Cat Tale

DSCN0111 (2)                                                                                      -Photo by Mary Bach

It is amazing how a little pile
of fur and bones
of whiskers and purrs
can claim a human heart
can fill a human heart
and

how its suffering
can break
a human heart
and call from the human
both her best and her worst
and how completely
helpless
that human can
feel

 

This is in memory of Frank, my daughter’s cat who left us November 24 of this year.  It is linked to Joy’s FF55 at Verse Escape, with a nod to the late, great G-Man.

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Lost

cardiff
Photo by Mary Bach: Merchant Seafarers’ War Memorial (back side), Cardiff

 

Where are we?
Blinded and betrayed by time
 
Endless skies press down
with the weight of water
 
Sanded and salted
preserved, we thought
 
Like a pearl of great price
I am lamented but unfound
 
scattered, until my ribs
no longer know each other

Loss

Loss curls around him
rubbing against his stubbled cheek
he turns his face to it
and swallows it whole

he feels it circle then settle, heavy
and smooth in his belly
like a stray cat
coming home

inside he is windswept
flapping around the dark pit of absence
bleak as the moors in November
and falling
always falling

 

This started out as a quadrille (44 words) but I came back to it, fiddled, and added a few more.  Now it’s linked to the Imaginary Garden with Real Toads where they are hosting an open forum.

On Outliving One’s Child

He pads down dark corridors
peering into empty rooms

Loss curls around him
rubbing his stubble

He swallows it whole
and feels it settle
heavy
in his belly

Picking at a frayed seam
he wonders how he can be both
so full
and so empty

 

This is for Bjorn at dVerse Poets Pub where we have been asked to write a poem of forty-four words including the word, “curl”, also know as a quadrille.

When it Hurts to Stay

Ooooh Babe
Don’t leave me now
Don’t say it’s the end of the road
-from “Don’t Leave Me Now,” by Roger Waters

Hold me down, count my ribs.
Show me my blood
in red and white
 
Steal my legs
and then my lungs.
Stick in the needle, drain my veins.
Peel back my hair, my skin, my scalp
 
Burn my flesh
with your tender touch
as you hold my hand and
beg me not to go

 

This is a 55 word poem inspired by a sad song, as prompted in the Imaginary Garden with Real Toads.  I think I’ve veered a bit from the original prompt, but this was what I needed to write today.

 

 

Almost

I sit cross-legged
in the garden
on the warm earth

Sweet peas
wave to me
from the trellis.
Morning glories nod
and curl into sleep

As night
sets the stars alight
the breeze
whispers you
against my neck
almost as if you were here

 

I’m breezing in slightly late with a Quadrille for Bjorn at dVerse.  He asked us to write a poem of exactly 44 words including the title, and use the word “breeze” somewhere in it.

Dylanw

Endless
skies press down
with the weight of water

blinded and
betrayed by time

sanded
and salted
preserved, we thought

like a pearl of great price
lamented, but unfound

scattered
so far
my ribs
no longer know
one another other

   Photo by Tess Kincaid: Merchant Seafarers' War Memorial, Cardiff

Photo by Tess Kincaid: Merchant Seafarers’ War Memorial, Cardiff

Notes:
Dylanw is a Celtic god of the sea.
Please see Magpie Tales for more responses to the image.