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

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