My husband's poetry

Category: Death & Afterlife

  • requiem for a K-Mart shopper

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    by

    cfblack
    in ,

    At a Blue Light Special, they met. Only one sub sandwich left. He offered to share. She accepted. Decades later, He sat beside her hospice bed Praying to share her pain. His doctor advised him to avoid Cheap lunch meat and white bread; He does not care anymore. At the Walmart Subway counter He pays…

  • Raleigh 10:30am

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    by

    cfblack
    in ,

    Above our daughter’s neighbor’s house Dead limbs stand among green Death In the midst of life Draws me in, suspends me in air 8-5-23

  • Plum blossom slippers

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    by

    cfblack
    in , , ,

    Walk as if you are kissing the Earth with your feet.(Thich Nhat Hanh) written for a poetry workshop: Rejoice in the morning of your survival Above your head a crow shakes last night’s rain from leaves Haploid to diploid fertility dance In the dewy dawn moss comes green The weight of your burden is carried…

  • Among gravestones

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    by

    cfblack
    in ,

    Among gravestones of an old church With a place for children to play I walk along rows of stories Etched in stone Tidal marsh of emotion filled and emptied And filled again Life swirls above and below It is peaceful there 5-16-23

  • Playing possum

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    by

    cfblack
    in , ,

    at a roadside grille two turkey buzzards dine on possum meat quibble over who gets the last eyeball hors d’oeuvre sometimes when you stare into headlights fall down to play dead the oncoming car refuses to play you end up an entree at a roadside grille where two old buzzards quarrel like family at a…

  • This is how it ends

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    by

    cfblack
    in , ,

    like storm litter on the ground you’ll give up trying to hang on wind will push you from your perch someone will come and haul you away maybe you’ll rot in a landfill maybe you’ll ascend In fire pit smoke either way, when your time comes you’ll release your grip and flee 5-1-23

  • Graveside manners

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    by

    cfblack
    in , , ,

    I still carry my father’s casket, Holding onto the side rail As we pull him from the hearse, Unable to release my grip And say goodbye. I have questions in need of answers And he still won’t give them up, Even in death. I still carry my father’s casket Hoping he answers – just once.…

  • Holy Land

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    by

    cfblack
    in , ,

    What makes a holy land: hardships, death or war? All is martyrdom. What makes a holy land: blood shed, torture or prison? All is a refugee camp. What makes a holy land: wilderness treks, epic eulogies and myths? All is mud untamed. What makes a holy land? It is living, loving and generations born? It…

  • Tippy

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    by

    cfblack
    in , , ,

    When mom fell at home and broke her leg, she was moved to a rehab facility. We knew at 92 she’d never return home and suspect dad knew, too. He insisted we move them into a facility where he lived on one floor and mom on another. Their little dog, Tippy, went to live with…

  • Deep in the Detritus

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    by

    cfblack
    in ,

    Do you think the caterpillar in its cocoon upon the forest floor looked forward to being reborn with wings and sipping nectar through its nose. I much prefer their second life, but I cannot speak for them. 2-11-23