Sunday, 12 March 2017

When?....



When did

The sound of my voice

Become an inconvenient

Noise

At the other end of a phone

The focus of

Forced niceties 

And barely concealed sighs?




When did

An invitation for my presence

At family gatherings

Become a reluctant

Duty

The product of

Guilt-laced obligation

Rather than want?




When did

A loved one's visit

Become an accommodating

Pretence

Of  cheerful attendance

And frequent

Surreptitious glances 

Towards the clock?




When did

My talk and opinions

Become regarded

 Inconsequential babble

Politely tolerated

Through

Placatory smiles

Of covert condescension?




When did

The buoyant and essential me

Become deemed

An irksome burden

A repository 

Of defunct purpose

And ever eroding

Significance?




When did

The value of me

Become measured

Purely by

My fading dexterity

And not by

The vitality

Of my essence?




When?

When I grew old

My friend

When I grew old.



Poem only © Copyright Lynn Gerrard

Sunday, 12 February 2017

Song Of Life...



When

The ground

No longer dances

To the rhythm

Of our tread

When

Our song of life

No longer

Fills the air

When

By man's hand

We are pushed

Into extinction

Will

The absence

Of our music

Bring despair.



Poem only © Copyright Lynn Gerrard

Saturday, 11 February 2017

Everything...



You

Who have

Everything

Would give me

Little

Yet I

Who have little

Would give you

Everything



Poem only © Copyright Lynn Gerrard

Saturday, 4 February 2017

Shadow Dancing...




Our bones may creak

Our skin may sag

But we can leave 

Old age behind

If we dare to step

Beyond the flesh

Onto the dance floor

Of the mind!




Poem only © Copyright Lynn Gerrard

Monday, 30 January 2017

Happiness...



Happiness cracked my ribs

And gave me wrinkles

My laughter lines

Are deeper than an Arctic crack

I have to wear a corset

Since my sides split

And I've been in stitches

More times

Than a needlepoint plaque!

Yes, happiness has caught me

Creased up and crying

Doubled over

And rolling in the aisles

I've bust a gut, cracked up

Thought I was dying

When I got lock jaw

Through an overzealous smile!

Happiness has left me

Panting madly

Struggling to find a breath

In a great guffaw

But more than that

It's made me feel quite shameful

When a chuckling chortle's caused me

To wet my drawers!

All in all

You're welcome to your merriment

But in my case

It's just not working out

The risk assessment's proven

Joy's too damaging

So, I'll medicate on misery

Through a pout.




Poem only © Copyright Lynn Gerrard

Sunday, 29 January 2017

Let My Tears Flow...





Let my tears flow

That they should carry

The unrelenting ache

Of my broken heart

Back to a place

Where once

You and I

Held the other close

And would never be parted.



Poem only © Copyright Lynn Gerrard

Sunday, 22 January 2017

Colours...



All is not lost

Have ye more faith

The light may dim

And in shadow bathe

Still, in the darkness


Should you gaze


You'll catch the colours


Dancing in the shade





Poem only © Copyright Lynn Gerrard

Saturday, 21 January 2017

The Yoke...



A yoke of worry

Presses against my shoulders

As burdensome a weight

As sea soaked sand

Each grain a vessel

Bloated with my troubles

Each step I take

Pulling me closer

Towards the ground

And should I fall

I fear I will not rise again

Solely for the lack

Of a helping hand

Yet were it offered

I doubt that I would take it

What use the gesture

If not the care to understand

Perhaps

If I surrender tthe pressure

Of the weighted sandbags

Swollen with my woes

And allow the gritty contents

To consume me

I would find release

Within death's throes

Or better I should stand

Against such hardship

Refusing to succumb to my life's trials

And free myself of all

That would devour me

By removing sorrows

One grain at a time.



Poem only © Copyright Lynn Gerrard

Saturday, 14 January 2017

Sleep Not...



As weary as I am

I do not crave sleep

I fear its touch

For the loss of all

It takes

For the stolen moments

Of my life it harvests

When spent

I have lost the battle

To stay awake.

I tremble

Before the monsters

Sleep delivers

As they drag

My soul

Through chambers

Bedecked in dread

But most of all

Terror stalks

My senses

With the knowledge that

Sleep is but a taste

Of death.



Poem only © Copyright Lynn Gerrard

Another's Shoes...



A day spent

In another's shoes

May expose a weary trail

Spend but a moment

In their head

To truly witness pain.


 © Copyright Lynn Gerrard

Shackled...



As for the children

There was a deadness

In their eyes

And a darkness

In their souls

For they 

Had been burdened

With the sins of 

Their forefathers

And would be

Forever shackled.




Poem only © Copyright Lynn Gerrard

Fragile Heart...



A heart so fragile

Made of glass

Holding teardrops

From the past




Poem only © Copyright Lynn Gerrard

Monday, 9 January 2017

Melancholia...





Melancholia

Wraps itself

Around my frame

As taut

And as comforting

As a lovers embrace



Poem only © Copyright Lynn Gerrard

Friday, 6 January 2017

The "tut-tut" Brigade....



The older I get

The more I regret

Leaving words unsaid

Caring for feelings

Is most unappealing

The closer I creep towards death

And I truly resent

My reluctance to vent

Just in case I should dare to offend

The delicate senses

Of pedants whose lenses

Are priggishly poised to condemn

I'm also most vexed

With 'politically correct'

When it's usage is overly played

We'll soon be too scared

To utter a word

For fear of the "tut-tut" brigade

If only such focus

Was placed with more onus

On values we used to uphold

Like respect for the other

Regard for another

Society might not be as cold

So, the next time you meet me

Or text me or tweet me

Be aware that whatever I say

Will be spoken with truth

Not malign nor aloof

But no doubt in an 'inappropriate' way.




Poem only © Copyright Lynn Gerrard

Tuesday, 3 January 2017

Leaving Home...



She removed her things

From the bedroom wall

And lied

"That didn't hurt at all"

But father saw

In mothers eyes

The welling tears

She could not hide

And with a kiss

Upon her cheek

He held her close

So she could weep

And gently soothed

"We must move on

And let her live

The life she wants"

And mother cried

"I know that's true

That is what I

Intend to do

But father

Have a mind to see

The lingering memories

Shadowing me.

The mark upon the wall

Just there

Is where once leaned

Her Teddy Bear

And in that corner

On that chair

When she was small

I'd plait her hair

Then from that hook

Behind the door

Her little coat

Would hang before

I'd drape it

'round her tiny shape

'fore we set off 

Towards

School gates"

There Mother paused

Sobs locked in throat

As father, worried

For her distressed chokes

Tenderly whispered

Words to ease

Mother's plaintive

Reveries

"Dry those tears, love

Do not fret

We'll visit her often

And don't forget

Your little girl

She'll always be

But it's time to let go

Mother

She's 43!"




Poem only © Copyright Lynn Gerrard