I've changed my ways a little; I cannot now
run with you in the evening along the shore, Exceptin a kind of dream; and you, if you dreamt a moment, too see me there.

so leave awhile the paw-marks along the front door
where I used to scratch and go out or in, and you'd soon open' and you'd soon open; leave on the kichen floor
the marks of my drinking -pan

I cannot lie by your fire as I used to do
on the warm stone, nor at the foot of your bed;
no all the night through I lie alone.
but your kind thought has laid me less than six feet
outside your window where the firelight so often plays, and where you sit to read--and I fear grieving for me--
every night your lamplight lies on my play.

you, man, and woman live so long, it's hard
to think of you ever dying
a little dog would get tired of living so long.
I hope that then you are lying

under the ground like me your lives will appear
as good and joyful as mine.
no, dear, thtat's to much hope: you are not cared for
as I  have been.
and never have known the passionate undivided
fidelities that I knew.

your minds are perhaps to active, to many sided...
but to me were true.

you were never masters, but friends. I was your friend.
I loved you well' and was well loved. deep love endures
to the end and far past the end. if this is my end,
I am not lonely. I am not afraid. I am still yours.

DING   -  ****
                            " this is a  call to passengers traveling to Ithaka, by way of Kensal Green.
             Please have your passports and tickets ready, to be seen".

So did I pack well for this adventure I 'm on,
            do I really need the kichen sink  I thought I 'd take along.

All those clothes to impress, suits, shirts, ties all layed
           Where once all I carried , was a bucket and *****

Then my only foot-print was in soft gritty sand,
            As I licked melting coned creamyness, that dripped  on my hand

When every moment was filled with sun shine on skys powered blue
And even when grey, still the rainbow shone through

So leaving behind that tightly packed luggage, no room left inside,
But filled up with baggage, I'd aquired on the ride

Cluching  my shoulder bag is  all that I need, it seems
For tomorrow I 'll buy a new suit case and fill it, with new journyed dreams
DING --****  
                                   final call

Tea leaves

Saying goodbye is never painless.
But today closing up her old house.
Where I spent my childhood so long ago.
It is dragging me into the doldrums.
Each room full of her sweet life.
I find her books her souvenir box.
Locks of her children’s hair.
Christening medals.
I go into my boyhood bedroom
For the last time.
It still contains my magazines
and a book I read as a child.
The box in mom’s room is
full of her clothes.
Ready for the Goodwill.
Then I packed the last of the
old familiar dishes in the kichen.
Solid stoneware that carried
my sustenance for all my younger life.
In the back of the cupboard
Moms china cup and saucer
With English roses on it.
The one she used to  
drink her morning
tea in all of her life.
On the rim a single tea leaf remained.
That had once touched her lips.
That was when the grief hit me
Like never before.

Bye Mom
I love you
Jude

Sometimes
When the light softens
Into a glowing bloom of flowers.
The world just for a moment
Stops its crazy eternal spinning.
And I turn quietly in reverence.
And I watch you so quietly
you do not see me looking at you.
You are fixing the kids clothes
Or preparing a meal in the kichen
Or stuck in the middle
Of a hundred thankless task.
I try to remember the last time
You complained
but I cannot remember.
I try to think of when I
last told you I loved you
I cannot remember that either.
All of a sudden
I want to learn to write poetry
And say
You are the glue that holds
us all together my love.
You are the strength that
I need to get me
through adversity.
The safe harbor from which
I shelter from raging  storms.
You are the sun at the centre
of my small universe.
I know I have not said it lately.
But I love you so much honey.
I don’t think
this was really a poem.
But it should be.

I wish I could write you a love poem honey.

By Jude Kyrie

*Sometimes
When the light softens
Into a glowing bloom of flowers.
The world just for a moment
Stops its crazy eternal spinning.
And I turn quietly in reverence.
And I watch you so quietly
you do not see me looking at you.
You are fixing the kids clothes
or preparing a meal in the kichen
or stuck in the middle
of a hundred thankless task.
I try to remember the last time
that you complained
but I cannot remember.
I try to think of when I
last told you I loved you.
I cannot remember that either.
All of a sudden
I want to learn to write poetry
And say in poetic words.
You are the glue that holds
us all together my love.
You are the strength that
I need to get me
through adversity.
The safe harbor from which
I shelter from raging  storms.
You are the sun at the centre
of my small universe.
I know I have not said it lately.
But I love you so much honey.
I don’t think
this was really a love poem.
But it should be

Saying goodbye is never painless.
But today closing up her old house.
Where I spent my childhood so long ago.
It is dragging me into the doldrums.
Each room full of her sweet life.
I find her books her souvenir box.
Locks of her children’s hair.
Christening medals.
I go into my boyhood bedroom
For the last time.
It still contains my magazines
and a book I read as a child.
The box in mom’s room is
full of her clothes.
Ready for the Goodwill.
Then I packed the last of the
old familiar dishes in the kichen.
Solid stoneware that carried
my sustenance for all my younger life.
In the back of the cupboard
Moms china cup and saucer
With English roses on it.
The one she used to  
drink her morning
tea in all of her life.
On the rim a single tea leaf remained.
That had once touched her lips.
That was when the grief hit me
Like never before.

tea leaves

Saying goodbye is never painless.
But today closing up her old house.
Where I spent my childhood so long ago.
It is dragging me into the doldrums.
Each room full of her sweet life.
I find her books her souvenir box.
Locks of her children’s hair.
Christening medals.
I go into my boyhood bedroom
For the last time.
It still contains my magazines
and a book I read as a child.
The box in mom’s room is
full of her clothes.
Ready for the Goodwill.
Then I packed the last of the
old familiar dishes in the kichen.
Solid stoneware that carried
my sustenance for all my younger life.
In the back of the cupboard
Moms china cup and saucer
With English roses on it.
The one she used to  
drink her morning
tea in all of her life.
On the rim a single tea leaf remained.
That had once touched her lips.
That was when the grief hit me
Like never before.

Bye Mom
I love you
Jude

  Tea Leaves

Saying goodbye is never painless.
But today closing up her old house.
Where I spent my childhood so long ago.
It is dragging me into the doldrums.
Each room full of her sweet life.
I find her books her souvenir box.
Locks of her children’s hair.
Christening medals.
I go into my boyhood bedroom
For the last time.
It still contains my magazines
and a book I read as a child.
The box in mom’s room is
full of her clothes.
Ready for the Goodwill.
Then I packed the last of the
old familiar dishes in the kichen.
Solid stoneware that carried
my sustenance for all my younger life.
In the back of the cupboard
Moms china cup and saucer
With English roses on it.
The one she used to
drink her morning
tea in all of her life.
On the rim a single tea leaf remained.
That had once touched her lips.
That was when the grief hit me
Like never before.

Bye Mom
I love you
Jude

Ya.



(sonnet #MMMMMMMDCCXLVII)


Blue heavns with clouds as fiberfill gone stale
Jist floating lazly in morn's vague suspense,
Where coffee scents the air with half a sense
Of yonder whilst mine owly eyes in pale
Excuse take note of aught reply t'avail
As wont, sans words to roll oer fer intents
My tongue, and silence shifts as twere from hence
Without a voice as I leave that detail.
So later, from the kichen window fer
Mair than whatever, watch a wolf chase to
Effect some shapeless form, which as it were
Is caught just as his mouth decays in blue
Seas no, erm, Jolly Roger haunts in tour,
And wonder if that signifies aught too.

05Mar19a

If I were home..

I'd find comfort in the concrete
Etchings on the front porch
Spelled by a six-year-old
With her mom's apartment keys.

I'd open the front door
Like a gust of wind
On a summer day
Just blowing through

And see you sitting there
On the couch, always on the couch
With a red blanket, a box of Cheez It's
And the game

And I wouldn't stop, or think twice.
I'd just yell "I'M HOME!"
And make my way through

The dining room,
With goofy pictures
Of you and Kel
From the fair

To the kichen,
Where I'd open all the cabinets
To the smell of dust,
Empty aside from cosmic brownies.

I'd grab a pack, and come sit next to you.
You'd grab yours too,
And light one. And it would
Glow brighter than any candle
Ever could. And that smell would
Fill me up in ways I no longer
Can feel full. And maybe I'd notice -
That your fingers were yellow as the sun.
Or maybe I'd notice the teeth still in your
Smile. But probably not. Definitely not.
If I'm honest, I wouldn't notice a thing.
And what a gift that would be.