"emmie" poems
Fragility is an electric blue
Shock in your system
From which you twist resistance
Gifted to hands open and begging
Consoling the green murkiness
Of people’s forced emptiness
Filling their scaffolding with
Temporary steadiness
Your abandonment shatters
Into heart shaped glass shards
He picks up even though they cut
And his blood brings no fear
Because your reality is malleable
And wounds are fixable
With scars becoming loopholes
Into worlds of distorted art
Branching out of lines protruding
Introducing your skin before your scars
I see the clearing of newly planted
Seeds of future possibility
In the words you gather
Passing by flowers scented with
All the aromas that haunt you
From your youth
Just to string a sentence
For one surrounded by the obtuse
Entirety of reigning bleakness
You are a beacon of what we
Dream to grow up to be
A star in the morning sky
You shine you shine you shine.
Feb 4, 2016
Feb 4, 2016 at 6:22 AM UTC
You weren't the poetic one, but I just read Kaddish
and thought of you;
of 1998 beach photo, Sussex somewhere - as I
remember you, perhaps a bit younger;
of sweet peroxide blonde, hiding brunette. I was
naive to the dye 'til I saw 'the Hepburn shot' - that 1950
something print, you in Rembrandt light,
or the black beehive wig in family portrait—
1970ish— dicky bows and cocktail dresses - Dad, aged
seven, in a shirt and trousers;
of youthful snapshots: Portobello Beach, Edinburgh
(4), with parents in Kent (8), your gang of girls some snowy
place (14), painting the house with Raymond in Croydon (20);
of latter digital images, 2012, more gaunt and wrinkled,
but ever-beautiful - seemingly ageless, as you wished;
of care and trust and overdone vegetables, thin gravy,
brussel sprout production lines - beautiful, mundane memories
at Cowfold breakfast bar or Langley Green kitchen tops;
of seaside trips to Shoreham, Portsmouth, Brighton, dogs
homes and holding my hand past the loud ones;
of picking roses from the garden for 'perfume' - sticky
hands, wet floors and beautiful smells;
of early morning rude awakenings, met only with cheer
and offers of tea and toast - I still have your butter tray
(hospitable even in death);
of my brother's wedding, taking time to jive and seem
alive whilst everyone else was dying inside, despite the fact
that it was you, and you only, who should care the most (and
thus, if you didn't, why should we have);
and of that very temperament, infamous tempers never
shown—at least to us—just pure, kind acceptance and
forgiveness.
You weren't the poetic one.
You were; the ninth child of a ****** and his wife
the girl with the Scottish accent
the wife of an engineer from Mitcham
the mother of three, the loser of one
the stern face of discipline
the BT telephone operator, the masseuse
the grandmother of three boys
the ageless face of beauty
the one I remember best
You told me you couldn't recall your siblings' names -
I've looked into it. Ada, Jack, Edie, Emmie, Mabel, Joyce,
Raymond, Terence.
Jul 11, 2018
Jul 11, 2018 at 11:19 AM UTC
A total stranger came to you,
with no history of knowing you.
As he looked over and gazed at you,
he showed great compassion and despair for you.
He picked you up with loving care,
and held you up with such warmth to share.
He walked away with your body in one arm,
stroking your head with care and such charm.
Walking away with you and so many years,
Leaving our household full of sorrows and tears.
You brought happiness to my daughter’s heart,
and sorrow when you had to part.
I know you would have licked her face while she cried,
thank you for always being there by her side.
We will always remember you,
with all the love you always knew.
Rest In Peace Emmie.
Feb 21, 2018
Feb 21, 2018 at 5:30 PM UTC
It's dark outside now, darling - tread carefully as you go.
That pallid crescent in the sky will soon be gone and so
make haste. Don't linger in the shadows.....
Jan 2019 © Emmie van Duren
Sep 18, 2019
Sep 18, 2019 at 7:49 AM UTC
odd ducks and space cadets
curry and whistler
sugary innards
emmie is now green
blackmailing her with secrets
dont accept things that are unacceptable
as sweet as pink eye
.
Apr 4, 2017
Apr 4, 2017 at 10:16 PM UTC