family

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Married In Bliss

They no longer trouble each other,
Not the way they did,
When passion’s heat seared
And when they ached to be together.

In their spring, everything was bright,
And right, fresh and new.
But the blossoming of that new growth
Gave way to plain boughs.

Paradise became just a garden,
And it needed work.
The unavoidable work was clear
And they muddled through.

They worked with what they had been given,
Broke earth and broke bread,
And although exhausted by their toil,
Accepted their lot.

Their battlegrounds were defined by chance,
Sowed into that dirt.
Oh, what a place they did build themselves,
Where war and love raged.

Separate allotments developed,
And jealous eyes gazed.
Questioning grounds and decisions made,
Where love was betrayed.

Autumn leaves fell down
And brown mulch decayed to soulless grey.
Winter brought hard frost,
And a silent, barren no man’s land.

But life still takes hold
And complicated accord did out.
A new contract writ,
Brought warring parties back together.

Those things grown with love,
Were set aside for this endeavour,
This togetherness,
The practicalities of being.

There followed beauty,
In their hard-won utopian pax.
Words and deeds dismissed,
For those wars are past and gone and done.

Establishment renewed rivalries,
Then it changed again.
As that new life sowed, looked at them, old,
And took its own root.

Then, new joy was found.
Unexpectedly, they shared again,
Daring to build new edifices,
New memories.

They no longer trouble each other.
Admiration sparked
For what they have achieved,
In their own Eden.

Only life rocks them.
Inevitability managed,
In their slow decline,
Until they harvest that final fruit.

Goodbye

This is my long goodbye.
My preminicious destiny,
Taking away what’s left of me,
Giving way to the lie.

Goodbye. Goodbye. Goodbye.

I’d cry,
But that is yet to come.
I’m done,
But how long to go on?
Those youthful indiscretions haunt me
And my ghosts stalk in the darkness,
Waiting for the moment to eviscerate.
To leave me at first hollow,
My life, disentangled and strewn before me,
Before I am lost to life.

Beware. Beware. Beware. Beware.

My tears would cry dry,
My face feigns hope,
My future concluding.
I am toxic
And I despair.

Despair. Despair.

I walk with you all at my side,
But I am like mummified remains,
Hollowed and transformed,
Yet wrapped in this life,
But I am the ghost,
For my time has done.

My Dad – August 2011

Awkward sod, my dad,
Had the confidence beaten out of him, as a lad.
He created for himself a new set of rules,
A new moral code with which to live,
From the tools he had to hand,
And from what others had to give.

He once met the top man in this and that,
And reminisces of things he’s learned, a lot.
Then he’ll chatter on about the things he’s done,
Bringing poetic license, often into question.

Handy man, my dad, was quick with his fists and his temper,
When he was pissed off we’d run for cover,
Then he got old and a bit calmer.
Still handy though, should have a PHD in using his hands,
His practical skills should be known across the land.
Fix your car, fit your kitchen, plumb your bathroom,
I’m hoping for a loft conversion!

On and on this progression is run,
Copied over from father to son.
Our selfish decisions perpetuated linearly,
Our y chromosome demanding commonality,
Tempered but with perhaps too much similarity.

Great man, my dad,
Thinks he’s somehow insignificant!
Lives for his family,
Has always made us laugh,
And he’s given us all he’s ever had, my dad.