Friday, 18 February 2022

A BRIEF WHISPER

I have been writing about my parents recently. I do not know why, there are no anniversaries immanent. Sometimes one thought just leads to another. It can be that simple.

my father marooned in his house

lung wrecked in the wing back chair


his focus on the procession of his breath

the inhale silent

the exhale a brief whisper


he rewatches the programmes

he did not like the first time round


there is a certain safety in knowing what comes next


until the wiring in his head begins to short circuit

leaves him sleeping an assisted sleep


until it is time to shake his body off

he kicks off from the side

pushes out into the deep

My father had emphysema, it dictated his final years, but did not kill him. He died of a number of mini-strokes. I miss him. This poem is about his end days.

I am not happy with the layout. It looks cluttered, perhaps it reflects life? This is definitely a work in progress. I suppose setting myself the task of posting a poem  a week means there are going to be times when I am not happy with the draft. So watch this space.

Hurray For The Riff Raff has a new album out. I am eagerly awaiting the posty to deliver my copy. Here's Pierced Arrows.

Until next time.

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