Poetry Blog by Just jo

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By Lily

This was not written by me but by my daughter when she was about 12. It is about her grandmother who had cancer and had gradually lost her ability to recognise anyone or remember things. I haven't missed out the last word - that's how she ended it. I carry it in my purse and it still makes me cry.



Remember the days w...

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Standing by the bed you have grown old

Skin creased with sleep, a face sown with a lifetime of laughter and anxiety 

Your beard is white as the May, more white than grey

Lichen brows shield your eyes. 

We are old my love, sagacity and incapacity fruit equally on our bows


You absorb this truth slowly, like soft rain misting the dawn

Standing accused not of rage or youthful re...

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All of you

To those whose love is friendship
And those whose love is endless
To those with just a memory of love that passed before
To the lovers, to the flirty
To the secret, dark and dirty
The romantics cooking dinner, with roses by the score

To those waiting for a true love
Those embarking on a new love
And those whose love is something that is tricky to define
To those holding on with tough lo...

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Can't we just talk?

Wakeful and waiting

Feeling of dread


It’s not in my head

Fearing and hating keep alternating.

There is a monster under my bed.


First, I deny it

This cannot be

Next, I decry it

Surely, not me

Then I defy it, get angry whereby it

Shifts and I cower, tremble and plead


This situation

Is breaking my mind

No explanation

No hope there to...

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Hard enough

Eyes locked, forehead on forehead, softly still.

Interwoven breaths fill each other, inhaling exhalation

The taste of the smell of the sweat of another.

With an embrace this could be love, a tilt of the chin, a slow smile, a kiss.

But your fists are at your side, and so are his.

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