I wrote this to mourn for and to celebrate the life of my grandmother - a very unique woman who flouted convention, lived her life the way she wanted and as a young woman had an army of admirers and a couple of very special lovers. She was one of the very early women drivers and during WW2 ... Read review
Advantages: It may be the answer to the mystery Disadvantages: I'll never really know
I wrote this to mourn for and to celebrate the life of my grandmother - a very unique woman who flouted convention, lived her life the way she wanted and as a young woman had an army of admirers and a couple of very special lovers. She was one of the very early women drivers and during WW2 drove an ambulance to aid the war effort. She lived life to the very max until she finally settled down and married (around 21 years after my mother was born!) ... ...When my parents both became ill my grandmother who was sadly sinking into senile dementia by then, had to go into residential care where she died with me beside her holding her hand, around 18 months after my mother's death.
I always thought she'd been a bit of a butterfly with her affections as a young woman, but a letter I found amongst her belongings after her death, signed mysteriously with a question mark and addressed to her ... more
I wrote this to mourn for and to celebrate the life of my grandmother - a very unique woman who flouted convention, lived her life the way she wanted and as a young woman had an army of admirers and a couple of very special lovers. She was one of the very early women drivers and during WW2 drove an ambulance to aid the war effort. She lived life to the very max until she finally settled down and married (around 21 years after my mother was born!) and true to my parents prediction outlived them both. When my parents both became ill my grandmother who was sadly sinking into senile dementia by then, had to go into residential care where she died with me beside her holding her hand, around 18 months after my mother's death.
I always thought she'd been a bit of a butterfly with her affections as a young woman, but a letter I found amongst her belongings after her death, signed mysteriously with a question mark and addressed to her at her place of work at a gentlemans club in London, has led me to believe that there was a very special man in her life who for some reason unknown to me disappeared from the scene.
I found it very intriguing and after turning up a little more info whilst investigating my family tree I realise there are even more questions that will never be answered. It prompted me to write this with love for and in memory of my grandmother, Clara Lilian Mitchell 1903 - 1999.
Requiem for Clara
Clara sits slumped, claw like hands clasped on arthritic knees, eyes fixed on middle distance, silver hair stirring softly in the breeze from the open window
I’ve sat here waiting for my lover - it seems like a lifetime. I can almost feel his fingers running through my hair and his eyes shine as he looks at me
Her lips move but the words remain silent or unspoken, Trapped inside this frail shell that’s just a token Of what once was
Someone holds my hand and looks so sad as she speaks of love and loss that I want to reply but the words dissolve like fairground candy floss On my tongue
A cheery lilac clad worker bustles round chatting and singing expecting no reply as her thoughts go winging off to what she’ll do when she goes home
Someone fiddles and fusses around me straightening the bed her silly, pointless questions buzzing round my head like angry wasps
The TV plays silently in the corner, some mindless chat show or other unheeded as those hands pluck fretfully at the pristine cover of the bed beside
Colours flicker in the corner of my eye – I see dancers in bright array beckoning me on to the party and begging me to stay a while longer
Swollen feet encased in tartan slippers restlessly shift as aged eyes focus briefly and then drift away to who knows where
My feet tap to the rhythm of the music that’s running through my brain, a lively, catchy tune, some half-forgotten refrain from my youth
Wrinkled eyelids close over faded, forget me not eyes, breathing slows, escaping desiccated lips like lovers sighs In the night
The dancers whirl closer and I see friends from years ago drawing me in among them and somehow I know the party is for me
She sleeps quietly now, a single shaft of sunlight warms her face which relaxes as her mind drifts off to a distant place free from pain
I’m wearing my favourite lilac party dress. Beads around the hem sway against my knees as I dance and in my hair a single gem sparkles in the light
Lilac clad worker rubs Clara’s hands and calls her name but even as she does she knows the vital flame is dying low
The dancers part and in the gap I see him, so handsome in his smart suit with spotted handkerchief. He grasps my hand drawing me to him, nestling my head beneath his heart
Workers flood the room but even as they care for her they know that in this utilitarian place the spark has ceased to glow and life has gone
Someone calls my name and I half turn my head to see but my lover cups my face in his hands, eyes shining with a plea and so I stay.
An Angel
Angel memories this day, beautiful soul taken away.
Our thought and minds are with you now forever with you. Angel wings they take you far, away from me in some other time.
I dreamt of you and your angel face, a smile from you would be ace.
Beautiful Lara on this day tears will flow because you went away.
We miss you so my angel girl, where you are now know one knows.
On this day your birthday i remember how I prayed and wished.
Just ... ...you can flow through my soul today you haven't just ebbed away.
Soulful angel girl may your spirit be free, Me your mummy wants peace for you so your free.
With beautiful wings and an innocent smile taken to the light, we will no longer fight.
You are loved forever little angel, always in my heart.
with silent tears, and memories we are never apart. ...
Playgirl27 16.04.2006
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...finding peace…
These are poems I wrote during quite a difficult time in my life, touched on already in my afterlife review. I have never shared them before, but felt somehow compelled to put them up here. I would love to hear your thoughts on them, and thank you for reading them. Kate x
Blue Songs
Conversation.
The man
who lives
across the road
from us
steals cars.
Sells drugs to teenage boys.
Beats his wife and children
black and blue.
... ...it gives us all
something else
to talk about.
**********
Mother
Returning
I find everything much the same.
The window sills are still yellow
bright as the face of the sun.
The kitchen too - mother needs its glow to hold a smile.
The geranium slips in the babysham bottle
have grown a little, but stay as still as before
on the draining board
in the kitchen
where my mother spends her dreams
on a life she had never anticipated.
The cat, ...
phoenixgreen 17.11.2006
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Did your hear the whisper echo deep inside my brain,
Did you hear the footsteps follow me? There they are again...
Have you noticed something strange about the way I act?
Have you noticed something different, rather odd in fact?
Have you felt the fear that I am feeling every day?
Have you seen the way I found it impossible to say
Anything personal at all to you or anyone,
How I always hide away and want to be alone?
Have you noticed how I ... ...all, it's just because I'm scared.
It's not usual for me to look you in the eye,
I often look down to the floor so you don't see me cry.
I've always wondered how everyone one, just takes it in their stride,
I doubt you would notice at all if I was by your side.
I'm just a little person, someone life just passes by,
A little speck of dust, that irritates your eye.
But when I'm all alone at home, there's much you do not see,
There's so much ...
anxiety 05.04.2006
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This is occasioned by the sudden death of my cousin and good friend Boris. He died of a heart attack at what seems all too young an age, though I suppose in terms of years he wasn’t particularly young, any more than I am. The poem is not really about Boris, much as he was a remarkable man who deserves to be written about (another time perhaps) and much as his passing grieves me, as it does all who knew him. It’s more about the conflicting imperatives ... ...death, insofar as anyone can. Or about the cares of growing old. Or something. In her email inviting people to his funeral, Boris’s widow Maggy signed off by saying, “Go carefully, we are not young after all,” a closure that prompted these lines:
Go carefully, we’re not young after all.
We felt we were, whatever knowledge said;
“We’re young at heart,” or so we told our heads,
Forgetting that the heart’s most prone to stall.
Though care alone ...
torr 28.04.2009
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Advantages: You learn Disadvantages: You never learn enough
This is for Jane47, it's her fault, all her fault that I am posting this... : )
But she never makes me feel sad, her effect leans much more towards making me experience hysterical fits of laughter as it happens!
Bless you Jane!
The poem was originally written in spanish, so I am including the spanish version below the english one.
Sadness
There is a sort of sadness that springs like saturated water,
And turns into a fountain, unwillingly;
... ...speak, unsuccessfully;
It is a dumb sadness, which has no hearing,
No mouth, no eyes, no sound and no faith;
A hard sadness, without any meaning,
That makes bubbles of hunger and thirst;
It is a sadness without complaints or tears,
Which hatches and dies without a known reason;
It attacks every desire, every breath, every breeze;
A sadness with a longing for a missing season;
It thinks itself your indispensable and loyal friend,
But it ...
Librelola 01.03.2006
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