Hope holds on

Hope;
Hold on.
Clutch at straws,
And cling to us.

Hope;
Hold on.
Don’t leave her this way,
Bring her to us.

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There’s a World outside my window

There’s a World outside my window,
And to me, it becks and calls.
It’s shrieking from the rooftops,
And it’s rattling all the doors.

There’s a World outside my window,
And something keeps me from it all.
Because there’s something deep inside me,
And It keeps me prisoner in my room.

The Lady and the Seraph

For my wonderful Great-Grandmother, I love and miss you dearly.

One morning as day was dawning,
On a most bright, but dismal day.
The Sun shone through the curtains,
And the darkness drew away.

Sitting at the end of her bed,
Was the most remarkable of all God’s creatures.
They drew her hair from her sleeping face,
And gazed upon her delicate features.

At that most precise and perfect moment,
She opened her unknowing eyes,
And absorbed the Seraph’s illustrious face.
But to her, this was not a surprise.

‘I know why you are here, and where I am to go.’
A gentle smiled formed upon her lips.
She took the Seraph’s soothing hand,
And the Seraph was transfixed.

How gracious was the lady,
Who had smiled in the face of death.
And willingly accepted it all,
Within her expiring breath.

That day God gained an Angel,
And that Angel was she.
And I find comfort, as I firmly believe,
She’s up there, watching over me.

After W.H.Auden

This is a poem I wrote after W.H.Auden’s ‘Funeral Blues’, I wanted to expand on the feelings that Auden had mentioned in his poem and added my own narrative to it so I could expand on those feelings. The italicised parts are original pieces of text from Auden’s poem.

 

Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone
He mumbled mournfully, in hushed tones.
And for once there was silence, in the place he called ‘home’.
He refused to keep company, he just sat there alone.

The air raid sirens sounded over his head,
They appeared to wail too, now that he was dead.
Nothing could cheer him, not even the birds,
Who sang and called to him, but they were not heard.

To him he was everything, he could not be replaced,
And he sat by the window, with an expressionless face.
Every day he sat there, from dawn to dusk,
Would talk to no one, to all he was brusque.

He sat by the window in his bedroom,
By the desk and his papers, all a mass of gloom.
And he stared at the path that led up to his door,
As he hoped he’d come to see him, just once more.

It was evident on him the strain,
But he did come to him once again.
He wandered in his dreams at night,
His smile soft and his eyes so bright.

In the morning when he would wake,
How his pitiful heart would ache.
But every night he closed his eyes,
He fulfilled his wish of saying goodbye.

My North, My South, My East, My West,
Without your love, I cannot rest.
Pack up the Moon, dismantle the Sun,
For without you, for me there is none.’

Words with the Moon (Unfinished)

Oh lucid moon,
Your stare so cold and distant.
And as you reveal yourself,
From the London smog.
I am beguiled by your form.
Omniscient but reticent,
You watch over us
Our World’s still bystander.
Won’t you relinquish your silence,
And tell me what you see?

‘Turbulent tides,
change before my eyes.
When darkness is wreaked,
And imposed upon the world
The unsightliness of it all is revealed.
Walls and barriers that divide,
When you people should be allies.’

‘Why do you not love one another?
Why do you hurt, hate and betray each other?

The Oseberg

The room scarcely alive
With the sound of hollow steps.

Excavated from home soil
From glorious Earth’s depths.

Endless eyes that glance over
The embellished and handcrafted form.

Won’t understand her strength within
Because no longer does she ride the storm.

Kinsmanship that has been forgotten
For the hands that crafted are long gone.

Won’t ever feel the salty waves again
Or hear a Viking’s song.

She cares not for visitors
Who come to fill an empty afternoon.

Neither does she care for guides
Who feel their words to be a boon.

But how she longs to be caressed
By the unrelenting sea.

And waves that crash and break upon
The beautiful bow of she.