NaPoWriMo – Day Twenty Five

Death alludes me
as does Life
fresh air
smells musty and grey
green pastures
appear back and burnt
colourful wildflowers
dotting the hillside
shrivel and die
a welcome relief
from the banality of tomorrow

© Dawn Whitehand 2017

NaPoWriMo : Day Twenty Two

what were you doing outside
when you should have been with me
during those last dark moments

were you watching clouds
as I lay pale

were you picking blossoms
as I lay rigid

were you skipping through puddles
as I lay dying

were you… still in love with me?

© Dawn Whitehand 2017

obliteration

the grey bare Earth shivered
a harsh scathing wind enveloping her
as icy rain lashed her naked body
silver tentacles spiralling upward
squeezing her vulnerable flesh

until finally erupting

and the grey bare Earth was no more

Pen on handmade paper

Pen on handmade paper

© Dawn Whitehand 2016

A Mother’s Day Poem

do you miss the child we never had
that cheeky smile that never was
joyous shrieks of delight at new discoveries
pitter patter pitter patter of little feet
on the cold bare floor
that could have been warm and cozy

do you miss the sparkling sunshine
shining on her golden hair
that innocent trusting stare of clear blue eyes
gazing blankly at eternal nothingness
clap clap clap clap of chubby hands
excited beyond belief at what could have been

do you miss that little life denied by fate

our child that never was

Conte on Handmade Paper

Conte on Handmade Paper

© Dawn Whitehand 2016

Day 28 – NaPoWriMo : A Poem Written Backwards

transforming a peaceful existence to one of ultimate hell
the phone rang loudly bearing tragic news of untimely black death
a comfortable house nestled amongst freshly mown green grass
the eager twitter of tiny birds flitting from branch to branch
warm yellow summer sun rising in a mellow sky
it was supposed to be the best day of my life

Pastel on Handmade Paper

Pastel on Handmade Paper

© Dawn Whitehand 2016

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Prompt from www.napowrimo.net – to write a poem that tells a story. But here’s the twist – the story should be told backwards. The first line should say what happened last, and work its way through the past until you get to the beginning.

Lucid Lost

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the thin line floated
precariously
fading hazier

that rigid dividing line
between
stark reality
and
safe fantasy

the ever present line
differentiating
yesterday from today
today from tomorrow
me from you
happy from sad
sanity from lunacy
life from death

the increasingly elusive line
is gone…

Pastel on Handmade Paper

Pastel on Handmade Paper

© Dawn Whitehand 2016

Death

darkness crept
a cold comforting blanket
enveloping my rotting body

warm tingling
extinguished by bitter chill
iciness soaking my veins

happy memories
brutally consumed by distance
hovering on the horizon

of oblivion

Pastel on handmade paper

Pastel on handmade paper

© Dawn Whitehand 2016

Eulogy for a Buddy

its quieter
without you here
and colder
there is an emptiness
a silent echo
resounding through the house

the moist ground
where once you lay
your final resting place
mother earth enveloping you
in a final warm embrace

RIP Eddy xx

Charcoal Pencil on Handmade Paper

Charcoal Pencil on Handmade Paper

© Dawn Whitehand 2015

 

The Day You Went Away

the day you went away was bleak

a howling wind announced you departure
torrential rain washing away your footsteps
silence reverberated from cold walls

and still does

as does haziness
hang
a gray halo encircling emptiness

where once a heartbeat sang to the rhythm of life
now only silence bemoans the hollow wail of death

Dawn Whitehand

© Dawn Whitehand 2015
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