Reflections on the reading of a will


Old people are ghosts trying out their shrouds

parachuting lemmings taking refuge in the clouds,

a ground rush of senility invades their tired brains

degrading their ability with each day that still remains.


They stand on cliffs to paint the sea

and focus on tranquility.

Their dodgy valves leak pints of tea,

they wonder how they came to be.


In drawers they leave named envelopes

with scented kisses and dying hopes,

written by a trembling hand

that shaped the lives they made and planned.


Their epitaphs are incomplete

abridged goodbyes to keep it neat,

their contracts signed and sealed away

in words we’ll never hear them say.


◄ Récit

Un-sentenced ►


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Wolfgar Miere

Tue 15th Jan 2019 06:10

Thank you Ray.

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Mon 14th Jan 2019 17:18

Hi David, I like this a lot, as it reveals its point slowly and coming to a philosophical closure, painting us a depressing assessment a bit like Larkin but with more humour, especially "They wonder how they came to be." Like that first flush of adolescence this is the first flush of wonder. So much sensitivity: "scented drawers and dying hopes." This is a surefire winner for me mate.


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Wolfgar Miere

Sun 13th Jan 2019 23:13

Thanks Katie, Mark and AMC...always interesting and sometimes enlightening to get the thoughts and ideas of others, all are welcome.

It is the little things that mean the most you say, the little messages and memories, maybe some photographs.

My old man did very well for himself but the old bugger isn't going to shuffle off any time soon. My father in-law is one of 13 brothers from an Irish Catholic family from Cork, that old bastard will not die, never knows when he's beaten....Irish Army then The Enniskillen Dragoon Guards (The Skins)...went through the Mau Mau campaign... very nasty little fracas indeed, he now thinks his shillelagh is a bloody FN, he harasses and scares the postman to death on a daily basis.

Life is bloody marvellous, well I think so anyway.


that soothe the ranting mind...chill pill pal, sad.

As a point of interest (well to me anyway) I wrote my first will at 21 prior to my first operational deployment...rather uncommon I would imagine. Then later as the world changed I was required to give DNA samples and personal/private information prior to deployments in order to facilitate proof of life or death procedures (whichever was pertinent) should the worst happen, that was nice. I think about that sometimes and how surreal it all was. Anyway who gives a shit really? some people are very strange aren't an unintentional amusing way.

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M.C. Newberry

Sun 13th Jan 2019 18:08

I had some personal satisfaction making my own will - with its
executor informed of its whereabouts. It was far from a doom and gloom process - a bit like writing in the familiar style of legal reports
from a working life. These habits remain,. My mother died intestate
but her small number of possessions were not a source of family
dispute and I was content with just her spectacles - which she wore
during her final time in this life and do more to conjure up her
memory and presence than most other material things I can think of -
except an for old greetings card which contain lines which now adorn
the family grave - "Love knoweth no death".

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AM Cash

Sun 13th Jan 2019 15:19

A good topic but hate the rhyming but what do I know.

Anyway reminded me to put the bins out so the message got across

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Wolfgar Miere

Sun 13th Jan 2019 13:55

Thanks Taylor,

I'm pleased you found something in this.

Blimey, you are blessed to have such an extended family, it must be hard work but satsfying.

Getting old doesn't have to be so sad, hopefully most of us will have happy memories and people to love us.

I do feel very sad for the old who find themselves alone and isolated though. I feel the UK is not very good to it's elderly, it saddens me greatly.


<Deleted User> (18965)

Sun 13th Jan 2019 09:34

Reminded me of my own nan-very moving a lovely poem x

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Taylor Crowshaw

Sun 13th Jan 2019 09:12

Well what can I say David...I find myself relating to this my own mother never left anything tangible for me to cling onto after her premature loss. Of course the memories remain.
I find myself writing and creating all sorts of poems and gifts to give my children I have done this for years even as a young woman.
'Named envelopes with scented kisses'
What a stirring line that is.
As I have ten children, twenty grandchildren, and one great grandchild it is more of a career..😂
Wonderful poem

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