Photo by RODRIGO MTORRES on Unsplash


In the quiet of the night, when moonbeams touch the skies
I think of you, and all that you do
It’s in the stillness within, I hear your screams
I sit and listen for your call
Will you visit with me tonite, or has your spirit really taken flight
I ache for your touch just one more time
Did you really have to go, life now seems ever so slow, and empty
Was it right you lost that fight, is it fair you took that dare
Like you didn’t even care, what was it you were proving
Are you happy now your gone, and we are all bereft
It’s in the quietness of the night, when I wish I could have put things right
I think of you.


Another Night….


She knew how it was going to be ,another night, same as before, same as so many other nights. Pawing, brutal men. Dirty, sleazy men. Unattractive men, with the manner of wild beasts. She had to see them all, that was the game she had involved herself in. Were she not to perform her duties, as layed out by her Father, she knew it would lead to more brutal beatings, while her Mother looked on in an approving manner.
She waited in the quiet backlit street, away from the busy throughfare, away from the staring eyes of the middle class happy people, who could guess, or possibly  assume what she was by her demeanor. She was dead inside. No interest, no anger, no disillusionment, no happeniness,  no nothing. Her soul empty, her spirit deadened. A living walking, and occasionally talking corpse.
She waited patiently in that semi darkened, empty backstreet, knowing it would not be long before her customers, punters, sleazy men, call them what you will , would come calling. Her first two customers were men she did not like but was famililar with. She knew from past experience the encounters would be phyisically brutal, but thankfully quick. Reaching into her handbag, she retrieved the packet and withdrew a cigerette,and lit it. Wishing so much she could one day give them up, but they did at least offer some comfort, at least for a few moments.

She watched him in the far distance, at the top of the street. The searching eyes
scanning the area. She knew by his body language what he was looking for, and in a moment or two negotiations would begin, a price agreed, and a suitable, hidden area, in the darkened backstreet selected. She watched as the tall man with the scraggy beard and long
overcoat approached. His steps slow and thoughtful, indicating a deep solitary inner conversation he was holding. As he got closer she hoped and prayed he was reasonably sane, and of course fresh and clean, and that he would be gentle. She studied his eyes, as she always did, with any man who approached her, before she painted on a friendly smile. To check his intent, an indication of mental imbalance, or possible violence. He was after a possible new regular customer.
What she found within his eyes was a slight recognition from somewhere, some other time. She inhaled hard on the cigarette, at times it helped clear her mind. Was he a regular from the past,who had changed his appearance , or was he just similar in looks to so many of the other men she had encountered in the past. The street was quiet, apart from passing cars in the distance. The sky clear. The moon full and bright, with a few stars visible. The night air, fresh and cooling. Something here was amiss. She paced up and down the pavement awaiting his approach, becoming quiet uncomfortable. Those eyes were familiar, so recognizable.
Although his eyes were empty and vacant, his mind elsewhere, or possibly not there at all. Were they still the eyes she had not seen in such a long timeCould it possibly be, after all this time, Could it really be. In this place at this time. But the eyes were the only method they had used to recognize each other after many years apart, in the past.

How much ? ‘ , he did not meet her eyes, just stared at the ground.
She needed to see his eyes,just to be sure.
She held a fresh cigarette in front of her face,
‘Light ?’
Finally he looked her in the eye.
‘No,don’t smoke’.

It was him, she was fairly sure of it now. Of course both had changed psychically, but he was still recognizable to her, just. She had not seen him for so long. So many questions Where had he being, What had he done. Had life being good to him. There was no flicker of recognition from him. His once lively, sparkling eyes, now empty , black and dead.

Where’, his voice soft, and gentle.
‘Don’t you recognize who I am ?’

For the first time in a long time, she actually felt something . Was it anxiety, anger, an eagerness to know. She felt a little alive.
No, I don’t know you, or want to know you’. His eyes cold, empty, dead and angry. No signs of any recognition from him.
She considered for a moment, pushing it. But instead decided to leave it be.
‘I dont wish to go with you, go away and leave me alone’, or I will call him over’, her voice sharp,getting louder and unfriendly. She pointed to the well built middle aged man, who stepped out from the doorway across the street, from where he had being watching. His mouth turned down in a sneer, His eyes cruel and mean. He inhaled on the cigarette he had being smoking.

She watched the forlorn figure of the elder brother she had not seen in so many years, slowly walk away from her. His eyes, dead, black and vacant. He walked out of her working area, and out of her life. She watched him go. Two people living empty, meaningless lives. Across the road, the heavily built man with the evil sneer, stepped back into the shadows.
She took another cigarette from the packet in her large handbag, one day wishing she could give them up.
Grateful for the cooling breeze, the clear sky and the moonlit night. She painted on the false smile,and studied his eyes as the new customer beckoned her over to the black shinny Mercedes car,that glistened in the moonlit. The clatter of her high heels breaking the silence of the night.
Written to a photo prompt seen here : (


Was she floating or dreaming……


Was she floating or dreaming. Sinking or swimming. Whatever it was it felt good. The freedom, the weightlessness, the silence. The aloneness and isolation. So good to be free. Away from him. The very idea of going back, or ever seeing his face again. Too much to even contemplate. As her body slowly made its way to the murky bottom of the lake, all she could think of was the freedom she had gained. She could hear the faint sounds of people calling her name above her, as her friends and family and others searched in vain.

                      Wondering what it was like to die, and where she was headed. Those were the questions that now filled her mind. She was afraid, but also curious. Sad to have left her children to fend for themselves, or at the hands of the state. But satisfied that at least she had set him on his way to the next world. She suspected and hoped he would find a warm welcome in the fires of hell. His cruelty so devastating to her and her children. But now they would all be free of the tyrant.
                        She could not face the years of incarceration that would being her future had she lived. Trapped behind bars forever. But here in the murky waters of the lake, she was at last free.
                   To take her final journey to wherever that would be……….

Is it done, am I free
Am I dead, with so much left unsaid
I love my children, but I have set them free
So they can be, what they will be
No more will he abuse, knock them down, and call them fools
No more will they be fearful, of his cruel and callous ways
How he blackmailed us with his financial prowess on oh so many days
I’m glad that he is gone, for we are safe now, no more tears to shed
My children can safely lie in there beds, with no more fear or dread

Although I am not with you now, nor ever will be again
Be certain I will always watch over you in whichever way I can
I don’t know where I’m going, or what will lie ahead
But this is what happens to a person when they are dead
I am afraid I tell no lie, but I’m also curious
But I’m hopeful your life will work out, the way you’d like it too
I could not face that prison term, trapped for evermore
Behind some solitary iron clad, steel and solid door

I did him in, maybe it is a sin, but maybe God will understand
This was not a nice, decent man, showing his family an honest hand
He was cruel, he was mean, he was nasty and unclean
He was brutal, a buffoon, a demon who was underhand
He was not in any way, qualified to be a family man
He should not have lived, it’s best he is dead
So that his cruelty and meanness is better left unsaid

I ask your forgiveness my children for what it is I have done,
I have taken away someones brother, some mothers son
But I have set you free my children to live a better life
Be not like your father, but be a better man
Don’t be that snake in the grass, don’t be so underhand
Lift people up with the kindness of your words, and be an honest man
Please understand I could take no more, of his cruel,brutal ways
Don’t be angry with me, the way I left this life. Cant you see I’m happy now
I’m free, maybe one day you will understand
Be free my children and live a happy life
As I will watch over, and love you, each and every night.

This was written in response to a photo prompt seen here :

Never Settle…..

Never Settle

Never settle,you can do better,anybody can tell you that
He ain’t no good,she could be better looking
How can they even say that
But what do they know of my life,as it is
These people offering such sage wisdom and advice

What gives them the right to interfere in my life
As they do so night after night
I don’t want your damn advice,so keep it wrapped up real tight
In that small little mind of yours,I’d really,really love to clamp in a vice
My God you drive me insane,and your such a drain

I mean for goodness sake,I’m just saying
Go mind you own,and live your own life
Not be so interfering,causing other people such strife
I gotta get away from you,and others of your ilk
Those who pontificate,and castigate,I’d love to wrap up in silk
Post them off to outer space,so I can have some peace

I don’t cast my views on people and the lives they are living
I don’t want that foolish advise,that your determined to keep on giving
Go away and leave me be,so I can find peace of mind
Get a life of your own,and leave me alone
Or one of these days,you may find you don’t exist no more
Done and dusted,with a little help and out the door

So you take care now,but don’t you people dare now
Come offering unwanted advice,at all times of the day and night
Regarding what you believe is right for my life
And what it is that I should settle for.

This poem is a response to a photo prompt seen here :




‘Are you bitter’, I asked her. Treading softly. Doing my best not to inflame an already flammable situation.
‘Yes I am,my life has being wasted, I wish to Christ I’d never meet him. The life that man had put me through, you don’t know the half of it’. Trying to commiserate with her sadness, but it was hard after hearing the same old story being repeated and replayed every few days. The same negativity spewed forth with such venom.
                                                      I began to detach myself from her angry words while she spoke. I feigned interest at times, I was a reasonably good actor, after all. But I allowed my mind to drift to happier scenes, images. So as not to be drawn into such negative energy. It was the only way to keep some sanity.

Sure she had a hard life, living with a chronic alcoholic. With the crazy mind games they play. Even when they give up alcohol, unless they get psychological treatment, which did not happen here, they still have the crazy alcoholic thinking, attitudes and behaviors, just without the alcohol.
I asked of myself did I feel bitter. Yes truth be told I did. But also some sympathy for him, for his illness, but not for the way he treated her. Can I forgive him, maybe , a little. Now that I myself have been on the receiving end of his crazy making, I find myself becoming bitter too.

via Daily Prompt: Bitter