No one told me,
Death, was a she
She stopped by my house,
We had tea
She spread her black wings
In my sitting room,
She was beautiful
But smelled of doom,
I called her a *****,
She said to me,
"Sorry, my dear,
I'm necessity."

We two, ignorantly speaking
Of how fate and time brought us together
Whispering of words like eternity
And forever
Until the smell took over
Forcing us to see what fate really gave
We were merely two corpses thrown together
To save space in this mass grave

Growing up and knowing you give me sighs of bliss,
Didn't you say we're Patroclus and Achilles?
That  we are one soul abiding in two bodies,
Just for you, my best friend, I will make a promise.

You said that if Patroclus' fate's same with mine,
You'll try to make Achilles' fate same with thine
Our corpse lying next to each other would be sign,
Of a true, intimate friendship that is sublime.

Bringing those memories we made in Macedon,
The celebrations of battles we've always won,
I never lost, because I'm with you, Hephaestion,
My only defeat's when I lost you and you're gone.

I am just a general, and you are a king,
We have this love, but this love can do us nothing,
Love is not all that both of us will be needing,
You need an heir, we need wives we'll be marrying.

But even though now I have an heir and a wife,
It would be still you and me in the afterlife,
Even if it means I will be stabbed by a knife,
I'd love you, even this kind of love is not rife.

But even if we died and left this world early,
In separate deathbeds, we made love intimately,
Even if I made my last hurrah without thee,
You kept that promise, that nobody promised me.

My Grandmother's Hands

My Grandmother's hands told many tales
Of scrubbing steps and broken nails
Hand-washing clothes in enamel sink
Red football socks turned white towels pink

When not baking cakes at the old gas stove
Rag-rugs with old scraps of material she wove
Pantry shelves filled with powdered egg
Homemade rice pudding sprinkled with nutmeg

Sea-coal burning on an open coal fire
Bread on a toasting fork burning like a pyre
Grandma plumping up pillows from beneath granda’s head
Applying ointment to sores caused by being confined to bed

Hours spent at auctions bidding with her hand
Buying an incomplete bed wasn't what she planned
Back home in time for tea, crumpets and homemade strawberry jam,
I can still recall the smell of it, bubbling in the pan

Switching tv channels with a flick of her wrist
That’s how we did it back then, when remotes did not exist
Working hard all of her life, meeting everyone's demands

Every line and wrinkle told a story
On my Grandmother's hands

Broken wings don't serve much purpose,
except for in their beauty alone,
with constant reminders that linger in air,
of days an nights that have flown,

All gone so quickly to notice,
the value of passing minutes,
it's hard to see the forest ahead,
when you find you are within it,

Death for some a gift of life,
reborn to see it anew,
to finally know all the answers you had,
of times when you hadn't a clue,
why do song birds sing so sweet,
and why is the sky so blue?

Innocence is often lost,
to many back in youth,
except for the enlightened few,
who fear not in the truth,

When for you a peace would come,
to take away all the worry,
your feet will finally get a rest,
from living amid the hurry,

It seems I have a few years left,
or decades for all I know,
perhaps I must endure the pain,
for seeds I've left to sow,

I wish that I could see you again,
in all your earthly glory,
though I tell of you,
in the words that I cry,
of our poetic story,

Tears they hit a barren page,
they flood my very being,
releasing for me the poet within,
a gift for me in freeing,
opening up my eyes to the world,
in all that I am seeing,

I hope ahead for clearer skies,
an at night for a peaceful sleep,
I hope for no more fatal days,
of lost souls in the deep,

I am unafraid of death by now,
I've seen her up close before,
she didn't come wearing,
a cloak this time,
as she took you away from my door,

Death is there for everyone,
just as is our birth,
I hope one day that I will know,
what every second,
is worth.

Ma Cherie © 2017