just some drafts ( Stop all the Clocks by WHAuden )

Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,
Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,
Silence the pianos and with muffled drum
Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.


Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead
Scribbling on the sky the message He Is Dead,
Put crepe bows round the white necks of the public doves,
Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.



He was my North, my South, my East and West,
My working week and my Sunday rest,
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;
I thought that love would last for ever:

I was wrong.


The stars are not wanted now: put out every one;
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun;
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood.
For nothing now can ever come to any good.

...............................................................................................................
it encapsualtes a feeling that I empathise with.

Though maybe I would challanege the finality of the the last claim.

It's how you feel and you felt this on all the occasions you remember the departed but wether it is meant as a mantra for continuing existence then perhaps, I fear not.

However. it catches that sense of loss inasmuch that everything you do as the survivor of the relationship lacks just that final completeness of satisfaction.

A new job, promotion, succes in sport, theatre/film trips and holidays all just 1% {?} short of total completeness ... so not and emptiness. for that invalidates the pleasures ... none of those is responsible for the death ....but rather inincompleteness ... missing jig saw piece / unfinished meal / piece of music lacking one chord{note]

Platitude is ' ah well. life goes on .. ' But it doesn't. Not for one and if that one was so much a part of the other then the former is not whole.

"I'm going slightly mad ... {Freddy Mercury ?)
one card short of a deck though in this case the card could be the Ace
one link missing the chain
one stair short of a flight

Maybe I didn't love you quite as much as I should
You were always on mind, you were always on my mind

losing my mind .. the coffe cup I think about you
standing in the room, not going forward not going back ....

I'd skydive from the moon for you ..... and sail an ocean ....

when we held each other tight and you said you were so happy

I was the only person who made you feel glad to be gay & not because we were making love at the time ......

................................................................................................
drafts :)

perfidious pesecution padding the pained patronage love
the persistance of piercing parted your perfect peace

making the same mistakes again to mutilate your mind
living in the belief that belied the memories you will never find

lost to the lasting lunges of an unrestraining impulse


nearly took all ,but were left empty-handed
relinquished in that one instant, subsumed,
into the rolling breaker that milled to a silt

a rejected soul slipping to unfaced oblivion

the blasted shards, chisled facets,

scarred,broken, fragmented and splintered,
scattered in a deslolate deepening darkness:

could not find the axis to hold totality
but like so much broken glass containing the light
cast down to lie discarded, distressed,
a destitution decaying in dislocated destruction

changed from what you were
mutilated to what you have become

not to seem the same ever
love has become the never
that will be the sever of yourself

once so inviolate; now scattered to a nothing
once so soaring; now clipped in the wing
once so tall; now so low

a seeping, liquidity of nihilism
a shadow-winding shroud that seducts

the strum strung tension: from your skin
the blueness: from your eye
the life: from your smile
the pulse: from your veins
the breath: from your lips
the energy: from your spirit
and the spirit from your soul

for that tiny, tiny voice

which is you, which was you

we are changed by what we were;
we are changed by what we are;
we are changed by what we will be;
we are changed by change

distilled, synthesised, clarified, essensed and refined
beyond our perception

our small story rises as a saga of unimaginable beauty, unheard, untold

yet pulsing through the ether of time ....

but it hurts


hey tiger.... how are you?
better than i was......i guess


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after shock / after storm

there is too much to say
and so many things to ask
and apologies to make
plans to be made and lists to be checked


so many tears to share
and so many fears to allay
and truths to be told
smiles to be given and silences to be filled

so many heart beats to be felt
and so many sighs to soothed
and touches to be shared
breaths to be heard and pulses to be sensed

so many texts to be sent
and emails to be written
and calls to be made
letters to be writ and notes to be exchanged

and none possible without you

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