Poetry Blog by Hilary Walker

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Hilary Walker on Escape 1970 (11 days ago)

poemagraphic on Escape 1970 (12 days ago)

Hilary Walker on Escape 1970 (13 days ago)

MortimerBlooming on Escape 1970 (13 days ago)

poemagraphic on Escape 1970 (14 days ago)

poemagraphic on Escape 1970 (14 days ago)

jennifer Malden on Escape 1970 (14 days ago)

Ghazala lari on Escape 1970 (14 days ago)

Hilary Walker on Human Touch (Tue, 19 May 2020 07:22 am)

MortimerBlooming on Human Touch (Mon, 18 May 2020 05:34 pm)

Escape 1970

Escape 1970

 

Inside the straight jacket 

she is constrained

last days before death

a lonely loss of freedom when needed most

 

I imagine her emotions, 

tied up, held down, 

crushed

panic spilling into every corner of her sterile camisole

 

inside the straight jacket 

there are moments of clarity

hidden strength

a fight for recognition in a damaged brai...

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Human Touch

The first human language is touch

instinctive

automatic

second nature

touch comes before sight

before speech

skin on skin 

begins each individual journey

 

In life, in death,

in times of great despair touch is there

we reach out, we grasp hold

sustained

soothed by human contact

we respond to those in need

hand on hand

heeding their pain

 

But w...

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Casualty of our time (Coronavirus 2020)

 

One by one they fell

like brave soldiers in combat zone

for months I’d cherished their growth, their beauty

regularly strengthening each one with care 

 

Their colour was luminous, 

deep magenta, vibrant and striking , 

manicured in uniform,  a glossy dance of alignment

sparkling symmetry completed a professional finish

top coat polished, the perfect set

 

Som...

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Aftermath (Covid 19)

Aftermath – (Covid 19)

The telephone conversation ends with his tears

an elderly Jack or Jim, 

sobbing to a stranger 

 

while we chat, I probe gently

for factual detail about the love of his life

names, spellings, dates, years

stale statistics representing a lifetime of existence

 

my question, ‘tell me about her?’ 

prompts an outpouring of lost emotion

opening ...

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