"glowered" poems
I turned lesser men to stone, snakes nipping idly at my dress:
I am monster, living incarceration of a profane affair.
I turned sacristy into brothel, my beauty was perverted to despair.
I am monster, grotesque face topped by a hissing nest.
As you approached, and I felt a grim shiver in my chest;
I glowered my petrifying glare,
But you were given hiding-cape', sword, winged sandals to wear,
And mirrored shield my powers to arrest.
My mask of potent shame was made:
Lips blood red and eyes of smoldering coal,
Around my face writhing serpents twist and roll.
I saw my eyes in your hand, I wailed a last serenade.
Gasping in the instant before – everything went stone cold.
I am weapon, crafting you a garden of entombed souls.
1Hades’ cap of invisibility
May 4, 2010
May 4, 2010 at 5:01 PM UTC
The dead-bolts on the interior doors
Against the nephews most securely locked
(One is destructive; the other explores)
Ignored by their mother (usually crocked)
The brother-in-law babbles about his bowels
And surgeries over the festive spread
Ignoring his wife’s disapproving scowls
Detailing each grim therapy and med
The puppies are safely penned inside
Because of an incident with a crowbar
And a nephew who kicked and screamed and cried -
He wasn’t allowed to **** the dogs or bash the car
His mother comforted him in his tears
And glowered at me for telling him no
And comforted herself with a few more beers
Her special child is sensitive, you know
The brother-in-law’s colonoscopy
With lurid adjectives of graphic doom
Comes with the pie and more iced tea
His miseries circulate around the room
Then from the living room an expensive crash
“Not me!” “Not me!” More screams and denials and cries
An old family vase – it’s now just trash
“You shouldn’t have glass around,” their mother sighs
The brother-in-law offers to show his scars
He finds his shirt buttons, makes his move
We other men escape outside for cigars
Cigars!? The women uniformly disapprove
One nephew leaps upon a garden seat
And jumps and yells until it falls apart
Their mother says her boy is cute and sweet
“Are you all right, my dear little heart?”
The brother-in-law holds his tummy and groans
And tells us all about his flatulence
And just which foods lead to what moans
(Perhaps he should practice some abstinence)
The women come outside to cough and choke
With practiced puritan disapproval and sneers
About the satanic scent of tobacco smoke
The world’s best mother chugs a few more beers
The brother-in-law explains why he can’t drink
It’s about his digestion (be surprised)
And we shouldn’t smoke; if only we’d think
And we (got a match?) are properly chastised
Then at the end of this mandatory day
Of mandatory Hallmark merriment
All of them finally go the (space) away
And how did the mailbox get broken and bent?
But the brother-in-law pauses at the garden gate
“Say, did I tell you about my new pills…?”
And so dear solitude again must wait
While darkness slowly falls upon the hills
Nov 21, 2018
Nov 21, 2018 at 4:51 PM UTC
On that bright day his mind was unusually calm
He stopped by the beggar to offer him some alms
Feeling at peace with himself without a trace of qualm
He took a deep breath, with life he was coming to term.
Goodness he pondered was quite an achievable feat
A small spark that made him offer the old man a seat
Each familiar face he smiled at such easy was to greet
Inside him he grew healthier being good was great benefit.
Why men suffer jealousy fight for one-upmanship
Instead of trading for goodness most precious human keep
Just not burn to earn his food comfort and restful sleep
But live in shining goodness make life a rewarding trip.
Being good with one’s own kind he felt wouldn’t do
Other lives around him must kindly be treated too
A crumb of bread for the street dog on its head a little pat
Pints of milk and a little care for the weak and ailing cat.
As he walked the road thoughts like these lighted up his face
He found waiting on wayside many things begging goodness
Determined he would reach them all do them a little good
He sprinted along in a sprightly gait his mind in deep brood.
Back home when she opened the door he gave her a broad smile
She glowered a little askance for he hadn’t done it a while
*What brings you this sheepish smile what for the elation?
Don’t even think you can ever make on me a good impression!*
Dec 6, 2013
Dec 6, 2013 at 2:45 AM UTC
I dipped my extraordinary toe into the cool waters.
It was colder than I had expected it to be.
And as I glowered at myself
in a mirror of sorts,
I discovered I wasn’t alone.
Deceptively perfect
and perfectly sculpted.
A body of total glory.
A glistening aura,
with freshly chopped wave.
A glistening fauna,
amongst all the flora.
Irreverently so,
she fit no humanly mold.
A creature to truly behold.
I behold the true embodiment
of the truth and the good.
And I certainly remember
the tales of the crude.
*Tatter becomingly of thy soul.
Please don’t develop an interlude.
Ive been laying while dying
underneath old coal.
Please woman.
Call my name.*
Dec 1, 2013
Dec 1, 2013 at 7:00 AM UTC
.
"That there Is'belle's house stinks wunderful turr'ble,"croaked Emma Beiler at their quilting bee.
"Jah...vell," sighed Rosanna Yoder. "All them there katzes , ain't so?"
Accordingly the two ladies set out to pay Travis and Isabella Salter a visit, only to be politely told that they had were in the process of taking some cats to a local shelter.
Two weeks passed and to the Amish folks' disgust the odour had merely intensified.
"Them there Englisch are chust liars!" Potato Sam spat the words out along with a *** of chewing tobacco.
" Ach, vell," sighed his wife Rosanna, unaware of her heavily sweating underarms. The Ordnung strictly forbade deodorant as well as perfume. "Reckon I best mosey over and see fur myself."
Travis opened the door with a tired sigh.
'Chust thought I'de ask vhat fur stinks yer house up so vonderful tur'ble...Izzy tells us youse gettin' rid of them but-"
A puzzled look crossed Travis weary face as he glanced toward the kitchen. Irritation gripped him, not lessened as Rosanna glowered at Tabby washing her face on the couch. Then a waft of a familiar scent, overpowering, drifted toward him from the kitchen. Brussel sprouts enhanced by -.
With all the stress, Isabelle was increasing her calming herbs, mixing the powders.... Valerian?
"Good evening, Mrs. Yoder." He motioned her toward the door, locking it firmly behind her. For a long time after she was gone he stood staring out the window.
Jun 12, 2013
Jun 12, 2013 at 1:39 AM UTC
ESCAPING INTO THE MUSIC
"Time is what
we are given
in order to search
for happiness."
The window contained
the world
that was coming apart
as we spoke.
It held the storm
in place
as if we looked in on
another dimension.
Heaven glowered and
even the sky cowered.
Lightning tore the day apart
as if it were mere paper.
"The cancer has advised me
to pack up what time's left
collect whatever memories
I want to take with me."
The world in the window
was going over the top
pulling out all the stops
with cheap theatrical effects.
Enough to make one laugh
at the unreality of Reality.
The laughter made her
weaker.
She withdrew
inside herself
to where I could
neither know or follow her.
I put on the record
and she escapes into the music.
Aug 17, 2018
Aug 17, 2018 at 3:52 AM UTC
Oh really? interrogated her cunning eyes, Speak you the truth?
Doubt what you will, mine glowered in return, the ice melting to fragmented liquid between my fingers. But truth and desire are the same thing, no?
Oct 7, 2016
Oct 7, 2016 at 12:02 PM UTC
☃ ∴ ☼
Al Bandura, Ph.D,
Drove to town so he could see
if society embraced
guided life-change (science-based).
As he floored it toward the town,
he struck an inefficient clown.
Doctor A. Bandura glowered:
“You’re not funny, nor empowered –
get self-aware”. Then, talking faster,
he offered attainable steps to mastery.
“You don’t seem too self-efficacious,”
Albert added, now loquacious.
Doctor Al set new objectives:
auto-efficient self-directives;
made that dead clown self-aware,
then auto-directed right out of there.
Sep 17, 2015
Sep 17, 2015 at 8:03 PM UTC
She explained, as she passed him the coffee,
“I just keep dreaming that I am a couch”
His eyebrows lifted,
a smirk played on his lips.
Asked her if it was the couch they were sat on now,
Crushed green velvet and
endearingly hideous.
She glowered, said
She wished he’d take her seriously.
“But your body writhes in curious convulsions,
You fill the cottage with ear piercing screams-
Can it be that bad, being a couch?”
She declared that he would not understand,
Could not see what was worse
than his dreams of combat;
gunshot night terrors
she’d never hear.
He insisted, “explain”. So she told
of the aching void beyond her couch-body.
How paralysed, she would flail vainly
Cushions muffling her hungry screams
of longing for oceanic adventures.
He watched the sun through the sway of the trees,
form a moving lattice upon her shoulders,
Mused of his cravings for their living room
from his bunk at sea.
She watched him, watching her,
and knew,
He’d never understand her couch-dreams.
They sat in silence, holding their coffee,
And accepted their anharmonic lives.
Jul 13, 2011
Jul 13, 2011 at 4:44 PM UTC
Above the black wood
A moonless, deep cobalt, vault
Filled with stellar sparks
Glowered, mute and majestic
Below, coyotes howled and yipped
Apr 16, 2015
Apr 16, 2015 at 1:01 AM UTC
She was thick, erubescent.
Advised not to give her my eyes, I stared:
she was haloed by the diaphanous seat
which held me when she shifted.
Flourishing fiercely, defiant,
she glowered, staining porcelain
like pink tipped damasks; a Fauvist impression.
I believe if she’d had a tongue
she would have screamed,
scolded me for my selfishness-
shrieking as the sorceress’ slain offspring.
My heart cringing, heavy lids like two tomb doors
shielding me like from her quiet contention,
I summoned the scrubs to put her out.
Jun 23, 2018
Jun 23, 2018 at 9:51 AM UTC
I remember the day you Murdered the Yucca plant.
How you glowered over the sharp shredded remains of leaves and center stalk, which had once succeeded such tremendously large blossoms of which I was so fond of as a child.
Such determination in your hazel brown eyes.
I remember the Fable of the Avocado Sprout and the Squirrel.
The Parable of the Blonde Boy and the Crabapple Tree.
The Romance of the Mosquito and the Fly.
And best of all.
The Demise of the Kodiak and the Lioness.
Oct 15, 2014
Oct 15, 2014 at 9:08 PM UTC
Auntie and I
went to her friend
Milly's place
(a flat on the other side
of the parade ground)
she knocked at the door
and we waited
after a little while
the door opened
and Auntie's friend's
daughter Elsie stood there
staring at us
is your mum at home?
Auntie said
Elsie glowered at me
with her small eyes
I'll ask her
the girl said
and went back
into the flat
there was a murmuring
of voices from inside
then Milly appeared
o sorry about that
I was in the loo
Milly said
come on in
so we went in
the flat smelt
of past dinners
and hanging washing
we followed her
into the sitting room
and she said to sit down
so we did
Elsie her 5 year old daughter
stood by her doll's pram
staring at us
want some tea
and a bit of cake?
Milly said
that'd be nice
Auntie said
what about you Benny ?
Milly said
can I have a glass
of water please?
she nodded
and went off
into the kitchen
and Auntie said
you go play with Elsie
let me and Milly
have a chat
I looked at Elsie
who was pushing
the doll's pram
around the room
looking at me darkly
ok
I said
Milly brought me
a glass of water
and a piece of fruit cake
and I said thank you
and then she brought a tray
with cups and pieces of cake
and sat with Auntie
and began to talk
go play with Elsie
Auntie said
I nodded and went over
to where Elsie
was rocking her doll
against her chest
I've come to play
I said
she looked at me
boys don't play with doll's
she said coldly
let Benny play
her mother said
don't want him
playing with my doll
Elsie said
you'll let him play
or I'll tan your backside
Milly said
Elsie stood looking
at her mother
then at me
you have to be the dad
she said
as if chewing
a piece of tough meat
I nodded and walked
with her to the pram
I didn't want to be the dad
or play with the doll
as I was a 4 year old boy
but it was better
than sitting listening
to Auntie and Milly talk
Elsie moodily pushed
her pram into the passageway
and I followed glumly
we're going shopping
she said
I push the pram
dads don't push prams
so I walked beside her
wisely silent
smelling the carbolic scent
she was wearing
and watching
her moody glare
wishing I was elsewhere
than there.
Feb 1, 2016
Feb 1, 2016 at 3:16 AM UTC
I.
when she saw the hazy picture on the screen,
dark grays, some blacks, a little white,
she didn't understand until the soft, chubby brown finger
pointed at a speck, a freckle.
how can I?
the soft worn leather seat whimpered
when the expanse of body gripping fabric
clung to the body they housed, and
the nurse reached for the girl's small sweaty hand.
they closed their eyes and prayed.
the adjacent room was a museum of curiously tiny things.
she slowly considered each item in her sojourn,
finally selecting delicate knit slippers, for little feet.
in this tired brick building reality seemed less real.
II.
back home, her mother threw a chair
when Mavel pointed at her stomach and smiled shyly.
when she presented the shoes with trembling hands,
hoping this small measure would appease the anger,
always worst at first--maternal snakebite,
mother glowered and showed her ****** fangs.
III.
the lights drew her, like fireflies twinkling moment to moment,
the icicle bulbs flashing as the wind blew strands wildly
on dark night trees, rooted firmly in familiar soil.
cotton candy clouds surrounded her small thin lips;
the lingering bits crystallized on a pale pointed chin.
as she discarded the unwanted cardboard stem,
its use immediately forgotten in a pile of related *******
she saw him.
she saw him. and she ran. frayed tongues flapping on her sneakers.
breathless, heart pumping, he came into focus.
by the house of mirrors. reaching for her hand--
not my hand. her hand?
her fingers slipped from her mouth and found their home,
on her warm belly,
suddenly quiet.
blood trailing down her thighs,
a droplet stroking a pure white shoe:
welcomed refuse.
Oct 10, 2014
Oct 10, 2014 at 7:06 PM UTC
strike sparks off the hill
tumble down charged, fall
an electric river.
Captured photon tracks
dot glass, world atom
accelerator.
Lost particles,
paper thin blanketed
homeless huddle
in doorways.
Tiny explosions
of heaven's tears
across the nailed lake.
Day ends as fishermen
fold up their green chairs
by a splashed evening water
glowered, puddled.
LURED BY RAIN AND SHADOW
navigate by rain,
gobbets in motion,
their rhythmic fall and beat,
every drop a note,
on pavement,
tarmac, wood,
tile, hollow metal,
close your eyes,
listen to the music,
varied semitones,
blind, you navigate
by the landscape
described by percussion.
Can you hear her contours,
tell the leather, lace
and cloth she wears
by arrangement of sound
in the downpour?
A time when you don't
want the rain to stop
until you can inhale
her sweet fragrance.
And open your eyes.
shadow breathes
see how your shadow moves
across the arc of her arm
your shadow breathes to kiss
away the cold up to her neck
across the cool leather couch
she lounges on to reveal more
of her thighs than is sane
for the blood pump inside you
and your lips press into her neck
and the rise of her ******* through
her little black dress, and thighs
that fall open as you kiss an ear.
A ROSARY
of raindroplets down the window glass.
Contemplate the mystery within
each of these splattered dribbles.
Each holds grains, dried sea salt, dust or smoke ascended skywards from water
or land into swirling eddies of air,
each holds dead cells sloughed,
perhaps by lovers fingers, or
by beasts slouching to Bethlehem,
each holds a prayer for life,
a hymn to its origins, a curse
of flood, a blessing of light.
Apr 29, 2016
Apr 29, 2016 at 8:26 AM UTC
After a long day of realizing she discovered that her arms had grown into a car.
The car drove about as fast as her legs could carry it and stopped only when she slept. It cornered like a cat and burned oil like a lemon. It got her where she needed to go only as long as she realized it could. It went nowhere fast and everywhere slow before the old steam engine ran out of coal. Her brother said it was a foolish dream to still have at 16 but she just ran him over. Day after day her arms grew tired of taking the abuse of holding her up. It took quite a while until she realized could call a better one up. So she smiled at the weeds until they turned roses and grinned at the bees till they drowned in honey and let her drink up the extra with a straw. She frowned at the bullies outside her house until lightning smoothed them into splatters of ash. She thought a bit more of how doing her chores really **** ****** what? Her mother would say? She just glowered at said Daddy more then you! And knew it to be true when she saw chores come to the door long after mom had gone for "Arron's". It took her a while to get back in her car and finally see her brother still stained the windshield with grow up. He was nine. Was being the term. I think that's what he would answer but no matter how big I smile at cancer or still whisks him away whispering he's mine Bea. Maybe if I could grow my chest into roses when boys look down at them for who knows what reason I can say smell away, and take one if you please. It won't be that hard to go all bizarre when I finally realized my arms were the doors to my cars.
May 11, 2016
May 11, 2016 at 10:30 PM UTC
Saturday night's
rain down
the glass
reminds me of
when the sky
tipped
& beaded
on my face
in the spare
maple as spring
came on.
I laughed
& shook the shine
from my hair
as my fingers
gestured water
into the hillside
streeted
with roots.
I found the road
as the dusk
whistled
& followed it
back to the slope
where headlights
kicked against
the first pierce
of stars.
The rain sat
on the ruddy brick
& glowered.
I sailed
over lawns
black with dousing
& listened
to the drop
and lilt.
Mar 9, 2019
Mar 9, 2019 at 11:33 PM UTC
I woke one early morning
To find the flowers in the garden bed
Singing a gloomy song.
I bowed my head with theirs
And I sang my own words.
'Come back to me
Daisy who used to smile
Poppy who joyfully beamed
Rose who trusted me.'
They all sang back to me
'Weeder who used to protect
Child who used to admire
Water who used to sustain
Why have you left us?'
Their faces started to show
Girl with pale eyes and skin
Boy with sunken thighs and limbs
One with jagged wounds, and thin.
The girl shook as she looked
The boy barely stood
One cowered under their hood.
I smiled as best I could.
But they didn't smile back
All frowned and glowered
Or wept, or sulked
Like ice cold showers.
I touched the girl's face
It started to crumble
The boy screamed,
One fainted.
I backed away slowly
As they started fading
The sky darkened, and
Dawn indeed began...breaking.
17th February 2018
Mar 11, 2018
Mar 11, 2018 at 12:14 AM UTC
I was there when
He first saw fragments of dust
In the light of dawn and
Laughed loud in wonder
When he pointed to the stars
With questions in his eyes
I was there and
I provided the answers
As he marched towards
That fallen tree, there
My footprints were engraved
In dirt before his own
In the sounds he touched and
In the smells he savored
I was there and I promised
To always remain
When he discovered a remote heart,
Attached it to his own and
Built a wall of bricks above—
I was not there
In the darkness he glowered
At seeing nothing, cried
And I heard him ponder why
I no longer remained
Jun 13, 2014
Jun 13, 2014 at 5:00 AM UTC
The first time that I noticed them
I passed them on the stair,
She wore an amulet love-charm then
He was much too old for her.
I should have hurried and looked away
But I caught her smouldering eye,
And my heart had leapt within my breast
To this day, I wonder why?
Her hair, a tangle of lovers knots,
Her lips, a definite pout,
Her figure light and her legs were white
And I saw her look about.
She peeked behind as she passed me by
And I caught her knowing look,
The moment passed with the slightest sigh
I was firmly on her hook.
I didn’t go out of my way for her,
She seemed so firmly fixed,
The man beside her glowered at me
And gripped her by the wrist,
I saw him leading her often then
As our paths began to cross,
And smiled at her as she came my way
But her eyes looked vague, and lost.
The man came up and he gripped my arm,
‘You’d better leave her be.
Don’t think to fall for her fateful charm,
Giselle belongs to me!’
He pushed me then, and he walked away
And he gripped her arm so tight,
He stopped the blood where his fingers lay
And her hand went stark and white.
I asked a friend who had known her once,
He said, ‘Just keep away.
She labours under a curse, that one,
She only brings dismay.
You see the man who escorts her now
And you think he’s far too old,
A year ago he was twenty-two
But he aged once in her hold.’
I didn’t think it was possible
But he aged as time went on,
His hair and his beard went pale and grey
And his features, pale and wan,
Though she gained colour in both her cheeks
And her eyes would sparkle blue,
While he would stumble, but still cling on
Till she said, ‘I’m looking at you!’
As soon as she uttered those fateful words
His hand released its grip,
And she walked on, not looking back
As if on a different trip.
She came to face me and say the words
That had snared good men before,
But I turned into my passageway
Grey faced, and I locked the door.
David Lewis Paget
Feb 20, 2015
Feb 20, 2015 at 6:09 AM UTC
My wife woke up the other morning
and positively glowered at me
I knew that look was some kind of warning
But wondered what on earth it could be?
It was quite obvious she was not happy
Though I had absolutely no idea why
I tried to talk to her but she was so snappy
Looked at me like she wished I would die.
I thought it might be about my snoring
Which I knew was very bad of late
though that normally had her shouting and roaring
and not in this silent but deadly state
Was it my restless legs syndrome again?
had my kicking kept her up all night?
Or had I hogged all the duvet yet again?
I knew something was not quite right
It was like waiting for a bomb to explode
the silence was truly agonising
my self confidence began to erode
had I done something without realising?
I knew I was definitely in mortal danger
That I needed to tread very carefully
She looked at me like I was some kind of stranger
Actually, more like I was her worst enemy!
I had no option but to push a bit harder
Thoughts of personal safety I left behind
I had to find out what was wrong with her
Before I went completely out of my mind
And then like a veritable tsunami
The whole truth it just flooded out
I knew then why she saw me as the enemy,
Understood what the strop was about!
She accused me of having an affair
With none other than her best friend
She was convinced that I just did not care,
Thought our marriage had come to an end
She did not believe I could be so cold
That I would throw away all that we had
She was convinced and would not be told
It nearly killed me to see her hurting so bad
I tried to convince her that I loved her
That nothing was going on honestly
That I could never have an affair for,
I knew she was the only woman for me
It was hard to convince her it was not true
But she realised in the end it seems
That having an affair is not something I’d do
The whole affair only happened in her dreams!
The whole thing was an absolute nightmare
It was incredibly frightening
One thing we learned from the whole affair
Is that dreams can be a funny thing!
Like alarm bells sounding a warning,
We both saw it as a wake up call
Now we have a reality check every morning
Before doing anything else at all!
Jul 3, 2015
Jul 3, 2015 at 4:05 AM UTC
Tell me what you see, said the old man,
But it was white, all white, and
What could I possible make out in the storm ?
Yet he insisted, standing behind the rock to my side,
Glowering at me with his steady eyes.
And I in turn glowered, at the
Vast white nothingness,
Which seemed a single mass;
Something there was that seemed to flow
Within it, under it.
Yes, the nothingness did move, and so
On I stared.
Mar 23, 2014
Mar 23, 2014 at 7:11 PM UTC
BETWEEN THE WORDS
The leg that had fallen
asleep: suddenly awoke
attacked him with pins...with needles.
"Ow!" "oW!" & "OW!"
he shouted at himself
shaking a leg
He felt like a bad
Xerox copy of
his self.
The typewriter glowered at him.
He glared right back.
"Do your worst!" it smirked.
"...the men who moil for gold..."
the old Service line resurfaced
"Moil...ha ha...how true!"
His measly one-finger-typing
trying to keep up with
his mind...fall...ing..be...hind.
The typewriter trying to
find his train of thought
the clickety clack of words.
Man morphing into machine.
Both one & the same.
Only the next word...counts.
Thinking & not thinking.
The mind in free fall.
The words pumped up.
Loving the return of carriage
the next line springing into
being.
"Coraggio!. . .coraggio!"
His mind admonishes him.
"Andiamo!" he exhorts his words.
On a roll now.
One part of him( writing ).
The other singing THE RUNAWAY TRAIN.
"And she blew!
And she blew...blew...blew....blew...blew!
Ooooohhhh....oooooohhh!"
Uh hu!
The ribbon of his mind
wearing thin.
Words now in red.
& now.
In nothing.
The words appearing
like their own ghosts.
A mere impression.
"Don't leave me this way!"
his mind sings to them.
" I don't understand how I'm at your command..."
The "e" key
raising its angry littl fist.
Stu...stu...UCK A gain.
Typewriter: quiet now.
Weeds of silence
growing up
between the words.
Mar 20, 2017
Mar 20, 2017 at 5:09 AM UTC
I just got home in the past half hour
From a great weekend at the lake,
I can’t remember how I got home,
I think I’m about to flake.
The driveway’s empty, I lost the car,
The house, as quiet as a tomb,
And where the wife and the kiddies are?
Must be in another room.
The air round here had been highly charged
For weeks, till we got away,
So I suggested a trip from home
If only just for a day.
I thought we could sort our problems out
Just for our marriage’s sake,
I thought that we might find love again
Together, up at the lake.
The kids took buckets and floaties too,
They said that it would be fun,
And Jen took some of her own home brew,
She’s legless, after just one.
We packed them all in the four wheel drive
And headed up for the shack,
It’s on a reach that they call the beach,
It took an hour to unpack.
But Jen got drunk, as she always does
And spoiled the night of the first,
Her mood was black, while on the attack,
I said our marriage was cursed.
I saw no love in her eyes that night,
And even her smile was forced,
So stone cold sober the second day
She said, ‘I want a divorce.’
I thought that she might get over it,
I said, ‘We’re here to have fun.
Let’s call a truce for the kids at least,
Be happy, for everyone.’
She said she would, but she wouldn’t talk,
Just glowered, down at the beach,
While I and the kids would take a walk,
Have fun in the sun, at least.
Now in the drive, I can see a car,
A man has come to the door,
He says, ‘We pulled out your four wheel drive,
What did you do it for?’
I look bemused as he says to me,
‘Your children, for heaven’s sake!’
My heart stops for an infinity,
‘You drowned them all in the lake.’
David Lewis Paget
Aug 19, 2017
Aug 19, 2017 at 11:44 AM UTC