1.
We have a word
for loss:
a formal time to reel inside grief:
bereavement.
More civilized
than burlap
and ashes in the hair
it never gets old
though we grow used to it,
spooning skeletons in the closet:
feeding peanuts
to the elephant in the room,
fattening what no-one else sees.
2.
a florist ad suggests
we say it with flowers.
so I tell this loss
with thistle language,
stinging nettles
and nightshade
wear it wreathed,
nooselike
around my neck.
Susan Daniels Poetry 
Susan, These are beautiful. You didn’t tell me if you got my mail? >KB
Oh, yes–I have it! Thank you, by the way. I am saving yours for later–when I am not in a mood like this one. That tight little rhymed exercise, plus my sister’s birthday today, spawned these.
Damn! These are both great – but the 2nd one especially just floors me!
(holding iPhone Bic lighter app over my head…)
Damn! These are both great – but the 2nd one especially just floors me!
(holding iPhone Bic lighter app over my head…)
Hahaha–there is an app for that?
Thanks for liking these. The second came from Jennifer’s comment about saying stuff with flowers.
Powerfully and beautifully written, Susan. And keenly felt.
George, thank you. Had to do it–these were a reaction to trying out a terza rima, which I wrote about my sister’s birthday.
Personally, I really like the idea of spooning skeletons in the closet and feeding peanuts to that damned elephant. Can I get away with cliches when I use them that way?
Oh, you do more than get away with them, Susan. I cannot say that anything I have read from you has struck me as a cliche. On the contrary, I read many verses in our community, but I find that there are a few–like you–whose words can caress my heart and reflect my soul as if they were my very own. On my new blog, I have added a page of “Inspiration” to express a permanent “thank you” for all that you and Mari and Pawan and several others have done to inspire me. I am very glad you are here.
Oh, George, you are so very kind. I have to change the notifications I get on your new blog, as your wonderful words are getting lost in my reader. I am so glad you are here too, George. Your poetry is wonderful, and your friendship is priceless.
These are fine poems (although I see them as one): thoughtful as well as emotional, reticent as much as frank. I’m glad I came across them.
John, thank you! I think I see it as a poem in two parts, they are so intimately twined. I separated them because the mood or tone shifted so quickly. Thanks for the comment!
Powerfully moving, Susan. So sorry for your loss
Thanks, C. Loss never goes away, we just get used to it.
Both of these poems are beautiful. I especially like the second.
Thank you, Georgia.
one two punch and you knocked me out
Paul, thank you! Where should I send the ice?
Susan, You do grief so very well. Say “it” with flowers. Yes. And not those balls of mums, baby’s breath and roses, either. Alice
I do love baby’s breath, though. I just can’t associate them with loss–too pretty. Flowers of mourning should sting.
Or stink. Funeral lilies give me the creeps to smell.
I seem to be with the majority (something which I hate!) in that No.2 is a great piece. I’ve missed the poetry, jousts and collabs. Maybe I’ll find time to nip to IP – is it still going?
Thank you, Mike! I like #2, as well (no, not the poo, the actual numeral). IP is deathly quiet, but Miriam and I each wrote a line today on her patchwork poetry, after we knew you were alive. IP misses half its soul–YOU.
That’s very sweet of you, but I think I was just more bullying than others!
It’s a shame about IP, such a good idea.
One thing I’ve done is buy a WordPress site for my work. When things quieten I will look at better ways to do IP.
In the full WP you can have ‘live chats’ and stuff which might make the idea fly better. Still, for now, I must focus on the boring real world.
X
The boring real world does, after all, pay our bills. Sigh.
its been all about loss over here and so tired of those stages of grief we work through–I crave new paradigm and new metaphor for loss and like both of these so much. your brain is the best.:)
-Jennifer
Jennifer, thank you.
Yes, oh yes.
Thank you, shrinks!
Exquisite Sus and yes # 2 touched my beaty-thing 🙂 xx
Oh! Cool way tou describe that. Thank you!
🙂 xx
I can clutch both and cry.
Oh, thank you, Deb!
So beautiful said and so true. we do spoon skeleton in the closet and feed giant in out minds after the loss of a loved one.. You are a true inspiration ♡
Aw, thanks, Patricia.
wow –> “so I tell this loss
with thistle language,”
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