A Short Cut Out Of Here Broken green bottle Waiting for him on the street Those sharp, sharp edges
The Mind Is Its Own Place she speaks of dying a friend lost in her own mind a place I… Read more The Mind Is Its Own Place
What We Should Leave Our Loved Ones when all this is over when you are all done what will there… Read more What We Should Leave Our Loved Ones
You Just Stop Breathing Don’t You? How does dying go? You just stop breathing, don’t you? What more could there… Read more You Just Stop Breathing Don’t You?
Death visits regularly on this street.
Many of the people you might meet
have lived here for a long time,
right up until the day they died.
Watching People Die I sat and watched her as she died. My grandmother, Winnie. Her skin, always white and weather… Read more Watching People Die
another year gone and still we cannot forget those who are not here
Carved on the stone is a name long forgot Cut by the hand of a man we know not The… Read more Unmark My Grave
Dragging on, drawn out and drugged up, demented or diseased, and probably both, the ending we will meet is not… Read more The Way To Go
Icy cold north wind Blowing through the bones of us As cold as the dead
Burned someone today. A good woman, vital, lively, loved. Her time came too early in the middle of her life.… Read more On Early Death
Petals fall softly All that lives must one day die Even those we love In memory of my little sister,… Read more Nothing Lives Forever
A relative dies. A good-hearted young woman. Life, and death, are cruel.
Death on the footpath A life ended at my feet I just walk on by
We were boys back then, when days were longer. We were stronger, too, in body and in mind. In time… Read more No End To Time
When you were here I did not hear you I did not listen to you You were just you –… Read more When You Were
Distant caws of crows Like a chorus of the dead A lamentation
So brief is this life from beginning to ending like a desert bloom
This ludicrous life is most easily ended with a simple kiss
The dying flower. Like youth and beauty and fame, it has a season.
Talons like daggers The sparrowhawk assassin Takes death from the air
Life is beautiful. It gives us one last glory. Letting go of it.
An old neighbour dies. We are still for the cortège. Eloquent silence.
The garden at dawn, early morning outside space. Sunlight shines through petals. Mere purple turns to violet, white shines brighter;… Read more Sunlight Through Petals
The nesting season. Bringing new life to the world. Letting old life go.