I ... entered the poem of life, whose purpose is ... simply to witness the beauties of the world, to discover the many forms that love can take. (Barabara Blackman in 'Glass After Glass')

These poems are works in progress and may be updated without notice. Nevertheless copyright applies to all writings here and all photos (which are either my own or used with permission). Thank you for your comments. I read and appreciate them all, and reply here to specific points that seem to need it — or as I have the leisure. Otherwise I reciprocate by reading and commenting on your blog posts as much as possible.

17 April 2010

Anxiety

She leads an adventurous life
avoiding the dire possibilities
that are out there waiting —
much more exciting than
for those of us who miss out
on the thrills of fear and escape
which she navigates daily.

Life is writ larger for her.
When her cat stays out all night,
she opens the door in the morning
thinking to find, on the ground outside,
his dead body. Such profound relief
when he bounces inside for breakfast
and her ecstatic greeting.

When her man is late home
by a few minutes, in no time at all
she is planning the funeral —
what to wear, whom to invite —
then tries to disguise her rapture
when he turns up after all. Nowadays
it seems to irritate him. (Why?)

Any ache, sniffle or bump
causes cries of alarm, and another
appointment with a doctor. Always
a new doctor, as each one fails
to treat her physical symptoms
with due seriousness. They only
want to examine her emotions.

She doesn’t know how she has managed
to cheat death for so long. All her life
he has stalked her, laying traps. So far
she has evaded every ambush, but
she knows that one day he’ll trip her up.
As indeed he shall, one day. Meanwhile
she is absorbed in the drama of her life.


April PAD Challenge 16
Prompt: a death poem

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