My Husband Writes Poetry

My husband writes poetry. He writes beautiful, emotional and sad poetry.

In a previous blog, I included a link to his first published book of poetry.

He had four sonnets published in Transnational Literature in May 2011. He has also written Words For A Dead Daughter published in Writing Raw.

And last week, I re blogged his poem Whisper Her Name in the Wind.

There are two poems which he has written specifically for me. He has this uncanny ability to write how I feel in a few short sentences; something which takes me a page or me to explain in prose.

He has previously uploaded these poems to his own blog and I would like to share them with you. Both were written for my birthdays; the two birthdays without Clea.

Not a Happy Birthday
(for Trudie, in love and pain) 

He will never again bring himself
to wish his wife
a happy birthday.
For how many more years
will they have to endure this pain?
For how many more years
will their wound bleed?

Let me tell those who skirt their words for want of courage
or those who have trodden a path of silence:
Never is a fucking too long time.
Never is a long crooked knife
stabbing their most intimate hopes,
a thorn stuck inside them forever
scoring and gnawing at their hearts,
cutting down, as if it were a flower, their possible life.
Never is the unyielding rock
that smashed their dreams
wrestling all glimpses of joy
away from them.
Never is the timeless time they will remain here,
waiting until it is their time to die,
expecting a return to a time
and a place before the never began,
waiting to reunite themselves
with the daughter they lost.

26 July 2011

For you crying as ever …

It’s always Tuesday.
But today the wattles have burst into gold,
and I can’t bring myself to say the words.
The skies have cleared, the neatest blue won,
there’s even a hint of warmth in the air
but I can’t bring myself to say the words.
Our hearts might keep beating,
but their beat will not hold
this void, the sorrow,
the unending hollow
that your life has become.
Blue wrens are chirping, magpies have announced
spring’s coming, and flowers
will soon be greeting
our Sunday outings on Gungahlin Drive.
Yet I can only bring myself to speak
the silence beshrouding our house.

About huntersoledad

Mother of three. Bereaved mother of one. Survivor and victim of 2009 Samoan tsunami. Could be if would be writer.
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1 Response to My Husband Writes Poetry

  1. Jenn says:

    These words, and those of Whisper Her Name in the Wind are hauntingly beautiful Trudie. I feel very privileged that you have shared them with us. Thank you so very much.

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