REMOTE CONTROL. A dark poem

This poem is personal and shows how memories and people, even deceased ones, can still haunt us despite the passage of time,

Remote Control

After all these years
you still have control.

I'm powerless, listening
to your filthy, foul-mouthed rantings.

I dare not glance away, lest
you threaten to smash my head
to a pulp again,

your lips curl with venom
as they spit more expletives,

fists clenched,
eyes wide and staring, as you
punch the wall.

Shattered plaster drips blood
and I notice that hole in the door
needs filling.

I want to run, but you're faster

You goad me to fight back but
I'm numb - would say or do
the wrong thing.

It used to take very little.

A spilt teacup or forgotten ingredient
for lunch,

trivialities, but not to you.

How is it I still want you?
long for your weight on mine.

Still desire those looks
that first drew me to you.

then....

I am awake, steeped in sweat;
my heart exploding in my chest.

You still wield control,
even from your grave. 

(C)   Ann Wilson

Lady Rhyme R.I.P

Some people on a certain poetry site I'm on, rubbish this genre of poem, so I wrote this to annoy them!



 Lady Rhyme R.I.P

This day is sad for Lady Rhyme,
cut down so cruelly in her prime.
Free verse fiends now rule the pages,
where Rhyme had triumphed o'er the ages.

Yes, Rhyme is dead and buried here,
no longer thriving, bringing cheer.
All that's left is boring prose;
random metaphor, no one knows.

Remember how we liked to rhyme,
with metered flow, that was sublime.
So rest in peace beloved verse,
victim of non-rhymer's curse.

LITTLE BOY BLUE

This poem is about my baby brother who we never got to know, as he was stillborn.

Before your birth we revelled
at thoughts of being big sisters.

I knew you'd be a boy
and named you Patrick.

On lazy summers we'd parade you
in the park.

On toddler-tantrum days
you might trash our rooms.

We'd get mad but melt at those
eyes of baby-blue.

And your eyes were blue.
Blue as the hue of sea and sky.

But you were still.
Mother's blood had made you blue.

"He's perfect though" Father said.

We didn't see you

They thought it best.

There was no funeral

No grave nor plaque.

Nothing.

.

My back garden

Me and friend Maureen in Blackpool many moons ago!!

Feeling sad..

The new year started well.  We moved into our lovely bungalow at the end of November and had just about got organised before Christmas. Our lovely dog Rosie settled better than we expected.

Then last Thurday 7th January she died. It was very sudden. She had been restless the night before and wasn't any better in the morning. Off her food and short of breath plus drinking more than usual.

Then she collapsed so we called the vet to come out but she died before they arrived. They think it was her heart though she was fine the days before. 

We are heartbroken

RIP lovely Rosie. Glad we were there to comfort you in your last hours. You were faithfull and loving to the end xxx

Moving

I'm excited as we've been offered a housing association bungalow. Popped over to see it on Friday and we couldn't believe how spacious it is for a one bedroomed place. It's in a lovely village with a good range of facilities and two pubs - can't be bad!!  Best bit though,
is that we can take our lovely Rosie,  as dogs are allowed.

The garden is a good size, not  like this big field we have here, but glad about that. Too high maintenance for us now.

Will miss our lovely neighbours Sue & Mike but we'll keep in touch I'm sure.

Can't wait to move in now.