Nicola Beckett on BANANAS
4 hours ago
One whole year's
Like lace leaves
From the cold trees
You are missing
Boxed deep and dusting
With bristles flaking
From the broken spine
So no silver lines
Our crisp, black-branched pine.
Tuesday 30th March 2021 10:26 am
Christmas fairy lights still dangle,
Plastic string of neon candles,
Hallowing the wreckage of the year.
Streaming ‘River’ on repeat
River Warbling marrow-deep
Wash away those spiteful, December bones.
From jigsaws sat on nickel knees
To whisky-nursing you in sprees,
Femurs first you left us piece by piece.
Frailty distils the waters
Trickles down through all your daughters
Break dust with smiling ...
Tuesday 30th March 2021 10:22 am
This poem is deeply personal to me and is about my time I spent as a crisis worker helping people who were experiencing mental health emergencies or attempts of suicide. The subject of this poem is suicide; please know that its contents could be triggering. If you or someone you know and love are experiencing suicidal thoughts or need to reach out, please don't hesitate to talk to someone. You are...
Saturday 10th October 2020 7:40 am
While mourning his daughter Tullia, Cicero took to writing a book of self-consolation. Thinking himself the inventor of this type of self-help, he said, “Why, I have done what no one has done before, tried to console myself by writing a book.” (This is quoted by Han Baltussen in the Nov. 2009 issue of Mortality in an essay titled, “A grief observed: Cicero on remembering Tullia.”)
I certainly d...
Wednesday 23rd May 2018 10:27 am
My dad's favourite shoes
He saved them for best
He wore them just once
As we laid him to rest
Dedicated to the loving memory of Jack Evans; love you dad x
Thursday 23rd November 2017 1:07 pm
No more confusion, no more pain,
Just a stillness of mind at the ending of time.
Another leaf’s fallen, unseen by the world.
But I watched the fall.
A silent descent,
But I heard the call.
He cried out, there was fear in his voice,
He tried to give comfort now removed of the choice,
Allowed one brief moment to make himself heard,
Just one direction, unable to turn.
Tuesday 9th May 2017 3:00 pm
My heart told my head she must still be here
here in the house where her life had shaped me.
Yes she would never pass this way again
but my heart told my head that these
markers of a life, the reclining chair
radio, the familiar curtains,
piano I cut my future on
these transient things must be passed on
to the world outside.
My heart would burst though it must ...
Friday 14th October 2016 10:37 pm
(This is a re-post of a series of five interconnecting poems, previously blogged as separate poems. The death of my mother last year was preceded by hearing the tone poem Finlandia, by Jean Sibelius, on the radio, and it so completely described how I was feeling that it took me over, and informs the whole series.
As a big nod to Sibelius, I decided to use a loosely-based symphonic structure, so...
Tuesday 26th January 2016 2:32 pm
The loss of you
The day I lost her, all that she meant
The day I lost her, the day that she went
I cried the loss, of a true friend that day
I cried the loss, when she went away.
Sadness and sorrow, has broken my heart
Now that you've left us, to sadly depart
Taken to early, just age 43,
The prime of your life, taken from me,
The world is now grey, the colour has gone
Now you've been...
Wednesday 1st October 2014 7:45 pm
My uncle, Gaston,
mum's bro (1-yr apart),
died whilst I cradled him
in the crook of me arms.
He lay there bliss-filled
Faint lustre of his boyhood charms.
It was a waiting game
& he was hanging on.
He held back the Ripper's blade
Unmindful that he'd had it made.
Friday 8th February 2013 1:00 am
Comes and Goes a Day
The rim of a hat tilts silently towards me
While a kai-bosh batters my thoughts,
And my head banging wall is dented so violently
And tickles of torture trickle streams of blood;
Fatigue holding tight like a noose from
A snakes ardent enquiry,
Thursday 25th November 2010 2:33 am
the needles click
as strand by strand
in cracked crabbed hands
might haul them
back to land
her days, her nights are one, the same -
a gift of darkness borne by grief
to wounds already salted well.
lips taste each quarter
of the wind; she hears the tides
advance, retreat -
as if in echoes from
some ancient stranded shell.
she feels t...
Monday 4th May 2009 2:25 pm