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Blank verse
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Funeral.
A young man died in his sleep he was 49 years old, with my aged eyes
he was boy too young to die. I don’t know the medical reason for his
early demise, think it has to do with burst blood vessel in the brain.
I went to his funeral last Sunday it was a sunny noon and thought at
least heavens could have cried. I didn’t know him, but had hoped to
meet his sister, whom I adore, telling how sorry I was for her loss; but
the whole family was there in common grief, I wouldn’t intrude in their
unhappiness. I spoke to a friend of hers and asked her to extend my
concern, I wanted her to know that I had been there to show respect
and that I cared. But could not escape the gnaw of guilt in my heart,
hadn’t it been for her I might not have attended.
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Free verse
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In the crisp dawn
I meet her gaze
I see the loneliness there
Insidious and unforgiving
I love
She knows
But the world still grinds a space between
My own sick mind fuels her despair and I wonder if I am man enough to save her life
The memory of a blade on soft skin
The horror of her being ripped from my life
It haunts me
It haunts her
It haunts
Will we ever be the same
Or will tragedy bring this fire of love and lust to a raging blaze
Or will I stand alone at a funeral pyre
Wanting her near
But watching her drift away
Dispirit dancing amongst the flames of my lost love
I fear
This loss would be too great to bare
It would break me
and leave me wanting
She is more than a woman
She is life
She is light
She is lust and love and hate and anger
She is everything to me
And she is drifting away
The morning light shines on her wonderful face
I hope it will continue
Forever
I want her near
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Romanticism
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A sweet flower's funeral
displayed in the cold months
of snowy weather and bone chilling shivers.
A sweet flower burned away, dried up;
buried six feet under.
Oh, my sweet flower,
how you once bloomed with no remorse,
like a madman blooming with beauty
and a glorious halo over your head
shinned with such power and blinding glory.
Oh my sweet flower how you have gone now,
resting in peace in the land of paradise.
Oh, my heart it is weak when I see your face,
of once beautiful smiles and warm embraces.
I can hear your crying out to be free.
Snowing and bone chilling cold ripes at my soul
and feelings of sorrow rage through my blood,
boiling my hatred to the world, for losing your
sweet and ever glorious beauty.
What I would give away, if I could be with you
one last night, one last night together
to hold you in my arms, to smell your sweet perfume
that brings back sweet memories of you and I.
What I would do to be with you,
such romance travels through my heart in the highways
of my veins in my body, love is all throughout me,
and my heart breaks when pictures of you start to collect dust.
My love for you, my sweet flower,
is still ingering through the air,
as I travel and look upon a tombstone
which shows your beautiful name.
Come to me my dear flower,
when spring comes,
come to me my dear, sweet flower.
And bloom once again,
twice as large as last year,
and ten times more beautiful then last year.
Come to me in the first months of spring
in my dreams, so I could sit and talk with you.
I miss you already,
and my heart crys,
my eyes flood with tears of sorrow.
I miss our love we shared.
Long walks,
cosy talks,
warm cuddling embraces
and beautiful displayed in a picture frame.
Now I hear the tapping of raindrops on my window pane.
That is all that keeps me company,
that and the rose you gave to me
and a picture of you and me.
Love is endless, even when blue eyed Death comes to visit
and play a game of chess with us,
we all play our game, my love.
I shall go tonight
in my sleepy slumber
and dream of you in the times of our height in our love for each other.
My lost love, you are gone, resting in paradise,
but never forgotten my sweet flower.
-10/6/2013-
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Narrative
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It all started five decades ago, when her gift of imagination began to grow.
She was the youngest of five and could not wait for her to arrive.
Velvety soft skin so fair, along with lots of curly blonde hair;
Eyes deep blue like the night welkin, with an innocent smile and double chin;
Tiny hands that grip and probe wrapped in a pink blanket robe.
Cyndi, a sweet southern name but a lonely child she soon became.
Cyndi went outside to play in the sand, soon came back holding an imagined hand.
At two years old she made a brand new friend, to her Pucka Parker was not pretend.
With siblings overpowering her in age, she often took over center stage.
She was the apple of mom and dad’s eye and learned quickly how to slide by.
Their likeness was uncanny; the mischief was not on her fanny.
Pucka Parker did it, she would cry, as elephant tears poured from her eye.
Pucka Parker was forever to blame and soon inherited the family name.
We took her shopping even to church leaving enough space for her to perch.
We took her in the car on vacation and somehow left her at the gas station.
Cyndi was so upset that she was gone that we had to stop at, what is now, an Exxon.
Pucka Parker was everywhere, to us older ones it seemed so unfair.
Pucka Parker was ruining our life forever; Cyndi’s ties to her must sever.
Mom asked the doctor, what to do, give her some time for her age to accrue.
Now at four, Pucka was on a roll, she ate every cookie from the storing bowl.
She stashed dad’s keys in her drawer; so he couldn’t take mom to the store.
She found lost animals of every sort, said they were lonely, needed her support.
One hot day, at the age of five, she came crying, Pucka was no longer alive.
Tragic end, Pucka was hit by a car, went to heaven; was a new star.
We laid Pucka carefully in a box, on a nice bed of our holey old socks.
We had a short funeral on her behalf, wrote words on a paper and pinned it to a staff.
Here lies beloved Pucka Parker, she was the best, it said on her marker.
It didn’t take long for Cyndi to recoup, befriended a girl to sit on the porch stoop.
It is funny how children conform; make their life cozy, secure, and warm.
To this day after forty-eight years, we recall Pucka who transformed Cyndi’s tears.
Copyright © 2010 By Caryl S. Muzzey
Fourth Place Winner ~ "Story Time” Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Carol Brown
Oct. 12, 2010
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Rhyme
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Eileen was born 80 1/2 years ago
on the first day of winter on the ground a bit of snow
with a twinkle in her eyes and a healthy glow
having both outer and inner beauty to bestow,
Second oldest girl who blossomed and bloomed
living in Queens New York who shared with oldest sister a room
becoming a responsible teen none too soon
always helping out grabbing a dustpan and broom,
Worked various jobs till one fateful day
met a cop named John and they were on they're way
having many things in common you could say
both falling in love without delay,
Marriage came quickly and the five children too
getting up early to help them get off to school
summertimes bringing them to the pool
teaching them manners and the golden rule,
Her children grew up and some moved away
plans for retirement finally came one day
first Florida for fifteen years in the sun they would play
then in 2000 back to New York because couldn't stay,
With her husbands different health issues
taking good care of him was nothing new
a nurturing wife whose complaints were seldom and few
rubbing his feet due to neuropathy as if right on cue,
On the 14th of May in 2014 her husband died
having taken care of his diabetes and melanoma all in stride
just short of 60 years she had been his bride
at his funeral at his casket she'd weep and cry,
Still full of energy she didn't act her age
gardening and shopping till her own health turned a page
feeling rundown acute leukemia in her system would rage
first and only round of chemo being this past May,
Shortly thereafter her health got worse
congestive heart plus low sodium levels were an added curse
discharged from the hospital her eldest became her "nurse"
with other family members on her bedroom hospital bed perched,
Her oxygen machine tube trailing up to her nose
she told everyone she loved them being in the know
asking Jesus to forgive all her sins she was ready to go
too soon to leave now an underground irish rose in repose,
Now Eileen and John await Resurrection day
when Jesus will come and take His children away
reunited for eternity they'll turn to one another and say
I told you I'd wait for you come what may...
Addendum: My beautiful Mom took her last breath at her home in N.Y. on July 9th 2017 at 9:45 a.m. I was fortunate enough to spend some time together with her before she passed away...
Rest in peace Mom and Dad till we all meet again…
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I do not know?
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Where are you Tink,When are you coming home?
K missed me more than I knew,
But I was so caught up in work ,with my new life.
It was almost Christmas and I wanted to go home but the stress of work and
adjusting to this new place was tough.
I called K sometimes to make sure she was okay but then I realized had not for awhile.
She was always on my mind,she lived a nightmare taken for granted by her spouse ,
Whom to him she was a burden,
Yet in her fragile state,she had hope,she had love.
A cruel mother who wronged her,without seeing the true colours of the culprit.
It shattered me to watch her suffer from this blood thirsty annihilation called Leukaemia everyday. I wasn't there,I was helpless so far away.
She was strong,stronger than any person I knew ,
Her faith made her the most gentle soul,
She lived for her daughter with every ouch of strength left in her,
Sometimes I called and she was drained to the core
Locked away and kept like a slave.
Holidays came as quick as the breeze but I was so busy I couldn't fly to and see her.
I knew she needed me and missed me ..
I called her on Christmas day and told her I loved her for a moment.
Old Years Morning I woke up a new dawn was near,
I heard the door bell rang, It was my boyfriend all energized,
So early babe to see me ,are you alright?
He took my hand and walked me the table
Sat me down and said to me "I have something to tell you"
Confusion filled my head ,Was he going to propose ?
I knew he wanted to for awhile ,but like this I thought it wasn't romantic.
Out came the words that pierced through my body like a knife,K's dead babe she
died this morning,
I said "Is this some kind of joke because it's not funny ?Then he held me then left me to be alone"
I ran upstairs and sat in the study searched for her picture and cried my life out,
I didn't get to see her or tell her I loved her"
She must hate me because she wanted to see me .
At her funeral on my Birthday as I watched her lifeless body,
So pale and sad,
I would not be able to laugh with her , go fishing,walk on the beach like the old days,
She wasn't here any more I had to face that fact,
What ripped me apart everyday was not telling her on her last days
,How much she meant to me although I am sure she knew, But still
When I wake up sometimes and call her phone I forget she's no longer here and I
cry myself to sleep.
I try to be strong everyday to live for her and not forget,
Never take anyone for granted or you will live in regret.
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