Tag: death

The Unintentional Death of an Orchid

The Unintentional Death of an Orchid

Why do they think that I must drink
I am waterlogged to the brink
My magenta blooms do frown
As my roots will surely drown
Orchids love humidity
And never morbidity
Why do they think that I must drink
I am waterlogged to the brink

Copyright © 2022 Christine Bolton - Poetry for Healing
All Rights Reserved

Grace is hosting D’Verse Poets tonight. She has prompted us to write an Octelle
The Octelle, created by Emily Romano, is a poem consisting of eight lines using personification and symbolism in a telling manner. The syllable count structure for this verse is 8, 8, 7, 7, 7, 7, 8, 8, and the rhyme scheme is aa/bb/cc/aa. The first two lines and the last two lines are identical. This is my first time using this form.

Worry, Worry Not

Worry, Worry Not

Today I wondered
what is the point of life
when repetition
gives no pleasure?
Wake, work, sleep
Wake, work, sleep
Spinning plates on the top of poles
Keeping them simultaneously turning
Juggling balls in the air 
Making it through the day
only to repeat tomorrow
Rolling a proverbial snowball up the hill
when pushing its weight becomes
more and more laborious
Struggling to keep it on course
Before losing control

The end of the line
Will come into focus soon enough
as this journey is almost complete
Where would this road take me
Will I become one of the demented
or perhaps tragically taken?
Will I suffer a painful Illness or treatment?
or will I be wedded to pharmaceuticals
by the handful?
Will any of these events be acceptable to me?
Will I have any choices regarding the end of my days?

The doorbell rings and shakes 
me from the contemplations filling my head
My questions and concerns
gone in an instant
as the sun shines brightly from
little faces smiling up at me
Those dark and worrisome thoughts
are there for another day

Copyright © 2022 Christine Bolton - Poetry for Healing
All Rights Reserved

Photo Pixabay

Living Death

Living Death

This pain of mine cannot be denied
My anger chooses not to bargain
As I sink into the lows of depression
I cling hopelessly to the habits 
formed by your dysfunction
My crippled heart beats
to the sound of a broken drum
Acceptance is my demise
because each day I die a little death

Copyright © 2022 Christine Bolton - Poetry for Healing
All Rights Reserved

Lisa is hosting Tuesday Poetics at D'Verse and has prompted us with
the book On Death and Dying by Elisabeth Kübler-Ross, M.D. In her book
she says the five stages of grief are: denial, anger, bargaining, depression,
and acceptance.  We can choose one or more of the stages in our poem.

City of Lost Souls

City of Lost Souls

The vanilla sky masked a sun
desperate to break through
Dreariness hung in the air
like a wet blanket on hopes
never to materialize

Remains of life lived
lay in derelict piles of rubble
Dreams and memories scattered
Never to be retrieved
The city, a heart without a beat

Ghosts of the brave
wandering empty streets
Searching for lost souls
stolen from broken bodies
Forever haunting 

Copyright © 2022 Christine Bolton - Poetry for Healing
All Rights Reserved

Lynda Lee Lyberg is hosting D’Verse Poets tonight tonight and has prompted us with first lines of a novel.  There were twelve to choose from.  My pick was:

The winter sun, poor ghost of itself, hung milky and wan behind layers of cloud above the huddled roofs of the town.’- Thomas Mann, Tonio Kroger, Penguin, 1955

Blood Brothers – A Quadrille

Blood Brothers

My blood is your blood
Our tears flow together
in shared pain
Toiling together
our skin colors blend
in earth shades
from our different birthplaces
My brother
anger rises inside me
for I bear witness
to the last breath
as your life slips away
Christine Bolton - Poetry for Healing ©

In memory of George Floyd May 25, 2020

Linda from Charmed Chaos is hosting
Monday Quadrille at D'Verse Poets tonight
and has prompted us with the word Slip.

A Quadrille is a poem of exactly 44 words
excluding the title.

Fight to the Death

Fight to the Death

You were brave and strong
Valiant and proud
I loved you deeply
To you I was avowed
You fought for my heart
and lost your life
You gave everything
To take me as your wife
My life without purpose
Now you have departed
I wander aimlessly
Living broken hearted
I leave this rose
to honor your emotion
The price you paid
The ultimate devotion
Christine Bolton - Poetry for Healing ©

In response to Sue Vincent's Write/Photo Challenge - Honour

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The nondescript neighbor across the street moved today.  Sam saw the moving truck leaving the house as he came home.  He never remembered her name.  In fact he had barely had a conversation with her, other than the cursory “Good morning” if they happened to leave their respective houses at the same time.  It was awkward.  There was something about her that he just couldn’t put his finger on.  She was very attractive but was haughty and aloof.

The first time he met her was when Tom, his neighbor next door, had introduced her the day she moved in to number 2024.  Sam had attempted a friendly inquiring conversation with a “Welcome to Westbrook!  Where are you moving from?”

She had stared at him and he noticed her eyes were a deep cerulean blue. She seemed startled, but recovering quickly she became closed off, almost cold, and made almost no more  eye contact. She offered an excuse and said she was busy with the move and that was that.  Tom and Sam looked at each other and shrugged.  Since that day she had made no friends with anyone as far as he knew.  She kept herself private and non-communicative.

Sam used to joke with the other neighbors that she was likely in the Witness Protection Program or she was on the run from the police.  He couldn’t recall one time when she had attempted to make conversation.

She never attended any of the neighborhood social parties and always kept her porch light off on Halloween so the children never went near her house.  One year the kids tricked her instead and toilet papered her front yard.  No one knew whose kids were responsible and they pretty much left her to clean it up by herself.  Sam felt a little bad about driving off to work the following morning seeing it there but he had a meeting to attend.  When he returned home it was all gone and he assumed she had cleared it up herself or got someone to do it.  He never gave it another thought.

“So she moved out then.” Sam said to Tom who was out in his front yard. He continued, “I sure hope we get someone a lot nicer moving in.  She was a cold witch, don’t you think?”

Tom replied.  “I don’t know about being a witch.  She was never nasty to any of us.  She was just private, you know”

“I guess.” said Sam as he headed to his front door. “See you later Tom”

As Sam put his key in the lock, he looked down and saw a box with an envelope taped to it.  It had his name on it.

He took it into the house and placed it on the kitchen table wondering what it might be.  It was a handwritten envelope and no marking on the box so UPS hadn’t delivered it.

He opened the envelope, which held a card.  He read it.

Dear Sam,

I know you and I have never really had a conversation but I have watched you daily for the past year. 

When I was introduced to you on that day I moved in, you lit a fuse in my heart.  I cannot explain it.  It was incredible and the feeling was very strong, like I had met you before or I had known you in some other life.  I wanted desperately to get to know you but it would not have been fair

I had no close family, having divorced several years ago, and no children.  I was looking for a fresh start somewhere when I got the crushing news.  I was told I was dying and the doctors had given me one year at best. I had already chosen this house before I knew of my illness. I thought it would be a wonderful neighborhood to make new friends. I’m sure it was but I never wanted to be a burden on anyone so I kept my prognosis to myself.

I wish I had known you in this life.  I guess it just wasn’t meant to be.

See you next time around. 

Lori Cooper

Sam felt quite shaken as he put the letter down.  She had died. He was overcome with sadness.  Why hadn’t he tried harder to get to know her? He opened the box and inside was a smaller box in which was a gold heart on a chain.

On a small card it said…

“You stole my tender heart on the day I met you but I had to take it back. I leave you this in its place…L”


Christine Bolton – Poetry for Healing ©

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Photo by Annie Spratt on Unsplash

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The Death of a Cardinal

Just last week a neighbor called to ask a favor.  She was at work and received news that her 97 year old mother-in-law, who lives in an assisted living facility, was not doing well and was taken to the hospital with a suspected stroke.  Our neighbor requested that we help with her dog while she rushed to the hospital.  We listened to her instructions as to where the leash was kept, how to coax the dog down the stairs to go outside, and lastly where the reward treats were kept.  Of course we were happy to help our dear neighbor but felt sad for what could be her impending loss.  As we walked next door we stopped in our tracks because laying there on her driveway was a beautiful male cardinal, dead.  He was so beautiful.  Of course his color was striking but to see him laying there, with no outward signs of distress, was quite shocking considering the task at hand.  Was it an omen?  Was it a sign of inevitable passing? All these crazy things went through our minds.  We were worried for our neighbor, her dog and now this.

As it turned out, her mother-in-law improved later that day and there was no evidence of stroke.  She was experiencing some kind of infection so everything turned out well.  So what of the Cardinal? I picked him up and buried him in the garden with a covering of leaves.  I said a word of thanks for his life and felt a sadness come over me.  Who knows what happened to him.  Perhaps he flew into an oncoming car, or just died of old age.  It was hard to tell but it did stir something in me. I began to think about birds in general and how their behavior is so similar to humans.  They mate for life, building a nest to share with their partner.  They raise their family in that nest until the young are ready to spread their wings and fly away. The melancholy feeling stayed with me for several days and I subsequently wrote this poem.  I hope you will understand and enjoy it.

Death of a Cardinal

A flash of scarlet caught my eye
A cardinal had come down from the sky

I wondered how could that be?
He was too old to have fallen from a tree

He lay there with not a sign of breath
So beautiful but clearly this was his death

I found him alone in someone’s driveway
With no visible damage as he peacefully lay

I imagined his mate full of concern
What did she think when he did not return

Do they mourn like us when a loved one is lost?
Save face in front of the babies no matter the cost

These things always go through my mind
Is sorrow just for the likes of mankind?

Birds have partners as humans do
We all breathe and breed and need food too

We love and nurture those we love
So why did this Cardinal come down from above

It made me realize that life is to be treasured
Who dies and why is not to be measured

This beautiful bird was laid in a leafy grave
With my word of thanks for the joy he gave

Christine Bolton

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