racing around me, vacuum engine growl,
Words without meaning.
Sound without sense.
There you are.
Your mouth moves,
but I can not hear you
Just like that
you were back.
Years had disappeared.
Your hair glistened in the light of the theatre,
our laughter and the crunch of popcorn on the air.
Grief seeped through me,
sucking me back to the day they said
you were gone.
RIP Lloyd. 1964-1997 No one is truly dead until they are not remembered any more.
and now she tells the story of rape,
of giving up a panopoly of dreams
for the baby boy.
(Shot gun wedding)
Love and happiness can’t be forced,
Society forced her silence,
when she refused abuse,
and sought in the ashes of her dreams
for a phoenix.
cobbled into a life,
grumbled about now.
Dream stealing beast,
a boy who wouldn’t hear no,
seven decades of curses
don’t erase the bitterness
(An early Father’s Day poem)
When I was little
your face was behind a camera
capturing moments of my small life,
fearlessly climbing the steps on the tallest slide,
thigh high stretches for a toddler,
far above your head,
no pain had touched me.
Your greatest gift was security
to grow up confident in your love.
No one else ever loved me so well
or with such shameless devotion.
Oh, how great my loss.
When I miss you,
as I often do,
my memories are lit with