A few months I haven't called him

At the beck and call at any hour
And the shortest notice
A dial to him has saved many an emergency

Last night a broken female voice
On the other side of the wire
Mumbled he died on May 13

Left her with three daughters
At forty at short notice

The plumber is dead

Now who would clear
My choked wash basin

The plumber is dead
And I've no other number to call

I couldn't see her face
Gauge the faceless sorrow
At the other side of the wire

The plumber is dead

I must find another
And then rejoice
Forgetting the widow's choked voice

Loneliness is now upon his throat

I know it for sure
What ails him hasn't a cure
He's shrinking like a sinking boat.

On the perch a plumed pain
He's lost without a care
Tells the vacant stare
Dooming into a never regain.

Death is an easy height to scale
When life remains to grieve
Without any incentive
As love retires to a dark well.

He's fading in the lost glory
And I know it for sure
What's killing him has no cure

My budgie called Story.

Much adored is the dead poet

Within the glass case
Away from dirt
Amongst the books pressed
Rests his heart

Such was the silence he dreamed
When words streamed
Like riverine flow
In all might arose
Seeking the order in chaos

Orderly bound now his name
In peace standing behind wooden frame
Yet with the ceaseless commotion of wait...

Much adored rests the dead poet.

The monsoon cloud swooped low
to **** her
and the night seemed to wear
the darkest cloak

Three miles down south
she had gone to the weekly haat
for half a litre of earth oil
thru mud as thick as her desire
for a small glow in her thatched hut

When she reached the stream
she paused on the brink
and then like an added note
to the music of rain
her swan little frame
glided to the other bank

The wind was shivering
but she was warm in the dream of
one small light in her home
to **** the demon of dark

My love, you are an agony
but for you
I would have been on the road
made the world my family

The sun and the moon you robbed
stars you made your countless eyes
but for you
I would have flown where eagles rise
made my home in the sky

My love, you are an agony
but for you
I would have gone down the flow
a speck of moonlight
in the sparkling shadows of night
hanging on a leaf like poetry!

Intent on shells
she's a girl
where screech the gulls.

Age she kills
makes sandhills
breaks the walls.