Four years old and short of breath,
in a tented bed at the end of the ward,
the terror of separation in check only
because Mother had told me she would be
there in the morning, first thing.
But she wasn't, and at last I just wailed
across the receding rows of sick children
and they, like sympathetic strings,
howled back in atonal harmonics.
The bulging matron shouted: "SHUT UP!",
and grumbled loudly about “that brat”.
Later, when Mother arrived,
the matron handed me a toy
with a smile,
that did not reach her eyes.
I can still see her
dancing in shadows
but her light
beautifully lingers
as she wanes
and becomes dark
for a brief time
before growing
and being
whole again.
Some say One is the loneliest number,
but Outside comes a summer thunder
and an Otherworldly holiness
arrives to keep her company
with rain playing a timpani
On the roof Of her humble cottage
Of solitude in her matron Old-age.
God is Omega,
the Oxygen we breathe,
the One life we live
Only ever alone, yet not.
The silent kiss can come with secrecy
minus a face to reveal its patron.
Easily detected singing love’s strong melody,
best surprises come from unknown mister or matron.
A twenty-dollar bill found tucked in a pocket
with an unsigned note – spend as you like.
Unasked-for help with a faved broken locket
echoes thoughts of that boy with his thumb in the dike?
Without coveting acclaim for paying-it-forward
the silent kiss means planning things through;
taking serious your promises - keeping your word…
notably to a child who has before mistrusted you.
Cutting single neighbor’s grass and tackling her weeds
can make a difference when she doesn’t have time.
Treating her and her kids to dinner knowing their needs,
the silent kiss takes no account for each nickel or dime.
SIX WOMEN PATIENTS
Six broken women lay down to rest
brown bodies all in a row
six long stories to tell with jest
six smiles with a million tears
race around ward releasing fears
just so
Six windows uncurtained offers
six sunny acacias buffered
trolleys reel, pills and bottles steep
surgeon makes his rounds with a nod
six students in tow
asking six silly questions to know
just so
Six hard beds high, sigh-slept many
linen stiff as a new penny
squishy meal of mieliepap mixed veggies
making six quite edgy
whose next for operation table no-one knows
they can though still touch their toes
just so
six sets of eyes close for night
dream of kids, chicken pie, golden flights
needles, nurses, morphine gone
no slips on escalator or hip joint pain
they reconnect their own wires, abiding fires
flowing into Aegian sea as African queens
awake back in ward, still here
wee patients not free, see ?
Matron says ‘Go pee’
just so
Windows reflects the world outside
Inside, the soul remains concealed.
A ticking clock, a relentless reminder
Of moments passing, unreclaimed.
A diner, a stage for silent dramas
Obsoletion fades stains of trauma.
Each matron, an enigma, unnamed
In the quiet corner, an empty stool...
A cook, a keep, a bartender secretly weeps
polishes glasses, pushing the dregs away.
Waiting for a story untold but not forgotten.
The man lost his wallet
He asked the lady for some change
To buy lunch with promise to pay
The lady gave him enough money
And went along to the market to sell the pig
Later, the man went to see her at the market
To pay for what he owed telling her
He found his wallet in his car
Then he offered money and paid for the pig
And then offered to drive her home two hours by car
She declined unless he agreed to payment for the ride
On arrival, the matron owner of the pig
Grabbed the payment for the pig and left
The lady was heart broken
The man then offered some more money
But the lady refused, telling him that he had
Helped her more than enough
She then gave the man some home product
For him to take home
In the end, he placed the money in the sack
And returned to her claiming it was too bulky.
when she heats, boils, bubbles, then we got real troubles
braised evil perfection, ...matron of deflection
Where is my steed the king asked his wife
She kind of knew but she valued her life
She lied a bit guiding him to an unsuspecting patron
Steed joined her at court, dressed as a pretty matron.
Steed was tired of skirmishes, battles and war.
He said “I am getting older, and my body is sore.”
Steed had always protected queen’s husband, the king.
Queen gave him apples, sugar, and a break that entire spring.
Dying with my duty done, my life’s ambition filled,
I hear and feel the rustling from that which I did build.
Arachni-matron-me, I feasted ‘pon the mate I killed –
Before creating (lovingly?) the sac that holds my brood.
Chitinous appendages – a thousand eight-fold sets –
Scramb-ling, tearing, clawing to escape their natal nets.
Th’time is nigh, I’ll never see their thousand eye octets –
I’m glad I cannot contemplate becoming their first food.
(Poem is an "ochtfochlach", which is an Irish verse form of 8 lines. The rhyme scheme is aaab cccb.)
Written on June 2, 2023 for the "Bag of Spiders Poetry Contest".
The strangest act by a loved patron:
Inviting police and his baton
Over missing drinks in a carton
Reported stolen by a matron.
Now, dragging down club Electron.
She shall change her name to Neutron
Or, still nice and as sweet proton;
She might be sued if it's "Citreon".
But this is lesson for Miriam,
Who would into a cellar ram:
Loved for being a workaholic
Disliked for being Alcoholic.
It’s Jubilee tea at my auntie’s care home
Aunt Phyllis’s hair could do with a comb
But she doesn’t mind and puts on her hat
The queen won’t be there’s no need to flap
The table is laden with all sorts of food
Ada burps loudly she’s so blinking rude
The cucumber sandwich crusts are cut off
My hair won’t stay curly I hear Mable scoff!
Gerald’s secreted cream scones on his lap
I’d not touch them now he’s a dirty old chap
There’s a heated debate is it scone or scon
I do not comment as they have all gone!
Old Edgar demands jelly and ice cream
It’s not on the menu he begins to scream
So he gets everyone to bang their tea cups
They’re acting like kids and not like grown ups
Along comes the matron she says ‘Dearie me,
You are spoiling our Platinum jubilee tea’
Edgar gives her some lip - he’s adept at verbals
He shout’s ‘Matron you just remind me of Goebbels’
Matron is livid, she turns puce in the face
Edgar’s sent to his room, as he’s in disgrace
He is reprimanded for causing such a scene
At the jubilee party for our wonderful Queen.
06/02/22
She never grows old
Though excessively cold
Her happening explode
Alike a rifle reload
Laugh exists as the valley of peace
Being relished she should price modest fees
Mole at the chin, a catalyst to her beauty
Being gazed she must impose a heavy-duty
The nose has a camel hump
Slaughters soul at occasions, while inside concerns she jump(s)
Shall us applaud her as well
Minor sleep has provoked her eyes to swell
Her heterogeneous attire is love
Never doubtful, the woman a gorgeous dove
Nails she bite
Neglecting meals of diet
A matron, imperfectly perfect
Though cerebrum & cerebellum own enormous defect
Watery eyes are testimony of satire
Earning her heart, people ought to be brilliant qualifier(s)
Her, an abstract art
Whom he finds difficult to understand
Truly inaugurated by Almighty's heart
Her, an expensive brand
Her aura enlightens
The dim & dead
Morning brightens
As she communicates eye to eye & head to head
He gets jitter while confronting her slaughtering smile
Barely manages to talk
Since her only job is to send him exile
Yet above all is her seductive cat walk
His highness
Take heed of his shyness
Activate the Argument
David J Walker
A one-world lonely drop
One word then two
From a pile of past important papers
Pinned in the permanent ink of
atavistic fears and instincts
picking
three words then four
voices heard
unseen
in a perturbed
rebirth of a past
manuscript
what has she seen
and when did she see it
what did she mean
and when did she mean it
five words
then six
as thick
as an August evening
on a screened-in porch
You explain
I am the path
But not its patron
I am
The Paterfamilias
And not its Matron
Eight words then ten
And it’s over enough to
Start again
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