Farewell

Farewell Woody cat
A huge chunk of my life has just passed over the rainbow bridge and it’s such a shock. He’s been quiet and sleepy for a few days so I took him to the vets. Unfortunately he was diagnosed with end stage kidney failure and they couldn’t do anything for him.
I’m in bits. He was a quirky cat who slept on the middle steps of the stairs and endangered me every time I tried to get past him. He was a big soft giant of a cat and would put his paw out when he was lying down to say hi. I will miss him very much.

A heart

A heart in the bottom of my mucky mug.

Like a parchment map of old

Stained shape of hidden treasure

And a bit like Plutos bold

Heart impaled on its frosty ground

Making it’s tiny world go round

Hearts bring me cheer

Makes me remember

He once was here.

So I write a poem to remind me

While on the cooker I’m burning tea!

Hubbys cat painting

He didn’t paint much, but this painting was one of our first cats, he also did a tornado shaped painting in many colours, and a sunflower painting (all acrylics on board). These were his efforts at creating some exuberant pieces of art.

He also made drawings which he did in an A4 sized hardback blue book. It’s crammed with notes and thoughts. Often quite disjointed, he was by training a chemist/physicist. That didn’t stop him enjoying the artistic side of life. I will always miss his thoughtfulness and quirky creativity.

Two years (almost)

If I wait a day or two

My tears will flow

Again

Two times around the sun.

Millions of miles away from me.

Energy evaporated

Thoughts dissipated

My memory is all

That holds you

A ghostly shape

3d nothingness

Grasping for you

In my sleep.

Such a robust person,

Lost and gone.

No more conversations…

Gone.

Gon

Go

G

….

Blurry photo

It would have been our anniversary today. We lived together for years before we married. I painted him when I was about 20 and he still sits in this painting looking out at me. I did a lot of drawings and portraits of him over the years, I am glad there are visible memories of him.

What will happen when I go? Who knows what my relatives will want to do with all my art? Will a local museum take them, or will they just get skipped? I don’t know, I won’t be here but I would like to have some recognition. The trouble is I’m very eclectic, I paint for my self in these images. Ah well, more questions…

G-loss

I’ve joined a small writing group in my home town and we are being given prompts to write about. I’ll write up another one later but here’s a poem I did on the spur of the moment when I misheard the prompt Loss as Gloss:

Gloss over your loss

Hide it behind your mind

Don’t let it take hold

Your thoughts must not fold

Into a melancholy way

So be quiet and say

My life will be OK?

If I can find my way.