Tag Archives: brother

In the Bluebell Wood

26th April 2007, my father’s 77th birthday
between 0100hrs & 0945hrs, my brother died.

So you were backed into a corner
the one where honour meets death
and by the light of a crescent moon
you gently eased the black hose
between the exhaust pipe
and the passenger windows
air gaps stuffed
with a Christmas scarf
of creamy cashmere wool
sealing your coffin of a car

Seat back flat you lay
watching the drifting clouds
of your last Spring night
you heard the haunting calls
from Rotherfield woods
saw the blink of the bat’s wing
on the edge of sight
heard the hoot of white faced owl
jarring the quiet night
and the gentle rumble
of the old Renault’s engine

That single molecule of Oxygen
locked you away
from fresh life breath
the steady pulse of the motor
rocking you asleep.

Bluebell dancing morning
sweet scented and warm
two ladies out riding
find you alone and hiding
from the day.

© M.L.Emmett

Bluebells in Greys Court 2

 

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Filed under Death, Grief, Love, Poem

Sewing the Moon in the Sky

I have sown the moon in the sky for you
so every night its there for you to see

I have stopped every clock from ticking time away
I have turned the tides back from the shore

I have stopped your world in blue belled Spring
and locked my in the falling leaves of Autumn

So now you can rewind the moments of the world
You can go back, to that one moment of choice

and never find the hose, nor set the engine deadly running
nor send those texts of fond farewells, to friends who looked away

nor write to me with love a comfort letter
for the dreadful loss.

No! Just you:
the tufted, still blonde cowlick sticking up
the crinkled nose and cheeky smile
those sea blue eyes to drown in
strong brown arms, muscles flexed and toned
wrapped tight around me warm
and alive.

© M.L.Emmett

Moon Leaf

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In the Bluebell Wood

26th April 2007 , my father’s 77th birthday
between 0100hrs & 0945hrs, my brother died.

So you were backed into a corner
the one where honour meets death
and by the light of a crescent moon
you gently eased the black hose
between exhaust pipe
and passenger windows
air gaps stuffed
with a Christmas scarf
of creamy cashmere wool
sealing your coffin of a car

Seat back flat you lay
watching the drifting clouds
of your last Spring night
you heard the haunting calls
from Rotherfield woods
saw the blink of the bat’s wing
on the edge of sight
heard the hoot of white faced owl
jarring the quiet night
and the gentle rumble
of the old Renault’s engine

That single molecule of Oxygen
locked you away
from fresh life breath
the steady pulse of the motor
rocking you asleep.

Bluebell dancing morning
sweet scented and warm
two ladies out riding
find you alone and hiding
from the day.

Bluebells in Greys Court 2

 

 

 

 

© M.L.Emmett

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Filed under Death, Grief, Poem

Sonnet for a Suicide

                  

                Image by Davena Hooson

Inspired by Robert Pinsky

Morning sun on his face

steady motor murmur

vibrating the hose

Bluebells clamber

over the hill’s top –

nothing to remember

only the same engine noise

that keeps making the same sounds

under his head poised

and pulsing the same beat

no-one to say his name,

no need, no-one to praise him

only the engine’s voice – over

and over, running under him.

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Filed under Death, Poem