JUST LIKE JOHN'S

The musicians play

A Lennon song.

John is gone,

Now long gone

For peace and love

Were not to be

His final song.

None know

Their final path,

Around which corner

There lurks death.

However they map

Their way

Always someone other

Has the final say.

But even after they

Have gone

They can leave

One last laugh,

One final song,

Still have their say,

Stay on and on,

Music lingering on the lips,

Just like John's.

THIS TRAIN

This train

Is leaving

Station number one.

This is

Only the first

Station on the line.

There are

Many more

Stations to explore.

This is only

This time;

Death here

Is not the last track,

A first, slow way

Forward with no way back.

Time is only

The distance between

Sleepers

Measured in turns

Of wheels.

This train, now

At station number one,

Is, simply, moving on.

FLOWERS AT THE GATE

In the classroom,

See, she sits alone

After all the other children

Have gone home.

Though she cannot see

Through tears

Anymore,

Her classmates

Not see her,

She is not on her own,

Witness the flowers

At the gate

Where hushed groups

For her final passing.

They will remember

This moment for life

When grief was bright

In the flowers

On a rainy day

And speak her name

Again, again, again.

WALKING OUT THE DOOR

Couldn't use his body

Anymore,

So, he

Walked out the door,

His decison,

His choice,

The last whisper

From his voice,

Hoarse in the night,

Bright as the raven's

Tumbling in the

Mountain winds.

Free in flight,

His soul flew

On his last breath

For a life away,

Real living,

From an existence

That was death.

IN THE MORNING OF MY DREAMS

In the morning of my dreams

I shall remember, always,

The tilt of your head,

The smile in your eyes,

Without tears,

Your form,

Your warmth,

Your voice.

I shall not forget

In the mourning of my dreams.

I HEARD HIM SING

I heard him softly sing,

Again and again,

As he sat alone

But never alone,

Surrounded, corralled,

"Take me home."

Not of West Virginia

Were his dreams,

Not of rolling plains

Or mountain ranges,

Yet, on his lips

That barely spoke the words,

I heard,

Distinctly,

"Take me home."

GENTLE TOUCH

The touch of your hand,

I shall remember,

Forever more;

The brush of your lips,

Soft on my cheek,

As you said, "Goodbye."

I shall not forget

Always, your tenderness,

Even in pain,

I shall remember,

Never forget

Your gentle touch.

LADY IN BLACK

The lady in black

Was by his bedside

For many a night

Before he had the courage

To ask her to dance.

He saw her not in black

But white,

An angel of mercy

In the dark hours,

A bright relief

And when, at last,

The pain was gone

He took her arm

And crossed the floor,

Gliding as never before

And saw her home

And stayed that night,

No more to return

When day was light.

HER LOVE

It had a grip on her

That controlled her life,

Her eyes, her smile,

Her voice, her touch,

No little was too much,

It was her principle

Co-ordinate

In life

And in the end

It led her home,

Safe, without a fuss.

She was and is,

And always will be,

A part of us,

Even though apart

From us,

Bound from beyond

By her lasting,

Ever lasting,

Stainless, no-rust

That will not blow away

With the dust,

Her love.

YOUNG OLD GIRL

Jiving with a zimmer frame

May sound bizarre

But Molly was not

Your normal nonagenarian

Nor was she vegetarian,

Red meat, red wine

Her style

And when the band played jazz,

Man or no man,

She'd be there with her spare legs

Shaking her rare, red legs

For all life could give.

An artist in an unusual medium

Of metal and movement

She lived for the rhythm

Of the moment

And even at this moment

She'll be jazzing

To the all star band,

Laughing, laughing,

Enjoying the grand

Rhythm of beyond,

The forever, never

Whirl of runs

And rills,

Legs a swirl.

That was Molly,

Young old girl.

HOLIDAY TIME

Gone on a journey,

Gone on a journey,

She's gone on a journey,

Holiday time,

Vacation from daily,

Doly drudgery,

Rawtime.

Gone on a journey,

Not coming back.

Would you?

Once you break the back

Of daily living,

Daily striving to make a buck,

Care for the family,

See them right,

Always reponsible,

In charge.

Well, now, she's at large,

Ranging the other space

Where there is freedom

To stretch and move.

She's gone on a journey,

Travelling on,

On her way,

Journeying on,

So, no objections,

Wave her along.

SLOW DANCER

She was a slow dancer

When it came to dying,

Moving in the final corner

On the slippery floor of life,

So near the edge,

So graceful,

No fear of falling,

Sure of her steps

To the end.

Faith and assurance

Born of practice,

She was the last one

On the floor

As the music faded

And the lights dimmed.

No one saw her pass

Into the night;

She went

As a whisper on the wind.

OPENING THE DOOR

I open the door.

You are not there,

The house is empty,

Empty your chair.

A spider scuttles

By the fire place.

I start at the movement

In this deserted space

And yet

The memories are good,

They give me grace,

The will to carry on.

I see your smile;

I feel the comfort

Of your warm embrace;

I feel that love that

Lingers on.

There is no death of love

Though you have gone;

There is no death

Where memories remain

And while I remember,

Memories ease my pain.

SEA POWER

Let it go,let it be.

Love is for the free.

Threads are broken,

Without words spoken,

Words are mere tokens

Of feelings, thoughts,

Let it go, let it be.

There really was no you:

There really was no me,

Only one of us.

Now the sea has washed over

And only one rock is left

On this shore;

You are part of a greater ocean,

So, I let go, let be.

HEALTH WARNING

Well, you've eaten your last meal.

Paid the price,

Inspite of those years of pasta and rice

To make up for the cigs and booze,

Fast food of the fast years.

Was it worth the change of diet,

The cholesterol free, no eggs, no cheese,

When a little garlic and red wine

Might have kept you fine

And doing the hippy, hippy shakes

To the last.

I got news.

You died of

The healthy carbo-hydrate blues

STAR TREK

Don't get around much any more.

Inevitable, when you're dead

But nothing to do with age.

Time travel becomes the rage

In the later years of life.

Just hook in and away we go.

It's the star show

Round memory lane and future row.

So, when death comes

You're on the way,

It's just the take-off

With booster rockets at full.

Hear them roar into life

As you slide out

At full throttle.

No, don't get around much any more

Because you're away in a straight line,

Off to explore

A previously

Hidden planet.

A TOAST

Black velvet round the coffin,

Black velvet round the hearse,

Black velvet coats the horses

Drawing him home at last.

Black velvet in the glass,

Smoothing the final path.

This is the wake of the boat,

A creamy froth on black waters

As we say goodbye.

Farewell life's warrior!

Here's to life!

Cheers to those who live!

He'd have wanted it that way,

Draining the glass

To the last.

EPITAPH - "SIMPLY THE BEST"

"Simply the best."

Now she is

At rest from being,

"Simply the best."

In a life,

Sometimes full of trouble,

Nothing was too much,

Nothing too little.

She would help

All the rest,

Let her epitaph be,

"Simply the best."

"SMOOTH OPERATOR"

He was a "smooth operator"

In all he did.

Let's face the facts,

An eye for the girls,

The "main chance".

He led a merry dance,

Yes, a "merry dance",

Living life to the full

Where even "the bull"

Was genuine,

In a way,

His way,

Which he always made

Your way.

One of life's gentle men

With a twinkle in his eye,

Always a thought to your view,

Considerate, kind,

Never blind to others,

Yes, a smooth operator

And always a friend.

SUNSHINY DAY

"It's going to be a bright,

Sunshiny day,"

She used to say,

"When I've gone

That'll take all the pain away

That no drugs can.

One day the window will open

And I'll go through

Where the air is fresh.

I'll be sorry I'm going

Away from you

But 'I'm going to go

When I got to go'

To get away from pain,

Where it doesn't rain anymore.

Yes, one day soon

It'll be, for me,

A bright, sunshiny day."

"SWEET OLD LADIES"

I once heard

A psychiatrist say

That to be a "sweet old lady"

You had to be that way

By five years old.

So, no gold in childhood

No golden days in age;

No alchemist can conjure

From dross nature

So pure a metal;

However, life may grind and bubble,

Cool and distill,

It is for creation's will

Or not at all.

If this be true,

There is no "fall",

All are born or early brought to grace,

Or not,

As case may be

And thus there is

No disgrace

In lack of "sweetness"

In the aged

That in spite or malice,

Sharpness of tongue

Plagued all that cared.

There is no personal fault

And when at last there is

Silence, peace,

Relief for all,

Then simply a sigh,

Even a tear,

Can be shared

In passing.

THE EMPTY CHAIR

No one spoke of the empty chair

In the fold between wall and window.

Cracked lives broken by age

Went on with daily routine,

Pills and potions from the witches store,

Visitors they pretended to ignore.

No one spoke of the empty chair,

For all they knew

It waited there

Where one could view

The world beyond

This place of daily rain

Where no grain grew

And life was spent,

Time for waiting

For the next call.

They glanced

In the fold between

Wall and window

And no one spoke

Of the empty chair.

NOT CRICKET

Have you noticed how often eulogists

Talk like sports commentators:

"He ran a good race",

"He had a good innings;

Stood firm at the crease;

Played every ball life bowled him

With a straight bat;

Kept his wicket intact

Until clean bowled by God",

As though life is only about

Muscularity.

Yet there are those who live lives to the full

Who are not muscular,

Save in intellect or kindness,

Gentleness, love,

For them life is not

A fight for supremacy,

A display, a joust,

An imitation of war

And showy skill,

It is a quiet place

Where other people dwell

And they can share

And care, embrace

And kiss away the tears,