The thought has often occurred in my mind –
Why not just chop the tree down this time
Leave no branch to show me a leaf
And desist with the flowers
Beauty is beyond me
I’ll no longer grasp
At the last twig
Or your hand
You’ve gone –
you’re still here
there is no shelter
these branches have no strength
starved of sunlight and respect
they have lost their ability
no longer can they protect you
This new autumn will be terminal
I’ll mulch the leaves and hope for new life soon.
a double Etheree.
(A tale of Viking love and loss and belief)
Towards the horizon he takes his aim,
Behind, sand dunes bar the oceans advance.
Here, in a cold sea, he begins his swim.
Resolute, he hastens to this one chance.
The setting sun sinks with increasing speed
And he must be there before the last rays.
Time never waits – this earthly plane impedes.
Valhalla’s gate slams shut to mortals ways.
Between darkness and light the path exists
As day slips into another grim night,
A chance is there, if his love can insist.
He must prevail, to make his loss seem right.
Upon a battlefield he lost his wife –
Today he battles, with his right to life.
My heart is left aching
From the thing that you did.
My soul is still reeling
From the things that you said.
You’re the fly in my ointment
When you should be the glue.
Its just salt in the wound
When I see you with him,
But the pain it will drive me
And soon I’ll be whole.
Then you’ll see me all vibrant
And glowing its true.
So like a breeze that is freshening
I’ll sweep you aside.
You’ll be nought but a mem’ry,
A pothole in my path.
That I filled with my spirit
My strength and my heart.
Like that light in the tunnel
I see my spring clearly.
I’ll wish you good health
But nothing too cheery.
Warning – I have use a piece of language in this poem that may offend some. I have not done it gratuitously and for those of you who have ever been in ‘the dark place’ you will understand that no other work can carry the necessary emotion.
So please if the use of such a word will offend you, I ask you to read no further.
Gimme some space –
Some elbow room.
Time to fuck this up
In my own special way.
I don’t need your advice –
Your thinly veiled suggestions.
Criticism is my razor
When I’m feeling this way.