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Grieving in Unison
Walking to the shops from a distance I espy A grey coat backed by a pale hand And thoughtlessly I wonder why Why would you ever hug yourself With one hand when you can fake it with two And there is two both crying softly Melded together each other hand’s held Grieving in unison breathing…
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Polite Ignorance
Of course one could endure the sullen silence Of words spoken With no listening echo Penned notes reposted But never returned An unending slow suffocating absence. Of course one embraces the silky acquiescence Of promises made Then never redeemed Accidentally overlooked But deliberately forgotten Polite ignorance too is a sullen silence.
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What is the best obituary?
How do you really write the life of another? Will 400 or so words really cover his life? In truth, neither eulogy nor funeral notice nor Dad’s autobiography fully recorded his life. Truly an obituary has no chance.
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The Most Difficult Part
Which was the most difficult part Was it the bone-breaking pain Or the striving to heal my heart Was it secretly nurturing a love apart Or leaving yet then deciding to remain Which was the most difficult part Was it before, during and after our time apart Setting aside efforts spent without pain Or the…
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Wisdom is a Cappucino
“A small cappuccino with a half sugar, please.” You remembered, she thought as she looked at me. “And a large flat white for me.” $3.95 for the cap and I can’t remember what I paid for mine. But I do recall the wisdom that cappucino bought . Our paths had crossed yet again on of…
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Day 11: The Return
That’s how long it has taken me to settle in. Or rather pick up a pen and write about it. Apart from the incomplete and scattered musings and snippets that pose as poetry. I’ve relocated. To a new job : IT Trainer (similar to but not the same as the past role). To a new…
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The Final Drowning
The clouds empty Their burden released overwhelms me. The rivers swell Their banks once broken dissolves me. The seas rose Their waves overtopped and suffocated me. Afterwards I knew We all drowned by standing silent and still.
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It’s Journalism wot lost it
I follow politics keenly but come the election being called, the only coverage consists of polls, gaffes and photo opportunities. Every. Single. Time. Certainly the last week’s coverage has been the most boring ever: let’s talk about the gaffe again and again and again. Although this week we won’t talk about the other gaffe. Oh…
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Andrew James Whalan 