Tag Archives: loss

Poetry

Ageless Angel

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She was that age, that ageless something

Between rose petal cheeks and silver waves of fascination

Where the foundations moved but the plans never changed

Where her eyes only ever shone brighter, more acutely than before

Piercing like twin stars set in her own personal heaven

A girl with a woman’s knowing, woman with a girl’s innocence

The sort of carefree soul who bought coral rings just to remember other people’s dreams

It was easier for her living through the dreams of others, I think

As she had no time to waste on her own

I’ve forgotten what they called her because her name never really mattered

Not to those who shared her timeline, her space, her place

A name, as with the asking her age, was pointless

For whoever took the time to speak to the wind

When the only thing that mattered was feeling it rustling their hair

No, her name was only sought by those determined to tame her

To mould and conform her; they might as well have bottled an ocean

Elemental, unbridled, let loose on us all

An ageless angel without a prayer of surviving, she couldn’t have cared any less

And when I was with her, neither could I

Yet, now, I wished I’d known it

Guessed or made up something to define her soul

To capture the uncapturable even if but for a day

I suppose I will until my own spark fades

And all those dreams with it of her body pressed to mine

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Writing

50 Word Stories – Cobwebs

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Losing Polly’s heart hurt. She cupped her soul in the palms of her hands and cast it to the wind. There she hoped it would find another body, one who chose more wisely. If not? Then it would drift amongst the cobwebs in the sky just waiting to be caught.

Poetry

Seen

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I saw her as though a mist descending

Without definition, she wavered

Though I knew it she

The footprint on my heart remembered so

And I waited, expectant, uncertain

For the dead are ever fickle

Though I prayed them not

Like the thinnest veil uplifted

Revealing a lesser gauze beneath

She looked upon me eyes weeping

An uncertain rain

She could not reach out, did not

For her solidity forbade it

But mine did not

I cast myself upon her, through her

When I looked back, she’d gone

And though I’d viewed her

Almost felt her, imagined her warmth

I wished I’d never seen her at all

Writing

50 Word Stories: Emotional


She sat on the pier legs dangling over thin air like a child’s from a swing. If you looked once, you’d have thought her playful, laughing with the wind, joking with the sea. If you looked again, you’d have seen something else. Tearful, she said goodbye. Only the sea heard.

Writing

50 Word Stories: Loss

50 Word Stories: Loss

There were reasons for our languor, our permanent malaise. We discussed them like all good parents would but never found a satisfactory answer. If there was one? Sat on our porch, we even cuddled one tangerine sunrise whilst watching the yard; it lit her twisted bike like a burnt memory. 

Poetry

In Any Other World

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In any other world, we would have been lovers

Plucked from the same ripening tree.

If obstructed, we’d have twined our vines about them, 

Throttled those who’d deny us our destiny,

Leapt towards the light unrestrained.

Nothing would have prevented the inevitable,

For life itself would have driven us on;

It had to, you see.

In any other world, any other time,

Any other realm but this, we would,

But it isn’t and we aren’t,

And regrets won’t make it so.

Writing

Loved To Death

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I found her innocence stifling, her undiluted love too much to take. Wherever I was, she was there too. Whenever I sought the attentions of the bottle, she was there to prevent it, to coax the drink from my hand. She smiled when she did so. She always smiled. What I required, however, was a sneer or a slap. She just wouldn’t do.

I remember gazing down at her grief-stricken figure, a black veil across her face, a tissue in her hand. Her slender form looked like it might snap under the gale and the howling rain. A man in a dog-collar consoled her, though, in truth, he wasted his time and the other single mourner’s too; she was inconsolable. Standing over a large hole in the ground, she threw something I recognised as my favourite shot glass; it smashed to a tinkling tune. Only then did I realise I’d left her. Only then did I know I was dead.