My husband's poetry

Category: Death & Afterlife

  • 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

  • Augury

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    by

    cfblack
    in , , ,

    Because there are no worms or flies this time of year, I will not begrudge a murder of crows a careless squirrel, lying dead in the road. Every once in awhile an easy meal’s okay. Maybe they’ll be more cautious than roadkill squirrels and won’t adorn a grille 1-18-23

  • For a friend

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    by

    cfblack
    in , ,

    For a moment, I thought I saw you in the grocery store parking lot getting out of your car. You turned and smiled. I started to call out your name, when I remembered you’ve been gone over a year and I don’t believe in ghosts (not even the friendly kind). But for moment, I thought…

  • Cut flowers

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    by

    cfblack
    in , ,

    “And I won’t forget to put roses on your grave” (Rolling Stones) cut flowers in a vase already dead we keep them only until their death can no longer be denied and throw them in the trash because they will not grow it seems strange to gift my lover a bouquet, because she enjoys the…

  • Murder she wrote

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    by

    cfblack
    in , ,

    Gloomy overcast morning, you daydream Angela Langsbury walking her dog in the park across the street. She calls out and waves. You call back frantically you are too young to die and to stay on her side of the street. As she walks away; you call out, “…and don’t forget to scoop,” rise from your…

  • Needing a news break

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    by

    cfblack
    in , ,

    Reading the news, I remember how my parents drew nearer death and seemed to take on a different glow telling childhood stories When missiles approach Kyiv do the souls at ground zero take on a special glow before they incinerate? 10-17-22