The Stalker

The nagging never ceases.
Relentless! On and on.
Why do you feel the need to torment me,
pester me, worry me, fill me with dread?
If it wasn’t so serious I’d call it teasing,
but your tone is so threatening;
your threats so unspeakable
that I feel I have no escape.
Stop it. Enough! I won’t listen anymore!
 
Niggle, go on. Think I don’t know
you are waiting in dark recesses ready to pounce?
Just when I think all the bullying has stopped;
when I think it is safe to relax;
here you are with your questions again.
So many questions.
Did you? What if? Suppose…
This cacophony of doubt echoes around in my head.
I can’t function because of your jibes.
 
I can’t go on anymore with the doubt
playing tricks with my memory, damaged and unsafe.
You leave me guessing.
I have to turn back, quieten your voice.
Settle this matter, banish my anxiety.
I can no longer ignore your irritating desire
to play havoc with my peace of mind.
I submit, I give in,
and I’ll turn back and check…
 
Did I switch the iron off
before I came out?

© DF 2008

Waste Not, Want Not

Waste not, want not.
my parents were wont to say.
Less now, more tomorrow;
food on the plate everyday.

Fifty years later, their words long forgotten,
we buy in excess,  much more than we  need.
Fridges and freezers should help conserve stocks,
but they unwittingly sanction our greed.

Two generations, little memory, little care
of a bygone age, it’s messages replete
with innate anger, guilt and caution,
but they’ve long lost the receipt.

The world of my parents  – two centuries ago
for all of the relevance it holds to the young,
is gone, or is it? Will there be a time in the future
when the songs of the past are resung?

Will there be a new era, bought on by necessity?
A dwindling of resources, a reluctance to reduce
our share of the earth’s treasures; or find
alternative methods of manufacturing produce.

The wise words of the past, take on a new meaning
with an urgency, seemingly unheeded.
If nobody listens, the planet’s platter will be empty
and such maxims, will no longer be needed.

 © DF 2008
 

The Ghost of Guilt

Another year, another reminder.
A memory of how you arrived,
and the swiftness of your departure.
I knew I had lost you…that you were unable to stay.
Yet as time elapses, the pain remains;
diminished, but always whispering;
conspiring with my anger, toying with my guilt.

I lament afresh your parting;
the huge void you left behind,
acknowledging it should have been otherwise.
I don’t regret your visit.
In many ways it was positive,
leaving me better prepared
to cope with an unpredictable world

No, the only flaw attributed to your appearance
was its brevity.
But that was enough to cause a landslide.
A few hours and the world had changed.
A catastrophe .Moving sands…bottomless pits.
Unexpected and unchartered territory.
No guides; and you, as if you had never been.

Your transient presence however, left an imprint,
a wound; a cut that would never quite heal.
Nor should it.
But what of those who aided your demise?
Whose negligence conspired to force a premature
and short-lived existence.
Does the ghost of guilt shadow their memories too?

I wonder…