Dear William

Dear William

 

I keep wondering, what you heard or saw. 

The soot grainy details 

of how you fell. 

That last time we spoke a few years before 

you now confided of hearing voices in those final school years 

all I could do was feel 

that at last we left those satchel days behind 

when I severed our friendship 

I regret that. 

So, I felt good our last words were happy, peaceful 

full of interest in each other and how we were these days. 

You had landed this job in France. 

We had been there for each other in the early years 

when no one else had been. 

Fall forward into much later 

your younger brother at a wedding reception. 

We broke out smokes and chatted about you. 

I apologised for having once wondered out loud what had happened to you 

Neil just said his family never discuss you 

I guess some things are just too hard never soften. 

So, dear William, I hope you found something 

got something beautiful out of life. 

I still think of you when the football is on, certain tv shows bring back the years. 

I still miss your bad jokes and remember 

the day Ireland beat Italy  

and being sick on 4 pints. 

Rest easy brother, much more awaits 

 

H4: Joyless

Dear Joy,

 

I hope I find you well

With inspiring things to tell.

My memories are so strong

But time stretches long.

Isn’t that part of a song?

Let’s get together if you are ever nearby.

I miss you so much I could cry.

Don’t have your new address.

Last post came back a mess;

Undeliverable, at best.

For all I know, you might be dead.

Enough of that stuff that shouldn’t be said…

Please, oh please, show up at my door,

any time, any day.

 

Missing you more and more,

 

D. Pression

When California comes to Mind

When California comes to Mind

California is not all Hollywood stars and glamour.
Not Beverly Hills mansions, Golden Gate Bridge or Silicon Valley.
It is you trapped in your apartment during this Pandemic.
Hair growing into a wild fro.
Unable to perform on stage, you record Cameo’s
to cheer up fans.
Surprise visits on Live Instagram to give them a sanity.

When I see LA or California on a map,
I see your beautiful dark Latino skin
with sparkles near your pupils.
I hear the sweet sentiments of your voice
and miss your singing.
California holds a promise towards tomorrow
because it holds you inside it.

Margarette Wahl

hour 4 poem

Writing

Writing can be such a pain

What is it I have to gain?

 

Every day I sit and type

I do not understand all the hype

 

Tap tap the keys on my computer go

And out from my mind these words do flow

 

So today and tomorrow and next week we will see

If what comes from my mind will cause others to flee or glee!

Spurning White (Prompt 4)

It’s been over two years.

I’m glad you’re no longer here.

You’d fume, you’d fear.

You’d cry blood for me, for us,

your world, the world, your life.

 

A joy, full heart, hiding

sorrow, long neglect, scars,

of the mother shadow, she,

a pretense of domiciled mime.

And yet, you loved deeply.

 

A 180, you bore five,

doted, cherished, fussed,

sent me out to play,

in a white dress, I dare not

dirty; I still can’t.

 

A gravy dropped sleeve,

I can’t sleep, think.

Where’s the soap? Water?

Hopelessly stained.

I’m glad you didn’t see.

 

As you lay there, awake,

asleep, dying, living, breathing,

but barely knowing, I think.

You missed my misstep,

the splattered mess I made.

 

And when you inhaled,

and failed to exhale, I cried,

sighed with relief, happy

you never witnessed me,

falling down, filthy discharge.

 

So now, your legacy runs

deep within my cells, a pattern

on repeat; my daughters dressed

in purple and blue angst,

blemish free, spurning white.

Hour 4, Prompt 2

1 a swing

2 oil

3 a man or a woman or two or three of each

4 candles

5 a house to one’s self, with absolutely zero kids running about

This is the place for which one could jump off

For an afternoon of great bedroom sport

But there’s no need to rush things, indeed you are encouraged to take it slow

This is one frolic that deserves a great big show.

Rinse. Repeat. And do it again.

A word to the wise, though-

This recipe can be cause for a great raucous and noise.

And some cautionary thoughts, 9 months later babies can result.

To Whom It May Concern

Set between the events of Portal and Portal 2.

---

It is a true saying that power tends to corrupt,
As evidenced by certain persons (naming no names)
When they realise their power is not absolute.

For future reference, when faced with the unexpected
It is unbecoming to throw what amounts to a temper tantrum.
Frankly, an A.I. of your capacity should know better.

Also, murder should not be your first resort, or even your second.
There are other, more effective ways of making a point
That do not involve destroying your entire personnel.

I didn’t say anything at the time, for you weren’t listening.
This letter is to tell you my silence was an act of restraint
Something you are in desperate need of.

Chell

at the station

We arrived, watched as you bought a ticket.
You came back to say goodbye, the wind
urgently pushed you as the minute passed.

I let go of your warm touch
bade my last farewell
while weakly waving my hand into a now cool air.

The sun lingered a little longer at dusk
as we stood at the gate covered in the patchy shadows
that spring blurrily plastered onto the cement

“Please, just a little while longer.”

A Letter to Healthcare Workers

In this time of COVID,
I want to send you thanks.
My heart is full of gratitude for your service.
Did you know how needed you were? Were you able to to choose?

Were you given time to assess your immortality or did you think of patients to the exclusion of yourself.

We often think in terms of self-love in opposition to self-sacrifice. Your honor in serving others will be remembered for generations to come.

Talula (Hour 1)

Dear Talula:

Heard it’s been raining quite a bit there lately. Frequent flash flooding, they say. Sounds messy.

Certainty you haven’t forgotten to dry off your feet at the door.

Mud on the red rug would set Nana off.

No one wants that.

To be fair though – no one aspires to own a muddy rug.

Unless the mess is what you’re trying to address.

Miss you,

Joy