The poet is a liar who always speaks the truth.
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 P2  Some Poetry

Brother

unsuspecting I took the call

it was at work – after all

the tear-strained voice at the other end

of the electronic line

still did not me prepare

a few garbled words whispered

in my ear then my mind sharpened

my brother jeremy drowned

in a bath tub

they phoned us at midnight

what can you say to that

oh god, was all I managed

at first

suddenly a dry throat and

a sudden thirst

anything I can do

I mumble through

yeah – like I could bring her

brother back

what a load of clap trap

there is nothing I can do

she knows it too

there is very little I can say

I am in the office – already

getting weird and curious looks

she realises too

later, have other calls to make

she manages in a broken voice

I put the phone down

will sit shiva for him I say

with her and her mother

I have never met her brother.

 
      

Tears roll

Rain drops splattering the ground

Hale of tears

Creating large puddles of red

Flowing down the road

Soaked up by the rain drenched

Sand

Red sand

Blood red

Rain driven rivulets

trail their way

Red pattern on a sun drenched

Sand

A single flower

Stands straight soaking in the sun

Rain formed channel

Its red tentacles reach

The flower

The flower drinks

Greedily

Of the rain-red tears

It swells

Bloats and bursts

Red droplets sparkle in the sun

The flower is dead

crumpled on the sand

Red sand

Blood red

Peace is dead
Small One

Open the Door

Put on the public face

All smiles and pretty lace

Forget the heart ache

Never mind its all a fake

The anger must be left inside

 

Now I don't know how to proceed

How to put the words of my heart

On to paper

 


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