Friday, 13 December 2019

You are not here

The nights are not dark enough
I lay in bed but can't kiss your cheek
I can cope with day but not the night

A wise owl hoots outside in a tree
I'm trapped with grief will always be
We've buried you, I hated the sight

The wind now whistles a mournful tune
How strange that is for it's only June
I feel cold too, that's surely not right

Can I live without you all alone?
Your looks, your laugh, you hogging the phone
As you glance at me, eyes flashing bright

The kids are a help, know how I feel
They have asked me over for a meal
But I want you here with me all night

The opening line above is from Kerry's poem Self Portrait in Night

Image found at


  1. To have to miss the one who completes us is a terrible thing. Memories, plus the people and things we used to share with them, can offer a bit of comfort. But like the last stanza suggests, nothing truly feel the emptiness.

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    2. Thank you so much for the tweaking and relinking, Robin. 🖤❤️

  2. I like the form of this poem. The tercets are tightly written, and the rhyme works well to convey the feeling of repetitious thoughts. A sad poem, but thank you for using my words as a starting point.

  3. You captured the reality of emotion after staggering loss ... yes.

  4. Yes, I can feel this one, Robin. How hard it is to lay our loved ones in the cold ground.

  5. This is such a potent write, Robin!

  6. ... this hits all to close to home. My father and father-in-law both recently passed away and watching both women work through it breaks my heart.

  7. The grief seeps through every line in this poem, Robin, and I like the way you’ve spring-boarded from Kerry’s line to paint a picture of the trap of grief, using night sounds to evoke a tragic atmosphere.

  8. Great sigh, I love this poem.

  9. It has to be so sad to live in such absence ... good to have people around you to fill a bit of the void.

  10. Trying to sleep with loss is so painful... You have so eloquently written the pain of grief.

  11. Oh yes! Seven years widowed (already!) and life is mostly pleasant - but still I delay bedtimes as long as possible.

  12. The darkness of night seems to highlight loss. You wrote this in a perfect form, Robin. It is a sorrowful poem.