grief

Chokehold

Throat 
raw with grief
or is it the whiskey
each fuelling the other 
like oceans 
feed storms
and storms 
feed oceans. 

blue volcanoes
push magma down my face
but instead of sulphur
it's the sodium that burns 

they say applying pressure on coal
gives you a diamond 
the weight of your loss
cuts with clarity
time is precious
life is finite.

Thanks for taking the time to read this poem. Sometimes grief can’t let you say things, so you have to write them down.
Enough of the moroseness; I hope you’re doing well, and if you want to read something lighthearted after this, I’d recommend this poem.

Take it easy,

Paul

Reincarnate

The last of the dahlias
were picked last week
ruby red, imperial, majestic
they ruled the garden
so to let them drown
in the relentless October rain
would have been sacrilege
instead, we slipped them into a glass-vase coma
keeping them alive
until scarlet turned to rust
and petals slipped away
and we were ready to say our farewells

softened stems were carried
and placed among the compost pile
so memories of their life
can grow a new family of flora
and their majesty return.

———

Thanks for taking the time to read my poem. Please feel free to have a look around my site for more of my work.

Take It Easy

Paul

Roar

we are all mauled lions
hunting to regain our pride
questioning whether we can be heard
because often none roar back
when we are loudest in our pain
we only hear the drum  of shame on the wind
and feel the stinging reek of guilt
from those we ran with in the good times
fearless
when the sky was light blue, coral and ochre
but when the darkness descends
in jet, midnight and fog
they are scared to acknowledge us
scared they will be tainted
scared their roars won’t be answered
yet to realise
we are all mauled lions.