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')

Some of these poems are autobiographical, some are entirely fictional, and some are a mixture of both. The intention is art rather than self-expression. I don't allow factual details to get in the way of poetry! (I do seek emotional truth.)

They are works in progress, and may be subject to revision without notice. Completed versions appear in my books. Nevertheless copyright applies to all texts found here.
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 posts as much as possible.

12 April 2010

The Last Time I Saw Her

I was moved to attune her
to my own form of Celestial Healing
given to me by Spirit:
pink, lavender, violet, red,
combining in a magenta ray.
‘Oh,’ she said, ‘That’s why
I’ve kept on seeing those colours.’

She couldn’t stand for the whole,
although it was light and quick.
Walking down the hospital corridor
for a cup of tea with me
had worn her out. We managed it
with her sitting on the edge of the bed,
after which she was near collapse.

A few days later she died
and so I’ve wondered,
why was I meant to give her
that healing energy which didn’t save her?
But I’ve written already
of her pain-free, inspiring, triumphant death —
and I understand finally: that’s why.

April PAD Challenge 11
Prompt: The Last ... [fill in the blank].


  1. I really enjoyed this piece- the wondering that continues until we make a cognitive decision to set us free. quite insightful-your spirit is lovely how could one but benefit from your being.

  2. strength enough to let go is valuable, yes.

  3. Thank you both for the kind comments.