Poetry

Things go rotten.

Foul and stained.

The odours that waft

Makes gagging inane.

People corrupted

Bring relationships to an end.

The stench of their lives

Creates a world to mend.

We care more for ourselves

And forget our neighbours.

A smile.

A wave hello.

Who leaves behind a legacy

Where the sweet smell of them flows?

Gardens are for enjoying.

Landfills only get trashed.

Showers.

Dressed.

Pick up the miscellaneous.

Drive to the gathering.

Arrive and be welcomed

As one who is loved.

Dread in anticipation.

Fear of being judged.

Hark the time of jubilation.

Family should be joy.

Sometimes, things are learned too late.

Love still surrounds,

But understanding takes the back seat.

If only the camera was ready.

High Functioning.

Low Functioning.

Functioning to be alive.

Society thinks you are okay

If you show signs of competence.

Does it matter if you break down?

Only if it is in public

and then you are only shamed.

Time slows down.

It never stops.

The lights flicker.

Then they pop.

Life moves on.

Death comes for all.

Nothing is certain.

Nature makes us small.

We begin a fire.

Tinder used first.

The flames burn brighter.

Then coals are produced.

Things begin.

Things end.

We all live and die

but the flames inside

are what we burn for.

When she leaves

Quiet reigns.

The house is emptier

and bigger.

She is given more freedom

there with him.

Yet some weekends

she prefers to stay with me.

She has her own room

at each parents place.

She has chores to do

that each require doing.

Yet both of us love her

and at her Father’s House

I know I can trust him

to take care of her.

That is why

she loves us both.

Drained.

Exhausted.

Frozen in Time.

Push the Envelope.

Dare to Try.

Energy Removed.

Push Back.

Denial is denied.

For the past couple years

During this pandemic

Getting sick has been scary.

Yet manageable

Due to regulations

And paranoia.

So imagine getting a cold

After having avoided one

For years?

The awful flow

From nose and throat

Only making the skin

Around the protuberances red

And raw.

At least it wasn’t Covid.

Thankfully

Not this time.

Tire tracks

Left behind

From a scared

Or rushed driver.

Things don’t

Always tell

The truth

When half

Of the story

Is left out.

Why?

Only they can tell you.

And they are no longer here.

But they have left

Physical evidence

Behind.

Do you really want to know the story?

Or is it enough

To shake your head

As you walk on by.