#passedon
I haven’t forgot your presence
In my life
Your essence lives on
A blade that slices through my reality
I’ve realized how alone I am
Separated from the rest of the family
As there’s a famine I’ve examined
A lack of impact
Since we refused to pander
To their ideas that are fixed in the past
That’s why their fulfillment will never last
Mar 11
Mar 11, 2026 at 9:14 PM UTC
What do we do?
What do we do when all the magic is gone?
When all the magic is gone?
©2025Ellen Finn
Nov 27, 2025
Nov 27, 2025 at 9:39 PM UTC
This Holiday. The ice may be free,
But I am missing important
People dancing around my mind
In imaginary ice-skates,
Making this A Solemn Season. I used to watch
The couples ice-skating competitions with
My Gramma, and
My Pop-Pop,
Never knowing what ice-skating had,
Really meant to my
Grandparents,
Until recent years,
When it was revealed that
The Ice Capades was their first date.
I am watching Holiday Hallmark
Ice-skating movies, reminiscing
The ice-dancers,
And the festive
Christmas music playing in the background,
Has given me reverberating ice-tears.
©2025Ellen Finn
Nov 27, 2025
Nov 27, 2025 at 9:35 PM UTC
“…The Hess Truck’s here.”
“…You can count on me…”
“The Hess Truck’s back and its better than ever!”
(“If Only In My Dreams”)
“For Christmas this year…”
(“If Only In My Dreams”)
“Lifting spirits this year…”
(“If Only In My Dreams”)
(“If Only In My Dreams”)
(“If Only In My Dreams”)
(“If Only In My Dreams”)
©2025Ellen Finn
Nov 26, 2025
Nov 26, 2025 at 8:17 PM UTC
I gave her a five-leaf clover,
And, then, she was diagnosed with cancer.
I, then, gave her a four-leaf clover,
After, to “make it all better”.
Who would’ve known that I’d jinxed her?
©2025Ellen Finn
Nov 22, 2025
Nov 22, 2025 at 4:24 PM UTC
I would
Call it a pendant;
She would call
It her “medal”.
[“Oh—my medal?”]
I inherited a Mother Mary
Pendant-medal;
Her most prized possession;
Other than her wedding ring and band.
This medal, here, was “Blessed by The Pope”,
When she was a young age. She never took it off,
But when she took a shower.
…Or, when she went for a scan [toward the end]
Of some-sort…
This medal
Has been saved
By, nearly, every aunt.
[Once, it was my fault that it was almost lost.
I had got the necklace tangled in
A folded pillowcase at a hospital.
Thank God that it was found.
I, almost, do not deserve keeping track
Of such a special piece of her history.
Sometimes, I feel so unworthy.]
The aunts would wear her medal
When she went for scans. Keeping her medal
Close to their hearts, as I will do, since, it has been
Passed on “From my neck to hers”, she’d said.
And I saw her, Peaceful;
Resting.
It went to me, but I plea
That it does not get misplaced
By me.
©2025Ellen Finn
Nov 22, 2025
Nov 22, 2025 at 2:17 PM UTC
But a whisp of poetry—
A thought; an after-thought.
A Beautiful Stanza;
Standing all on its own.
But she was “The Now”;
In a KNOWING sense.
She brought me poetry and flowers;
White peonies, nonetheless.
And I have a plant; a [ticket] stub;
A root of what was.
©2025Ellen Finn
Nov 21, 2025
Nov 21, 2025 at 4:11 PM UTC
In a dream,
My Gramma's cancerous lump,
Shot out of her
When she went to the bathroom. Then we
(As a collective family) were concerned,
Because she had decided
That she had wanted the surgery. In the dream,
To take out the rest of the cancerous tumors,
Of which, had spread. ...To her larynx, and other places,
Like her lungs,
But small, tiny, little demons
Were too tiny to get with the surgery.
She was operated on, and the surgeons had tried to get it,
All at once. But, then, in the dream,
She died on the table.
Leaving us
To grieve. Again.
©2025Ellen Finn
Nov 20, 2025
Nov 20, 2025 at 7:35 PM UTC
I could not find what I was looking for; the confectionary
Sugar shaker that My Gramma said that I could have
When she passed on. The story goes:
My Gramma had
Got hers as a wedding gift.
My Nana had the same, exact
Sugar shaker. My Gramma had “promised herself”
That the top would not get dented,
Like Nana’s. But, alas,
The sugar shaker did get dented at the top.
And my Gramma had verbally said that I could have it,
After she had passed on, then, when I had asked, at the age of twelve.
It would have been, technically,
Three generations of a sugar shaker being passed on,
But, alas, it will be none.
©2025Ellen Finn
Nov 21, 2025
Nov 21, 2025 at 3:40 PM UTC
You see the funny thing about our world
is not that we hate each other
it's that we have been taught to despise someone
who doesn't believe the same as we do.
Dec 25, 2017
Dec 25, 2017 at 1:41 PM UTC