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Impulse May 25
You put on the most extravagant show to lure me into your trap,
all of your troops focused on tearing me down.
I feel your resentment towards me over the fact that you are no longer my priority.
You seem to hold this anger so close to your heart that it has rotted.
You build me up and pretend to care, the chemistry undeniable,
but it is nothing but a glamorous charade put on to trick me
and hurt me with a force unknown to me.
Is this love?
Is this hate?
or is this
Terry Collett Jun 2018
Noises around
and I am
blanket bathed.

I stare up
but see only darkness
my blind eyes bring.

The nurses talk
between themselves
as they wash me

My leg stumps
are unbandaged
and air gets to them.

They talk about
a new young doctor.

I think about nothing
but everything.

I sense them
wash me.

refreshes me.

I vaguely remember
the bombing
and then nothing.

I wish Clive was alive
and here with me.

Philip came yesterday
and talked to me.

He is Guy's friend
and works
in the Foreign Office
he said.

He wants
to take me out
for dinner.

I am half
a woman now.

The nurses dry me gently
then rebandage the stumps
and dress me
and wheel me out
into the sun.

I sit alone
with birdsong sounds

I am undone
and want to cry.
Terry Collett Mar 2018
Grace remembered an explosion
a flash of light then darkness.

The darkness never went. She
knew she was awake by the
sound of voices and people
passing by. She called out.

Some one came to her and
took her hand. It's all right
you are in hospital the soft
voice said. Hospital? Why am
I in Hospital? Your house
was hit in the bombing
the other day the voice said.

She stared where the voice
came from. Why can't I see?

The doctors are not sure
but it maybe just temporary
blindness the voice replied.

Grace felt down her side.
I can't feel my legs? The voice
hesitated. They had to be
amputated. A shock ran
through her head. She tried
to sit up but she couldn't.

Both legs? The voice was
soft in reply. Yes they were
a mess crushed and trapped.

She couldn't take it in. What
about my maid she was in
the house? She was killed
I am sorry to say the voice
replied. Grace stared into
blackness. The sounds
about her seemed far away.

We will do all we can for you.
I wish I'd died she murmured
then turning away she cried.
Mary-Eliz Apr 2017
Sound and fury
Sound of silence
Silence is golden
Silence is silver
Silver needs polished
Silver makes coins
Coins that jingle
Coins that spend
Spend your paycheck
Spend your time
Time passes slowly
Time passes fast
Fast and furious
Fast for Lent
Lent before Easter
Lent him my car
Car is broke down
Car won’t start
Start your engines
Start out right
Right makes might
Right hand man
Man nor beast
Man woman and child
Child of heaven
Child of earth
Earth rotates
Earth is round
Round ‘em up cowboy
Round the bend
Bend an ear
Bend a knee
Knee **** reaction
Knee length socks
Socks in a drawer
Socks in the wash
Wash your hands
Wash your face
Face your demons
Face the wall  
Wall of sorrows
Wall of rain
Rain is dreary
Rain from clouds
Clouds are forming
Clouds gray and black
Black tie optional
Black is my mood
For a poetry group I had everyone bring a poetry form on a slip of paper and we drew from them. I got Blitz which has some strange "rules" but it was fun.
Terry Collett Mar 2017
Life changing
the Blitz bomb
took my sight
and my legs.

Clive gone too
at Dunkirk.

I recall
our last kiss
as the train
left London.

I sit in
this darkness.

smells around
and voice sounds.

Morning Grace
a voice says.

My blind eyes
turn around
to the sound.

Who is it?
I enquire.

Doctor Clay
I have come
to see you
and see how
your stumps are
the voice says.

They're painful
I tell him.

Nurse we need
Grace to be
lying down.

Between them
they lift me
on the bed.

Fingers lift
my nightdress
and unwrap

Fresh air hits
the leg stumps.

His fingers
what is left
of my legs.

They're healing
very well
he tells me.

Soon we will
have someone
sort you out
for new legs
he informs.

I thank him.

He goes off
and the nurse
(small fingered)
now attends
to some fresh

As her fingers
touch my thighs
I recall
Clive touching
me there too
that last time
before he left
for the War.

I stare out
into dark
cold spaces
and a far
away shore.
Terry Collett Nov 2016
As I turn my blind eyes
to the sun(I feel its warmth),
I think of the Degas paintings
that Clive took me to see

at a London gallery: the
colours and the figures and
the shades of blues and pinks.
Now it is just a memory, and

as I sit here in the hospital
grounds in the wheelchair,
I have a sudden panic knowing
I will never see again, never

see a rainbow or see a blossom
or see the sunrise, and know
that Clive will never come again,
not since his death at Dunkirk,

and that last kiss, that last time
of making love, and I know I
shall never make love again,
and feel with my hands to where

my legs used to be, and feel
the bandaged stumps, and feel
them there, my fingers moving
over them. The sun is still warm

on my head, and when I turn my
face to the sun, I sense a kiss from
a while ago, and will I kiss again?
I ask myself and I want to know.

— The End —