This is a collection of poems based on grief upon the loss of friends and loves through misunder-standings, betrayals and ultimately death.It ia about the essence of loss which is a natural part of life. Dying need not be the ultimate loss of life but there is also loss through a broken heart or spirit. The need to recover from loss is not an easy path. Friendship, the price to pay for love, is all part of taking the risk in living. It's better to live and love than not to have lived at all. The poems start with defining friendship, then concern themselves with death, next the reactions to death, followed by the tributes to several friends who died, and finally the ode to death which calls upon death in its social context.
| TRIBUTES TO FRIENDS |
| To Ruth.. carers of this world | To Dear Bill Kenwright…06 | To an English Rose, Georgina /04 |
| ‘Whither thou goest …I will go | i spoke with god and said, | Georgina Brown, a special lady |
| Your people…my people’ | he may not look it | Eyes not blue, hair not gold |
| said Ruth the Moabite, | but he is one of your angels... | Who is she that I behold? |
| a symbol of loyalty… | not the kind that invests in shows... | Hands so soft and pastry cold. |
| the rock …the glue of family. | but one of your true heralders. | Yet on horseback she is bold! |
| There is no root… | give him your best house seat in heaven | Mother, writer, alive with life |
| no lily of the field… | give him your best house seat in heaven | Raising children and still a wife |
| without a Ruth. | and if your theatre is too vast | Writing in images for her column |
| I sing in praise of her | then put him in the front row, | Who’d believe her being solemn? |
| I sing her name. | he’s very particular where people sit. | Yet she is the English rose |
| She feeds the hunger of love | 'why such special seating? ' god asked | Not eluding her critic pose |
| preparing safe ground | well, said i, he gave me back my future! | Writer and mother to the core |
| for a glow of future…. | he has given a future to so many. | The reddest rose forevermore. |
| Less of Ruth, is less of love | isn't that the greatest gift of all? | |
| And more of her is love of life! | from batman | |
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| TRIBUTES TO FRIENDS NOW GONE |
| The Mystery of Elyse…September/19 | The Mystery of Blanche and Jenny…July/10 | Lucille’s Death…April 4/99 |
| Fire and water, life’s elements together | The pathways long, the end is near | Gently into the night… |
| Direct the base of Earth’s weather | To you my friend… please lend an ear | Pass the days of our delight |
| Extinguish one with just the other | The drizzle of rain, the patter of dew, | Now in deep commitment fold |
| Yet in unison, it created steam | the chattering leaves, the flowering few | The many years to yet be told. |
| Evolving the man-made machine | the bending of bows, the belly of hills | Time stands still or flies away |
| Changing the world into this extreme. | the hand of you that always fills | But memory will make it stay |
| Fire and water are a fugal force | the rolling green of man’s loot. | And you, my friend of many years |
| Erupting at will, or from a controlled source. | You the wind and I the root. | I cannot shed that many tears |
| Fire like passion will explode | You travel far in restless pursuit | You lived your life both full and rich |
| Water breathes life to nature’s mold | over many lands of honey and fruit | And ended it at a high pitch, |
| Trees grow, birds fly…. | while I dig deep into solid earth | Time will not wage war with you |
| Life itself does multiply. | planting seeds for constant birth | You walked that mile, the last to do |
| Fire and water are Elyse’s fashion | travelling in my mind’s eye. | In full spirit, sound in mind |
| Fragmenting with fiery passion | You need the root to fly the sky | Rest in peace, leave us behind |
| Or watering life with tender care | What brings we two of such contrast | And we will feed the loving kind |
| A free spirit, aspiring to air. | to friendship intertwined to last? | To bless them in your memory |
| Fly, oh fly, migrating soul…. | To Jenny Lee I sing my song | For all the world to happ’ly see. |
| Keep moving the light to create the whole! | of friendship’s magic lasting long. | To keep aflame the love we must |
| | | So to survive the pain of trust. |
| On the Death of My Friend Flora Roberts...December12/98 | To My Margo, wherever she may be in her Alzheimers Christmas 2011 | To Margo who died on my birthday January 17/13 my lasting friend |
| She heard, she listened | Margo, my sweet Margo | My Margo is no more |
| She spoke, she saw | with hair of dangling blonde | She died twice over, once before |
| She walked alone | whose musing eyes respond | That willowy form, her flowing blonde hair |
| But not anymore | to any grief or pain | Is gone. She is no longer there. |
| She loved, she remembered | without need to explain. | Her laughing eyes, her gifted mind |
| But as we pine | A candy-stick of sweetness | Just disappeared….I could not find |
| We'll love and remember | In her long-limbed discreetness | The girl I knew who lost my name. |
| Our Flora's time | Where did you disappear? | She truly died without acclaim. |
| We'll miss the wit | Have you found another sphere? | But will live on in my heart and soul |
| The caustic tongue | Where do all those musings go? | For the love we shared has paid its toll |
| We'll miss the warmth | Where are you? We should know! | |
| And care that sprung | Though you may rise above | |
| From a free soul | your spirit, vested with love | |
| Whose song is sung | will remain....with us below | |
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| Pierre's Portrait...December 11/98 | Jackie’s Ring…the old and the new | To Manja ... July 3/03 |
| The cigarette drooped, chat continued | An unsuspected postal gift, | I know a lady of many days |
| While ash upon ash, fell as drops of rain | A coincidence at play, | Who’s queen of all that she surveys |
| Pearls of wisdom spilled with the ash | A new ring, to match old earrings, | And with her beauty nobly reigns |
| Who could lose the drift of his tone? | I happened to wear today | Despite despair of all her pains. |
| Smiles of his eyes, the ironic mouth | A heart-shaped ring carried heart | She is just, majestically fair |
| The words tumbled, the concepts grew | Exuding Jackie's presence | She is gifted and attentive in care |
| This Renaissance man who lived his art | It was alive and warm with love | But like drops of rain in constant motion |
| Will we see his likes again? | It was alive and warm with love | Which fall and splatter in commotion |
| He made his exit, he knew just when | As Jack and Johnny and Larry too | So is life my dearest friend |
| We cannot question his time again. | Have touched the heart so rightly | Its chaos reigns until the end |
| No goodbyes to well loved Pierre | They've fed a friendship of many years | |
| His soul is searching, his spirit's here. | Still burning ever brightly. | |
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| To Norman Lawrence at 91 in /05 | To Gentle Gigi....February 13/00 | Natasha Parry.Brook Dec 2/30 - July 22/15 |
| The dancing feet, the bell-sound voice | The cherub has gone.... | Cherry blossoms with delicate sighs |
| The pressed trousers, the shirt of choice | the blond curls, the sweet smile, | so was Natasha with those sweeping eyes |
| Immaculate image. Yet with chaotic Spring | the loving gentleness, the playing host, | Falling petals that touched the ground |
| Adds to summer’s flowering. | the immaculate grooming...are gone, | covered all that she could surround. |
| His arrows point to France or Rome | though his presence remains. | Those petals may fade away |
| But his pathway led him home | He stood firmly, stubbornly clear | but leave a mark that will always stay |
| Alive and vibrant, hot and cold | With a brave heart so rightly dear | on those she loved with such devotion |
| Here’s to Norman, who’ll never grow old! | Who now will fill the void that’s here? | and brought such strength with her emotion. |
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| Upon My Beautiful Jacky’s Death February 18/00 | To My Bereaved Jack....February 18/00 | To Anna Sosenko.....June 9/00 |
| In perfected symmetry was how she looked | Hearts do not break though we feel they do | She was my old friend, deep and true |
| Whatever she touched became an art | Jacky will long live on through you | A sharp-bladed mind to always see through |
| Each friend, each relation was in her heart | Don't bury her spirit, don't weep for her soul | With a tongue to match, that fettered no fools |
| She leaves a long shadow that will prevail | Let her breathe into you and make you whole. | Using energy as fuel, knowledge that cools |
| And fill the emptiness of our travail. | | Where can her brilliance be held in store? |
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