Five years

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Wind back five years
(that’s all we’ve got)
this day, two friends left
walked together, perhaps, who knows
through the coloured light
leaving this world a little darker
a little quieter a little emptier.

The sky will be fierce clear tonight
and amid star-dazzle
and serious moonlight
we’ll tell ourselves we see
our big beautiful Branwell
stretching across the universe
to the Starman on the other side.

 

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Sleep

A variation on the dVerse ghost cat theme that isn’t a Quadrille.

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I see you on the roof at night,

When moonlight silvers smooth red tiles

And hear your cry, so distant now.

A slender shadow in the grass,

You sniff the rose we planted, where

We laid you in the cold, cold ground

And watered it with warmest tears.

Soon, I tell your phantom shade,

We all will fallen petals be.

Sleep, ghost cat, songbirds are calling,

Sleep in rose-sweet petals falling.

Cat star

Remembering, on this day one year ago, two lost boys.

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Grey day dawning

and in the sky

a starman rose,

a cat star leapt,

over the double, over-arching rainbow,

with inhuman grace,

dropping away like morning dew,

the miasma of drugs and sleep,

embracing the wild empty blackness,

the star-embroidered blackness,

the silent, velvet-padded blackness

of infinity.

Branwell: Hope springs

Hope springs in a bowl of water lapped,
A handful of biscuits eaten with relish.
Behind those green eyes, no maudlin reflections,
No regrets for wasted opportunities,
No weariness with the dull predictability of a life not worth living.
Tired, thin and sick, the core beats strong.
No high high philosophical thoughts beneath that skull,
But a tenacious will to live,
To sniff the cold autumn air,
And stalk the rooftops with the joyful morning birds.