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Signs of Life

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Signs of Life. He bumbled and grumped through his morning routine. Bedroom drawers rumbled open with no clack of closure. Water spattered from taps. Downstairs, doors clumped shut, cutlery crackled against crockery. The kettle clicked into rumbling action. She waited, quiet, listening. How loud it all was. These noises intruded, silencing her thoughts, quashing her dreams, tethering her to this life. Their life, his life, only partly hers. Later, she would make noises of her own.

I found this in an email from way back in 2014. It was a submission to Paragraph Planet. I can’t remember if it was accepted.


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Grief hits at the most random moment. A song, a smell, a phrase overheard in conversation, each
reduce her to a mess of tears and sobbing and snot. She hears his voice, calm, in her head, “It is what it is. Enough now. No more tears.” But the tears will not stop, not yet. She feels the pain of his absence, as real as any wound, raw and red. The tears are her only salve.

#paragraphplanet 31.3.19

In memory of my friend Alan.


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Hastily tidied, desk
gains semblance of order –
the weekend beckons.

Stumbled on a haiku from 8 yrs back. Quite apposite.


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The words had been carefully placed. Dropped like pebbles into water they rippled outwards in infinite circles. The repercussions would drag them all down. The chaos he had held in check for so long was breaking loose, and he knew without a doubt attempting to stop it now would simply churn the waters more. It was unfair, but once uttered, those words could not be taken back. Helpless, he watched as life collapsed around him.

Paragraph Planet 10.1.2019


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Peter folded the paper, carefully aligning the edges, and slowly scored the crease with his thumb nail. His gaze focused somewhere off in the distance as he absently tapped the paper with his forefinger. Tap. Tap. Tap. The movement and sound seemed to pull him back to the present. He looked at the paper, tapped it again – tap, tap, tap – then tucked it carefully into his pocket. Time later to deal with that, he thought.

Paragraph Planet 17.10.2018


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Heating on
Duvet up to my chin.
Cat curled sleeping
Peaceful, beside me.
Sudden coldness
Lifts hairs.
A step on my grave.
A ghost passing by.

#micropoetry #napowrimo18

Fairweather Friends

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Fairweather friend. I am not your fairweather friend. I am your foul weather friend. I am your friend for the dark days, the stormy days; the days when you roar and stamp and everyone else runs for cover. Not for me the days of sunshine and sweet talk. On those days I am sidelined, shunned. On those days my presence is too painful. I disturb the peace of your sushine days with my stormy memories.

Paragraph Planet, Nov 9th 2017

Tweaked it slightly.

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