Poetry & Stories

He entered the poorly lit room which had stayed the same ever since he had been born, on that cold day of December 1941 when the German planes flew overhead and his mum squeezed him out in fear and trembling, trembling as the bombs hit the garden and threw dirt and rock all across the windows, windows which were meant to be barricaded but stood open to allow fresh air in on that day of labour. This room had stood the test of time, it was in this very room that life had been given to him, and now, by his own hand, he would take that life away.

He looked around for his tools, his equipment, the ones that had been put there for this particular purpose, the ones that his relatives would find wrapped tight around his neck and lying on the wooden floor.

The butt of his tool sprung into his vision. Satisfied, he bent over to extract it from its hiding place. It was on point, nice and firm, and would not fail him. Not this time. The rope marks on his neck burned as the blood pumped past it, and he remembered his last attempt to take his own life.

What choice did he have? There was nothing left in this world. His wife divorced him and took the kids after cheating on him with his brother, the same brother who had cold-bloodedly murdered his best friend on a drunken night. This led to him killing his brother as hatred and rage built against him and went past its boiling point as it spilled in a flurry of fists and strikes. His wife, his kids, his brother, and his job too had been taken away from him. Even his own parents no longer spoke to him, let alone acknowledge that he still existed. But the worst blow had been when he discovered that no money was left in his bank account. As to how this had happened, nobody seemed to know.

He sighed as he put the chair in place, climbed it, and sealed the ropes which were impatiently waiting to strangle him. The clock ticked and his heartbeat slowed to a steady thump as he slowly calmed himself down and prepared for his… vacation.

The rope now around his neck, he stood on the chair, and let himself be aware that he still saw, still breathed, still lived. His grandmother this time would not be there to suddenly wreck his suicide attempt, because she also had died this very morning. He had discovered her dead on the kitchen floor as she cooked toast, and upon catching her in that state, he had felt no remorse, just morning hunger, which led him to eat the toast which she had been preparing for him and to leave her where she lied.

At worst, he would apologize when he saw her…

That said, he kicked the chair aside.

Posted in Short Stories and Really Short Stories

She lied in the middle of a field, arrayed in simple robes. The wind brushed her tears as it cuddled the pastures, and wrapped itself around nearby trees.

She did not feel its touch, did not hear its sigh as it weaved through branches. Its melody was lost to her as she slept.

How deeply she slumbered. She found herself in a field of tulips, which swayed to a pleasant breeze. She gravely marvelled at their perfume. A creature stood facing her. She gasped as she beheld it; it was a perfect reflection of her: miserable, beaten, haggard. It gazed at her knowingly, as if they had already met. It parted its lips to speak, but no sound came. Instead, she felt the breeze caress her tenderly, and words come into her mind:

Again I see the simplicity of the robes you wear,

As well as the sorrow you cradle and bear,

Again you shed tears on a daily basis,

Having mistaken a mirage for an oasis.

Her eyes widened in sadness as she recalled the creature from dreams past. Before she knew it, the wind assailed her:

I see how you flitter from man to man,

Hoping each will love you as best they can,

So you give of yourself without giving a thought,

Only to be discarded like a product ill-bought.

Tears filled the creature’s eyes, and she helplessly felt her own eyes moisten.

‘Get away!’ she cried, ‘Why do you still haunt my every dreams?’

I will haunt you and daunt you till the end of your days,

Out of wishing an end to your promiscuous ways,

Out of wishing an end to the use and abuse,

Till you’re no longer confused or refused by mere men.

The wind raged. The creature’s appearance altered. Its jaw widened, its muscles broadened as it grew taller, until it resembled her last lover. He grinned.

Hate clouded her as she beheld him. ‘You!’ she gnarled, with pain wrung in her voice, ‘You promised...’

Her lover’s impersonation’s mouth cracked opened: ‘There yer go whining’ again, always yappin yer trap about marriage an’ shit.’ He shrugged, and grinned, ‘Ma friend was right though... you was a fine bitch.’

Again the creature’s aspect shifted until it looked liked her. Her face was full of pity. One by one, as if to emphasize the bareness she felt, the tulips’ petals were blown by the wind.

How long will you sleep in the middle of fields,

And repel my advice with sticks and shields?

Get away from this place, stay put till you’ve grown,

By then your husband will come all on his own.

To her horror, the creature transformed again into her lover.

‘Why do you torment me so?’ she moaned, ‘Why can’t you leave me alone?’

‘Coz yer never listen.’ The impersonation said, as he stepped towards her menacingly, ‘Stop flirtin’ wit those other boys!’

She raised her arms protectively as he aimed to strike her, pleading.

And woke up in the field.

Posted in Short Stories and Really Short Stories

I wish I could see, the people I’ve seen,

And the places I’ve been, but these have all passed,

I wish I could feel, the relationships,

And kisses on lips, but these do not last,

So here I am now, with tears in my mind,

Since time is unkind, while it passes me by,

And I find myself wanting, to see them once more,

Coz my heart is still sore, from our previous good-bye,

But there’s no time to cry, it’s all in the past,

So I move on real fast, but there’s nowhere to go,

In my heart I say no, she will not be the last,

God will give me one other, who can fill up this void,

So do not be paranoid, she will come in her time,

But my brain is still sore, from our previous good-bye,

She was not mine, and yet had a way, of saying hi,

There was affection, such motion, expressed with emotion,

Such a feeling of closeness, with one of God’s creation,

So completing, so fulfilling, and yet also clean,

Nothing sexual, nothing hurtful, and not a thing mean,

There was honesty, modesty, with some anger and lies,

But these came from misunderstanding, and intended no harm,

One man, one woman, God taught me from above,

The unspoken delicacies, of Platonic Love,

So in my sadness and wishes, I look to God’s riches,

Which are not found when looked for, but are present when asked for,

The delights of life, which help us adore,

The Provider, so I thank Him, from the heart of my core,

By His grace indeed, I will have them once more.

Posted in Poetry

There once was a time, when I was in the crib,

Of the one who kept me, being short of one rib,

When compared to the man, to the masculine figure,

Who was my father on earth, although another was bigger,

And another was smaller, I talk of none but myself,

At a time when I was tinier, than the tiniest shelf,

I could neither talk nor walk, I could hardly move,

I was fixed in a prison, which never failed to soothe,

My nerves as I lied, in a new hostile world,

Where the furniture and toys, were like huge creatures,

In my mind which would twirl, from a state of rest,

To a state of unrest, as these lifeless features,

Seemed to threaten my sanity, into insanity itself,

Though there was one person, I could rely on, for help,

She could feed me and nurse me, at the ringing of a yelp,

I was dependent on she, who brought me to this place,

This place of shapes and colours, which I could not explain,

This scope of existence, which I had yet to embrace,

In my subconscious and conscious, in the midst of all the pain,

Which comes with helplessness, with confusion and loss,

Which comes with the acceptance, that I’m no longer the boss,

Of my climate, my setting, and my surroundings,

This place where dad’s king, and where mommy’s the queen,

Ever since I came on earth, not knowing how long it’s been,

Since my last meal, such thirst, but the attachment is stronger,

Between myself, and my mother every time the breast flashes,

Finding myself being nourished, hunger crumbling to ashes,

Sense of comfort coming back, every time that the manure

Is wiped off, my ass is clean, all that mass just felt so mean,

Sense of wonder as I see, things get smaller below me,

As my brother lifts me up, giving me a bird’s eye view,

Of the world which is my room, in my mind the joy will bloom,

Into bliss, all was good, all was easy as they stood,

All round me, all was nearly, fully misunderstood,

In that mind of mine but hey, all was blessed I have to say,

Life was food and fun and wonder, each and every single day,

Mixed with fears and much confusion, but I know things were okay,

Coz I now look back, after looking at the present,

And I know they did well, God gave me a real present,

By sticking me in this place, so just ponder, and maybe,

You’ll see what life was like, when I was a little baby.

Posted in Poetry

Relentless, merciless heat asphyxiating skin,

The swirling of dust clinging to sweating nostrils,

Harsh intakes and outtakes of gases,

The reluctance of taking another step,

A heart eager for retirement,

The lowering of the head, the slowing of footsteps…

A fresh breeze,

The craning of the skull at a familiar smell,

The widening of eyes at a familiar sight,

The shuffling of hopeful feet,

The vultures’ disappointment,

Finally, the falling of tired knees,

An utterance to the God of Classical Theism,

Gurgles, gurgles, gurgles,

An audible sigh,

The wide stretching of lip muscles.

Posted in Poetry