prevails like a blind stitch.
Consume my physical receptacle
Pool your passion as you will
Favour the inevitable
As I swallow the bitter pill
Of realising your incompetence
Of being more than a physical presence
Leave me yearning for more substance
In my search for a soulmate’s essence.
Hello and welcome.
Any poet will tell you that events and people inspire the art. Our exchanges breathe moments of desire, passion and slowly dying embers of deceit or delight. As the intensity passes, we are left with the memories of the encounter and this rare beast is what we try to capture within our words. Well, at least I do!
This poem, for me, is the moment trust dies in a relationship. It could be a friendship, a loved one, a relationship with a workmate or boss. In time, we all experience events where life becomes art and the words that encapsulate that emotion are trapped forever.
I hope this poem as much as I enjoyed writing it. It doesn’t have a name yet. Maybe you could suggest one in the comments below.
Have a great evening.
Nuances once found endearing
Now grate against my skin
Scratching, screaming down my vertebrae
Telling me all your sins
Incompetence and flagrant misdirection
Needles picking at your consistence
Integral parts of my anatomy
Shouting out allegories against your existence
Deprivation within the biomass
This disorder known as yourself
Rip disregarded respect and faith
Away from all harmony; my loss, your wealth
Copyright held by ©Eloise De Sousa (2018)
White flakes silence the world
Muffled in a blanket of cold
Heat cries in dismay.
High pitched laughter
Flying balls find their hysterical targets.
Icy fingers purpling
Breath now heavy
Time to find the noise and warmth again.
A blast from the past for this Friday. Poetry from My Poetry Book, available from http://lulu.com/spotlight/eloisedesousa
Thoughts by Mello-Elo
At the edge of our memories and just within sight
Our dreams hover like butterflies on a hazy day
Each step you take to get closer, within reach of the light
These butterflies just dance away.
I watch as each dream flies so slight, playing with the wind and my hair
I see a gun pointed and a shot ring out
Another dream has died in that way.
Push forward you are told and your dreams will come true
Who lied and gave us a false path?
For as you push forward in the future, along tags your past
You will find you’re stuck in the same place.
A stagnant pool that simmers and sighs,
Watching the butterflies dance above it.
You can wait and cry, but it will not change anything.
That is the way life will always stay.
I sit in my play pool, watching the water splash;
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Crows huddle in their blackened shrouds
A treasured box of bones to behold
With fluttered wings they flounce and flow
Their lives tethered to stringed souls
Council leads the ghastly meet
The murder sing songs of fading remembrance
A requiem soliloquy so carefully laid
Words delivering life’s sweet vengeance
Wet beaks and muttered parochial verse
The only sustenance offered
As washed out eyes take in the scene
A memory of love once suffered
Lowly clouds gather above
Witness to one more ending
The ebb of life once fast and free
To heaven or Hades, now sending
Copyright held by Eloise De Sousa (2017)