Hilda Greenhough | + Follow Poet |
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The Helpfuls

My eyes are getting weaker,
Tho' I seem to see so much more.
My days are getting bleaker, 
Tho' I laugh more oft than before.

A laughter so unnerving,
It seems an echo from the Dead,
With off-key music serving 
To bait the phantoms in my head.

I see the creatures Helpful, 
As they surround his final bed.
They sway in rhythm woeful
Of the transition close ahead.

I step aside; I'm knowing
That they don't want me in their way.
The tension keeps on growing.
I simply bow my head and pray.

I feel the body leaving,
But see it still upon the bed.
My heart begins its grieving.
His soul is gone, but he is dead.

Copyright © Hilda Greenhough | Year Posted 2023

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Karen Jones Date: 10/19/2023 12:51:00 AM This is beautiful. The subject is somber yet it is delivered with a whimsical rhyme giving it light at the deadly end. A fav for me. Login to Reply Hilda Greenhough Date: 10/19/2023 2:25:00 AM Thank you.

Hilda Greenhough Date: 10/15/2023 11:02:00 AM I hope you liked it. This is my preferred poetry style. You might also like Sacrifice which was my first poem. A little eerie, I know. Login to Reply

Jan Allison Date: 10/15/2023 10:06:00 AM aww Hilda this is such a moving piece i had a huge lump in my throat reading the final stanzas. hugs Jan xx Login to Reply