Death Writes Life’s Poetry

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++

The room would appear to be empty and dark

But what is that, a scratching , scratching,  hark!

Slowly your eyes grow accustomed  to the lack of light

There in the corner is an old guy working,  a curious sight .

Who is this, who can it be ? It is Death ( in his civies ) writing  Life’s Poetry.

I almost feel sorry for the Reaper and I feel you should agree.

He is  exhausted by Life’s demands and quirks

He has to go out collecting the dead  but what irks

Is he has Life’s poems to write, so his times not free

Can you hear that shusshing sound, lets see what can that be …..

It’s  billions of egg timers  set out on shelves .

The sands of time running out for you and me.

I almost feel sorry for Reaper and you should agree.

He  is exhausted by life’s demands and quirks

He is always busy now writing poetry and collecting the  dead

And there’s  more’  for he now has an apprentice to teach and keep fed.

Don’ t you feel a pang of sympathy?

He holds the number’s of you and me.

There is never a moment when he can be free, not even time for hot cup of coffee.

Well he is very busy right now as we can see

And I think there is somewhere , anywhere  else that we should be.

I almost feel sorry for Reaper and I feel you should agree.

He exhausted my life’s demands and quirks

He has to go out collecting  the Dead  

He has to write  Life’s poetry.

Song Lyric Sunday: 17/11/19. Don’t.

This week Jim Adams our talented host for Song Lyric Sunday has said that this week’s prompt is : November 17, 2019 – Did/Didn’t/Do/Don’t/Does/Doesn’t.

This week Jim’s prompt for us set me in mind of my dear friend Karen who died of cancer of the osphagus. We were close friends, I was not long out if hospital having broken my back badly , for the second time, when I got the news from Karen that she was ill.

The reason I have chosen Don’t stop me now by Queen will become apparent at the end of this post.

Don’t Stop Me Now” is a song by the British rock band Queen from their 1978 album Jazz and released as a single in 1979. Written by lead singer Freddie Mercury, it was recorded in August 1978 at Super Bear Studios in Berre-les-Alpes (Alpes-Maritimes), France, and is the twelfth track on the album. More information here.

I hope no one minds me making this so personal but this is Karen’s song.

To Karen

❤
❤
❤
❤

Karen

I rang her every day for over a year,

I begged to come see her but she would not let me near.

We laughed with each other but more often we cried.

I wanted to be with with her but her fears, this to me denied.

I begged her to fight it she told me she was tired

I nagged and bullied she said I was fired!

Things never got better she slipped from my grasp

I tried hard to see her but she still refused, so I did as she asked.

Then finally the day came and I got the call

At last I got to visit , not that she knew at all.

I talked of blue skies and beaches and clouds

I did not whisper I told her out loud.

She was struggling for breath then I caught her eye in a moment of clarity

I told her I  loved her she flashed at me   “no pity!”

Her hands were dirty her nails were lined black

Her pain and the squalor are the memories that keep coming back.

I spent four days in her company

I could not believe what I had to see.

I hated  her suffering as she breathed her last,

Sadly these horrid memories stuck in my mind, the ones which I cannot get past.

It was a foggy freezing December day

When we all met at the Crematorium  our goodbyes to say.

To a larger than life, loud colourful girl

Who with a flash of her eyes could set our working day in a whirl.

I sat there sobbing but she had to have the last word

“Get a grip you silly cow” were the words that I heard.

Then as her coffin disappeared for her final bow

She went out  with  a flourish to Queen’s ‘Don’t Stop Me Now’.

Karen 1958 –  2010

Lest We Forget.

They were so brave, so very young Their journey had not yet begun. Blindly they marched into the guns To a last roll call at the setting sun. They had family and loved ones They all marched off as friends They left their homes full of hope Most would not be back again.

White Poppy Floral Background Field Red

They pulled the gun carriages until they dropped

They carried messages and they got shot.

They searched out the unexploded mines

They saved lives a thousand times.

Spare a thought for the horse, pigeon, donkey dog and many more

Remember them, they all help us in times of war

Image from Pixabayhttps://pixabay.com/photos/flower-white-poppy-2684182/
Why
Argue
Both were brave
Each had their own
Principles to up
Hold. Neither less than bold.
One would carry a weapon
The other a stretcher, no gun
Both men died for their own held beliefs
They were both lost and that loss brought much grief.
———

From the beginning of time up until now and way in to the future war prevails. I believe we will never be free of war.

What we can do is remember those who have given their health or their lives for us to hopefully live better lives. I say Thank You.

We must never forget.

One – Liner Wednesday.

The boundaries which divide Life from Death are at best shadowy and vague. Who shall say where the one ends, and where the other begins?

Photo from Pixabay

#SoCs

Apathy.

I walk the earth, caring for none. Travelling by stealth at night, avoiding the sun
hand.

You pity me, that’s just grand

Wandering your world at will,

Hospitals and morgues I am happy to fill.

No feelings for you pitiful lives.

Your problems mean less than a bag of knives.

I spoil your days with bad news,

Cancer, dementia and murderous baby blues.

I am the dead look in a prostitute’s eyes,

The funeral of each soldier that dies.

I am the bomb, the bullet and grenade.

The million dollar deal on which someone will renege .

I am the loss of innocent child’s limbs.

I am the suicide bomber’s blinding belief.

I am this world’s broken, dieing of grief.

I am the filth you fear so much

The sleaze and the open legs you dare not touch.

I am the disease that stalks you at night

The slash of a knife in a drunken fight.

Your worst, greatest and last no hope

The the scabby hands that grope.

Around in your homes, schools and playground.

I am all that is your worst nightmare

I am the wrongs that you have no intention to repair.

I am Apathy.

**********

It only takes a few good men to do nothing and evil will win.

Death, Cause and Effect.

I wrote this story in 2014 but with the news of yet so many gang related killing in London and around lately. There have been so many knife crimes this year. In light of this I thought I would repost Death, Cause and Effect.

DEATH

It was quiet and dark and the sun through the window was warming him just enough to keep him alert now his fight had begun.

The bench was hard but he could take that, it was the pain in his side and chest which filled his being, everything else was flat.

Fear gripped his mind, he was so cold inside yet a sweat was rippling down his back. His sight was blurred, was he going blind?

Slowly a long hidden memory came to the fore. His mother had taught him it long before he had changed. “Gentle Jesus meek and mild look upon me a little child”

OH! Jesus if you are there help me now, I did not need you then but I do now. Jesus this pain is f###ing killing me, help me help me please. Slowly he slipped forward onto the floor a darkness washed over him and he knew no more.
~~~~~~~~~~~

“Where are you going son. No, out, will not do! Listen to me boy I am asking you. Why must you run with that pack it seems to me now there is no coming back. What has happened to you, you were such a good boy at school I had hopes that you’d go far but your just like your brother playing the fool.
No your not wicked but you are not a fool and I am telling you this, in my book you’re not cool.”

“What are you doing with that? Give it me back , don’t you threaten me son I’ll give you a smack. OH! Please will you listen to me don’t take that knife it will not set you free from the boredom in your life. It will not get you a job, it won’t make you a man what has happened to you and your world changing plan? You had vision and hunger for work a decent and pleasant boy not as you are now , just a jerk.”
~~~~~~

Clearing up quietly the priest approached the the last row when something on the floor that caught the suns last glow. Red and sticky he knew what it was but he prayed to his God that it would not be true. The boy lying his arms out wide, blood flowing from his side. A thought crossed his mind but he dismissed immediately. He looked like Jesus did, you see. Arms out wide , blood from his side a cut round his forehead dripping, blood in his eyes.

He took out his mobile and took a deep breath as he dialled , ambulance, police he begged his mind running wild. The operator was telling him what to do, “Keep him warm and stem the blood is what I want you to do.” He ripped off his cassock and swaddle the lad he then notice blood on his jeans ( the best ones he had) He cradled the boy and prayed in his ear “keep trying to stay ask now, Jesus will hear.”

It was half an hour until anyone arrived the paramedic crew gently moved the priest to one side. It was too late the boy was gone, then with their radios crackling loud, the police taped the area off,with people from everywhere arriving, such a crowed.

Standing back and looking around the priest said a prayer with out making a sound. “Dear God take the soul of this boy who died here today and give him some peace, and if you have time help me find words to sooth his family, at least ” Then he sat down exhausted, he was just a man even though he was called priest.

A woman on her way home from work regretting an argument at the start of her day was wondering how to fix things and what she could say. She always said never give up, never leave a good word unsaid. Never leave things, sort them before you go to bed. Passing the church she saw her youngest boys friends , he wasn’t there perhaps they could make amends.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

THE CAUSE

Photo found Here

He awoke with a jump. It was his brother rolling in drunk! Damn only 4am please don’t go over what’s to happen again. I know I must do this. I must prove myself.

It was all too easy a year a go when his best friend introduced him to the boys “you need to know” It had been simple things at first making old ladies jump, stealing traffic cones all laughing fit to burst.

When he was really trusted, got himself a name.Things became more serious it suddenly was a whole new game. They met the older boys, the ones with big fast cars. They all wore hoodies, bling and they all had facial scars.

It was money and messages that he had to run he was fit and had a bike.Now that is how easily it had begun. He often skipped school though not always willingly. There really was not any choice, what the big boys said, had to be.

His teachers all asked him why his work had slipped away he had a brilliant future and he had thrown it all away. He was a little worried but he shrugged his shoulders and wondered off, his teachers called him back but his friends told them to f### off.

Mum, she was desperate working on her own doing all she could to keep the house,the boys and make for them a home. The oldest she had lost him he had gone to drugs. She had tried so hard but he just robbed her blind and made her look a mug.The young one she had dreams for she had prayed to the Lord each day but now he was on the wrong track and now he was slipping the same way.

He knew he had become a waster, he knew that he was bad . It was the only way to be accepted and safe but the pain in Mum’s eyes made him feel bad. So he just avoided contact and hardened to her pleas. He was knocked back the other day when she begged him to stay home down on her knees.

He tried to ask his brother who ran with an older crew but he was useless as he was trapped there too. What chance was there, his brother asked, what was there for them to do there was no work or opportunities running with lads was at least something to do. It was all about status and how hard you are , what clothes you wore , what trainers and did you have a scar.
~~~~~~~~

His brother had one, on his face, from a fight with a rival gang. Okay it hurt , six days in hospital 17 stitches but he was now a big man??

Today was his chance to join the glorious crew. To take part in the big ruck was all he had to do.

Two weeks he had known about the fight , where and exactly when. It was on his mind both day and night . His thoughts were full of dread , through his blood ran pure fear it was nearly six now, the day was finally here.

Later in the kitchen when he was taking the knife , his mother caught him and shouted at him. He raised his hand to her for the first and last time in his life. Luckily she was small so he pushed her to one side as he crashed through the door and out the gate . His mother sat on the floor and cried.
~~~~~~~~~~~
Later he met the guys when mum had gone to work , they knew a squat they could use to complete their plan. By 4pm they were jumpy they were ready to a man.They left the squat and through the railings ran. Jumping , punching the air and making feral calls they had it now they all knew the plan, they had all the balls.

He wished he’d picked a smaller knife this one was too large . As he was changing it’s position. Into him a couple of the lads all barged. At once he felt a sharp and stinging pain as he fell to the floor, it felt worse again. His side felt wet and his forehead was cut where he had scraped along the floor..

By Banksy

What’s wrong man, stop messing we haven’t got the time it’s 5 o’clock now hear those church bells chime. Oh! hey you’re hurt man what did you do. You stupid f### you stabbed yourself. We have to leave you here, no good to have a burden on the crew.

His best friend helped him in to the church and sat him at the back , hold on, he said, laters. then ran off to join the pack.

So he alone now, life ebbing from his side thought of mum, school his brother and he cried. He asked the lord for comfort but comfort did not come. He prayed a childhood prayer from deep inside his mind. The priest found him,and he was very kind. He wrapped his chest and held him and asked him not to go . He tried to but he couldn’t stay he felt too tired, too low.

He heard the priests’ desperate call as he slipped away forget the ambulance he though and just pray for me today. The priest felt him go, but he would not loose his grip he felt he needed to guide this lost boy, some mothers pride and joy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

THE EFFECT

Image found Here

Getting off the bus and heading for home, she was tired her feet ached but she was determined not to moan. This was important, it had to be done she needed to put her whole being into saving her youngest son!

Pushing the front door shut behind her putting the bags down on the kitchen floor she looked into the living room but there was no one there. No television no shoot’em’up games standing in the hallway she called out both boys names.

OH! well, she put the kettle on and maybe she’d ring around she had both their mobile numbers but they did not always want to be found. The doorbell rings , damn she had only just sat down she, walking toward the door the phone begins to sing.

There it is the sight every mother dreads, a policeman and a policewoman , OH! god she thinks someone must be dead.
~~~~~~~~~

The hospital was noisy but she didn’t hear a sound her lungs were filling up as she were about to drown. She had been waiting for an age now, would no one take her in. She was feeling really sick now and and felt like things were crawling on her skin.

It was so cold in there and he only had a sheet on . God he looked so pale but she supposed that was what you would look like when all your blood was gone.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

She woke up with the headache she had had since that day the shock of the police visit and what they had to say. She she knew she had to get up she knew she must today, it was the funeral and that would not go away.

Things had been different her elder boy had staid home he seemed to want to help his mother and not leave her on her own. She dare not hope he had changed but she was glad that he was there. She slowly put her face on and then she brushed her hair.

His friends were at the church like they had been that day , he was not not with them. Would this pain ever go away. The priest seemed glad to see her and he offer his support, she felt close to this man who was with her boy when for his life he fought.
~~~~~~~~~

His favourite track finished and the last notes drifted away she stood up and looked at everyone and said she had something to say.

She knew that there was no work and that there was not much hope but joining gangs and using guns and knives was not the way to cope. Please listen she pleaded you are slipping away too many lives are wasted too many die this way. Something must be done and it must be soon we are loosing a generation it might be two if something is not done soon. How many more mothers have to suffer like she was. We really need to sort this out……… her voice trailed off to silence as she repeated, how many more mothers like me.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Cinqku Drowning.

Drowning

Nothing left

To struggle for

Such a relief , escape

Freedom.

*********

A cinqku must always have 5 lines and a perfect seventeen-syllable count. The lines typically follow a 2,3,4,6,2 format. There is no title requirement on the second line. As for syntax and diction styles, it follows the free Tanka style originally. There are no metric requirements for a cinqku poem. Additionally, the final line must contain a cinquain or kireji turn for emphasis.

Death Stalks.

Dark secrets hidden in the soul

Lost hope devours futures whole.

The beauty of the mountainside

Hold darkness that covers wide.

Fears are waterfalls hidden deep

Death stalks there, touching all

Leaving wife and son weep.

******

The above artwork is by André Mangabeira. He created this stunning piece by using charcoal and pastels on a moleskin sketchbook.
André based it on a scene from the Turkish movie – ‘Once upon a time in Anatolia’.

I read the plot and followed Andre’s lead basing a short poem on the essence of the story.

Do visit André’s blog.

André has kindly given me permission to use this piece of artwork.

Borrow The Lyrics Challenge: Ribbons.

I was very interested to receive this challenge from Jim Adams. (You can read his entry here)

Here are the Rules.

1: You need to choose a verse from a song and use it in an original poem or story.

2: You must include the name of the song and the singer at the end or beginning.

3: You need to challenge someone else and invent ONE rule they need to follow.

4 You must credit the person who started this challenge (a.k.a. PJ – I’m sorry for the inconvenience) and the person who challenged you, which was Jim Adams.

Thank you for the challenge Jim and your new rule that the song I use must contain the word ribbon in it.

So here goes. I did not want to use the obvious, Scarlett Ribbons, because I really do not like that song.

So I have gone for the song Ribbons by the group, The Good the Bad and the Queen.
The Good, the Bad & the Queen, comprising Damon Albarn, Paul Simonon, Simon Tong and Tony Allen Their first album The Good the Bad and the Queen debuted at number two in the UK Albums Chart and was certified Gold in the UK within days of its release despite little media recognition and airplay. In the United States, the album entered the Billboard 200 at No. 49. In October 2018, it was confirmed that the band’s official name is The Good, the Bad & the Queen after they announced their second album, Merrie Land. It is from this second Album that I have chosen the track, composed by Damon Albarn, Tony Allen, Paul Simonon, Simon Tong and Tony Visconti.

The lyrics are in the video.

Ribbons of War.

Out of the blue

Come the arrows that kill me and you.

Dance round the maypole while you can

Wear your coloured ribbons pray for your man.

The king’s men are fighting below the hill

Wearing their colours as the enemy’s blood they spill.

Dance in the morning feel the warmth of life

You’ll be wearing black ribbons by dark tonight.

The Queen in the castle the King on the hill

It’s the peasants of the fields the ribbons and arrows will kill.

Horses and maypoles carry ribbons blue, red, white green and black.

Flowers will bloom, in glorious dawn

Planted for the dead by those left to mourn.

***********

So there is my little anti war poem about Ribbons. I think I may of stretch the rules by using more than one verse but I do love the lyrics of the song.

Now I nominate Fandango this, that and the other. My extra rule that the song must have the word home in its title or lyrics.

Have fun , I did.

Drowning.

Drowning

Cold

Can’t breath

Lungs bursting

Pain exploding

Out of time and breath

Drowning I sink deeper

Darker ever the light recedes

I am trapped hopelessly in weeds

Held fast I silently breath my last

So sad, there’s nothing to flash before me.

A

Wasted

Pointless life

No one will miss

I leave not a mark

Unseen, unheard, undone

Wasted years lost on cold hearts

No songs for me, I was not free

Unloved, uncared for, useless, wasted

Lost from the beginning I could not see.

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