Monday, 12 October 2015

Remember me...?

George Tooker, self portrait

You look at me and think you know me,
but you know me not at all. 
I am your epiphany, a drawing of last breath.    
In death you will seek me out,
the half-remembered face as if clinging onto life..    
But I would say to you, think on this,
the scythe it swings for all
and I will have no memory of you.

Anna :o]

Inspired by The Mag and Real Toads and also entered at Poets United.   Many thanks to you all!

Thursday, 1 October 2015


Frog jumps a solitary jump,
he pauses then
as if planning move from A to B,
then aimlessly he jumps again. 

Neath him lays a fall of autumn leaves,
all crisp and dry a brittleness.   In some, 
decay leaves naught but a skeleton of arid veins,
a remnant of a long lost summer.  

She sees all this and dwells on it,
dwells on death decay and indecision. 

(Then) black dog of night gives way to  mist of morn,
a hovering of almost calm,
and she decision made,
makes incisions cross her wrists
and bathes herself in blood red warmth,
she a remnant of a long lost summer.

Anna :o]

Shared with the good folk at dVerse OLN, today hosted by the most excellent Björn - cheers Björn!

Image:  Courtesy of Wikimedia Commons
Author: Randi Hausken