Monday 30 March 2015

Grief for My Mom


Grief for My Mom
My grief knows no bounds
It swirls
And twirls
All around me
It is the winter of my mom’s life
She is dying
Lying
On a hospital bed
My grief is rife
The spring of her life
Began in the Great Depression
A beginning full of strife
That era left an impression
The summer of her life passed by
Raising three children
Time seemed to fly
Until they left the building
The fall of her life was good
It saw three more kids guided
To adulthood
We were her pride
The winter of her life was bad
A loss of balance came with age
It was really sad
That at this stage
Falling was a danger
A life changer
My mother fell
And hit her head
Making her unwell
Almost dead

My Mom is near death
Death cannot come too soon
Her last breath
Is a boon
Because it eases
Her pain
And that pleases
Me
My mother has died
My grief is boundless
I cried
Long, loud and soundless
My mother has passed away
She’s gone with the angels to stay
The four seasons of her life are gone away.

© Phil Renaud 2015

Tuesday 3 March 2015

Running



Running

My lungs are burning
My legs are churning
My heart beats violently
The air rushes by silently
And my skin is kissed by the sun

Why do I run?
Is it for fun?
Am I running to escape,
That dreaded pear shape?
Or is it for fitness?
So that I may bear witness,
To the power of the run.

I run for all these reasons
In all seasons
Running is in my brain
I cannot explain
Why I have this passion
Because after a fashion
I just wanna eat that caramel bun


© Phil Renaud 2015

Poetry Writing



Poetry Writing

Sun glinted off the still pond
Hiding the flurry of life
Beneath those still waters
These are the words
That came out of my pen
When
I sat down to write
Last night
I write what I think
Let’s have another drink
Sometimes it makes no sense
But in my defense
Poetry can be
Something you see
In your mind’s eye
Without a lie
So it all comes down to
What do you do when you go to the loo?

© Phil Renaud 2015

The Massage



The Massage
Granite elbows dig in
To soft flesh
Rod-like fingers poke and prod
At unknown sore spots
Forearm planks
Drag across smarting sinews

Pleasure and pain are felt simultaneously
Pain explodes from taught muscles
Dreaminess and pleasure ensue
Floating weightlessly
Time and space cease to exist
The fog of La-la land slips in
Continued pressure
Cause muscles to snap crackle and pop
Nothing penetrates the fog
Of La-la land

An indeterminate age later
A call from beyond the fog
Brings reality crashing back
Space and time exist again
Incredibly,
Only an a hour has passed,
A calming peaceful hour.

It is done.
The pain and pleasure have ended.
Only memories remain.
Yet the allure
Of that painfully pleasant time
Endures.

© Phil Renaud 2015