Leave a Message

image by Sarolta Ban 

She calls the number every day

just to hear his voice on their  answering machine

Her friends and the kids say

that it's been long enough

that it's time

but she can't erase the message

It's all she has left of him

After all,

his scent has faded

from his clothes and the bed linen

She no longer gets startled

when she awakens alone

So she clings to this last piece

She won't make him a ghost

at least, not yet

She listens to him say

"Leave your message after the tone"

She pauses, then

whispers "I love you."

submitted for Imaginary Garden With Real Toads, Tuesday Platform and
Magpie Tales, Mag 274

The Widow

She stood, staring
at the bathroom wallpaper
She had liked it once-
Now the roses were faded;
the seams showed.

The left side of the double sink
held no toothbrush or
soaps or
medicines
The bowl was dusty,
toothpaste gobs long gone.

She squeezed the Colgate onto her brush
The crimped end of the tube read
EXP OCT06
It still worked, but had
lost
all
flavor.

submitted for Imaginary Garden With Real Toads, Sunday Mini Challenge, A Birthday in September, William Carlos Williams

Voices Rise

source

The children have no fear to speak

Their voices rise above the grief

that cuts us low and makes us meek

but children have no fear to speak

Our honesty is all they seek

Just listening provides relief

The children have no fear to speak

Their voices rise above the grief.

 

submitted for Verse First, Voices, at Poets United

Ariadne's Thread

Ariadne addressed Theseus: Thou has slain the monster

Illustration by Virginia Frances Sterrett 
               

Grief is a labyrinth

and you, the unwilling subject,

dropped, unprepared, into the tangle

You are lost,

see only foreboding trails and blind curves

I will not tell you

not to be afraid;

this maze is full of danger,

but do not allow fear to stop you

from looking the monster in the eyes

Each time you look away,

it grows that much larger

and more formidable

I can lay a thread for you to follow

and give you a sword,

but you must slay your own monster

I will be waiting for you

to emerge from the other side

You may be tired

You may be battered,

but you will be alive.

submitted for Imaginary Garden With Real Toads, The Lark and the Toad

We Regret To Inform You

source

In that moment, her world split in two:

Before and After

and the chasm between was too wide to ever cross.

A gulf of time,

created in a second,

now so deep that she was drowning.

The shores held no safety;

memories brought an ache so profound

it rent her to the marrow.

The future held emptiness,

a void into which she feared she would disappear.

Wavering, she hovered in the nowhere,

her core unstable,

her existence untenable.

submitted for Imaginary Garden With Real Toads, FB Friday, The Crack In Everything

Obligation

source

What obligation has the tree to the fruit

the vine to the grape?

Having birthed the seed

what is the duty to ensure it ripens neither

too soon nor too late?

And what of the vicissitude of the weather?

Catastrophe has no feeling for filial dependence

no concern with parental bonds

Storms strike randomly

ripping progeny from stem and branch, leaving

torn, gaping spaces into which

Obligation's energy keeps uselessly flowing

spilled sap

submitted for dVerse Poetics, Duty Calls at dVerse Poets Pub

Nick's Eyes

(I think I must have channeled a country music writer for this one. I have no other explanation!)

Blue As the Sky by PinkLemonDesigns

She has eyes like her Daddy's

of cornflower blue

the brightest you've seen in your life

She's been on this earth

for only ten years

and already seen too much strife

Her brother left home

at the age of sixteen

he's hustlin' somewhere on the street

Her mother is bitter

a widow too young

but her girl's brought her nothin' but sweet

So why won't you see her?

Why won't you call?

It's gettin' tough telling her lies

I know that you miss him

I know that it's hard

to look at her and see

Nick's eyes.

Those crazy bright blue eyes

your son gave to her

You always knew that they were kin

She was your favorite

though you'd never tell

but the day Nicky passed on was when

You covered her pictures

won't utter her name

turn your back to her although she cries

It hurts you too much

to look at her face

because what you see are

Nick's eyes.

Nick was your son

seems a crime against God

You always thought that you'd go first

Losing somebody 

leaves a hole in your soul

and losing your child is the worst

But you're not the only one

crying at night

There's a little girl praying she dies

Her Daddy's in heaven

and her Grandpa won't call

she can't understand though she tries

So please go and see her

Give her a call

She don't need to say more goodbyes

Her blue eyes are glassy

so hug her real tight

and look for the smile in

Nick's eyes.

submitted for Imaginary Garden With Real Toads, Fireblossom Friday, Arrivals and Departures

The Children's Hour *

image source

It's the Children's Hour again and the ghosts come out to play

Some must be coaxed from hiding spots

Some are loud and boisterous tots

We welcome them into our room

We don't shoo them away

At the Children's Hour

We build them altars out of clay

We paint their portraits with our crayons

With feathers, glitter, and glue

We construct our own memento mori

And decorate them with colorful beads

     to wear around our necks

At the Children's Hour

We are not afraid of ghosts here

We have seen them all

Even the monsters that live

in your dreams

And make you think of terrible things

That make you mad or make you scream

They're welcome here too

At the Children's Hour

Every ghost has a story to tell

Perhaps about heaven or maybe about hell

Even a silent ghost

Has a lot to say

At the Children's Hour

This poem was inspired by my work with a children's bereavement group through Hospice.

submitted for Poets United, Thursday Think Tank #39 - Ghosts

Grief

image from Magpie Tales 54

Grief is a puzzle with the pieces askew

Another part missing each time you glance

You try to find meaning but don't have a clue

Trip over your own feet in this macabre dance.

Another part missing each time you glance

You try to believe but it doesn't seem true

Trip over your own feet in this macabre dance

Your love is dead and you want to die too.

You try to believe but it doesn't seem true

You walk through your life now as if in a trance

Your love is dead and you want to die too

You can't work this puzzle-there is no chance.

You walk through your life now as if in a trance

There's dust in your heart where once lush gardens grew

You can't work this puzzle-there is no chance

No longer a framework in which to hew.

                                                                   There's dust in your heart where once lush gardens grew

                                                                   You try to find meaning but don't have a clue

                                                                   No longer a framework in which to hew

                                                                   Grief is a puzzle with the pieces askew. 

                                                                   submitted for Mag 54

October Moon

Autumn wind brings you back

Like the fallen leaves

Ghosts of the dead, unborn

Ghosts of those not mourned

I hear your whispers

I feel you inside

Come back to haunt

The house where you died

Scraped clean like a Halloween pumpkin

Trick or treat; no one’s home

It’s been 30 years

Leave me alone

I danced with the Devil

Drank the witches’ brew

I howl in the nighttime

Beneath the October moon

submitted to PhotographProse on 1/20/2011

Photograph Stylist: Linda Gaspich
Prose Stylist: lolamouse