My husband's poetry

Category: Death & Afterlife

  • untitled

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    by

    cfblack
    in , ,

    I want to live to be two hundred, hidden away in some old folks’ home, dragged out on my birthday to pose for social media. A dried up old prune nobody really knows; no cherished memories of me taking them for walks, candy in my pockets to share away from their mothers’ prying eyes. Just…

  • Night stand

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    by

    cfblack
    in ,

    I saw an article about the planning of the funeral for the queen of England and she’s not yet dead. And I thought funerals are for the living, the almost living, the almost dead; survivors or rather temporary survivors filing past a casket or urn sitting on a night stand dressed up with an embroidered…

  • an overdue poem for a friend

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    by

    cfblack
    in , ,

    How long did the tree stand stoic and strong before the crack, the fall, the thud, the tearing at surrounding trees on its way to ground? If I knew today was your day to fall, would I have come the day before stand next to your trunk or climb up and sit awkwardly in your…

  • Cora Lee

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    by

    cfblack
    in , ,

    On First Thursday evenings I imagine you standing in robe and slippers staring down into a cluttered living room Before you passed into a diabetic coma landing all bruised and broken at the bottom of a rising stair 8-8-22

  • White shadow dancers

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    by

    cfblack
    in ,

    When you first learned of World War II and the cost of winning the war you would lie on the living room floor watch dust motes above your head shimmer in the sunlight and imagine white shadow dancers the same age as yourself traced upon the ground no longer able to dance. 8-6-22 August 6th…

  • the weight of living

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    by

    cfblack
    in , , ,

    1. Because they were loved and were loving Because they were needed and were needy Because they did not want to be misunderstood 2. Because they would not submit, they stayed, as long, as they could. Eventually the weight of living became too much They knew they could not wait long enough For the loving…

  • the drowning

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    by

    cfblack
    in , , , ,

    On the night of her death She happily chased The moon into the sea Embraced light dancing in the surf Body shrouded in seaweed Waiting for the moon to save her 7-13-22

  • old age

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    by

    cfblack
    in , ,

    Because the feral grey cat was not blessed with opposing thumbs and death knew where to perch so ticks could suck its neck, there was not one damn thing it could do to alleviate the itch. It did not lament impending death and went on living, hunting food, rolling in the dust, fleeing just beyond…

  • Apologies to Kahlil Gibran

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    by

    cfblack
    in ,

    In the shade sat a prophet a spiritual superhero – so to say tired of a world always in travail tired of always being on call to work miracles they decided they no longer needed to work miracles and accepted death as their greatest miracle 6-25-22

  • Eggs benedict with chorizo on the side

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    by

    cfblack
    in , , ,

    Chilly Mother’s Day, rock and roll elevator music overhead played bad. Traffic on the street honks off beat. Everyone needs a job, and the musician’s union pays well. Honeysuckle in the planter, sparrows scavenge breadcrumbs at my feet, dog dish begs water by a bench while families gather outside a restaurant waiting for a text…