Archive for grief


Posted in Poetry, Short Poems, writing with tags , , , , , on January 28, 2019 by dustus

Once mourning welcomes darkness
Before grief burns to its end
Each day as bright as candlelight
When your heart won’t seem to 

Yet amid such deep set loneliness
These times leave healing change
And remains of loving vigilance
Seeing through life’s pain


“Bermuda Urn”

Posted in Image Poetry, One Stop Poetry, Poetry Reading, Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , on January 25, 2011 by dustus

When is life held in gold russet skies?
Vermilion glows, seagull glides…
Or cremation of muscle pulp
Mortar and pestled brain
Grains of sand trapped
Fevered oasis, metempsychosis
Cuticles and burnt hands
Without explanation as to how
We crawl from water, withstand
Nor why free radicals spread illness
Universal mitosis, for giving, then taking,
Our time…

Your body could not win that fight
Razed to die, its own undoing

Condensed via fire into a “Bermuda Urn”
Calling it that throughout your hurt
One lifetime more than a story…
Prior to sailing north of cancer

Her wit seldom lost then
Leaving me now without her laughter

Ex rays, cat scans, biopsies, skin grafts
Vomit, holding her hair back
Malignant ugly purplish bruising
Red bandanna covering bald head
Still meaning each word, every single thing
When I said that you were beautiful
Won’t forget those long drives
Venting for lest it drain in truth

Trips over The Ambassador Bridge
Both loving Vonnegut

Trying not to go broke dying
PT, OT, loss of limb
Watching her struggle on prosthetic leg
Her arm shook supported by cane
Painfully—self-awareness of living unable

Sadly, cursing fate
And all lifelong “friends”
Who out of convenience

Walked away

Before her fatal conclusion; there was a will
She planned a “Bermuda Urn” in pink ink

That made me squint at the torn spiral page
For herself spread, becoming over ocean

Immunity being without design here
Unlike a box of Wheaties, Shredded Wheat
“So it goes…”  Incomplete
You were my champion
In the throes of cosmic jokes
Left in trade winds of connection
Charred vestiges of insanity
Love, I’ll always miss you
Wishing you would come back to me

Care for a reading?


Unable To Keep In Touch (In Memoriam—Thomas Flynn)

Posted in Blog, people, Poetry, writing with tags , , , , , , , on May 15, 2009 by dustus

Never really got to say goodbye
Many years have now passed by
No matter what becomes my fate
Part of me regrets the space

Everyone moved away
That summer of ’92 was torture
All my friends took off to college
Feeling depressed and working collared
I did not bother—was not being a good friend at all

then…toward summer’s end…

At our last of the graduation parties
Forgot whose, could have been the booze
Memories of that time in our lives faded a bit
Remember was a small bonfire out back, smoldering pine smell
We drank from a keg of Bud Light
Tasted flat from sunlight and not enough ice
All the stars were out that night
I recall thinking
How the moonshine gripped me
Summer passed by quicker
Than initially surmised
Nobody saw me cry
Such a tough guy
Had to be
Figured my future was not aligned
Made a wish on a star that my depression
Could subside without my friends nearby
Smashed inventive phrase-coining invectives
Many amazing times automatically called to mind
Man, so much fun were those crazy nights
Only you knew I was half-dead to Life
Letting my potential seem like a waste

You were the one who first showed me New York City
That freedom agreed with me
Felt so bad you were leaving
Being jealous of so many others’ opportunities
I said nothing.  Bottled up all my feelings
For those who had become my real friends
Did not want to be seen as dumb
Everyone but Flynn thought college prestigious
Jesus, why take him so young!

We talked about girls, high school being torture
Florida State, freshman football, my 9-to-5 world
The rest of our lives we jokingly mulled over
That’s what I recall with a smile
Our conversations were never forced
I was going to visit second semester
When back in Jersey would still be shitty weather

By 3 am people were leaving
To new lives fleeing, familiar faces
Destinations of many new places
Co-eds I’ll probably never know again
And my dearest of all friends
People wishing well and peace
Sloppy drunks and tires screech
Hand shakes and hugs
Wished luck
Never in my life thought
We’d be unable to keep in touch
Still miss you very much