I don't want to talk about 'it'!

No thanks.

I don’t want to talk about ‘it’.
‘It’? F*cking ‘it’?

That
tiny,
snivelling
insignificant
mono
syllab ic simile
for something that’s bigger
than a f*cking aircraft hanger?

Your puerile insensitivity

Let me leave you with that thought.

Hanging in the air,
For you to store in your

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poem by Sue Stone
Added by Poetry Lover
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Tutorial in grief

A lesson in grief

I struggle to find
Inside my mind
Thoughts that will offer
Some crumb of comfort
Black calligraphy,
Brave, brush strokes
Across the blinding stab of pain
That comes with loss

Ah, but then there is darkness.
Impenetrable, like none you imagined
And you will put every effort
Into figuring the exit route.
Wasted effort.
Sit my friend.
Rest, and in its own time,
It comes.

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poem by Sue Stone
Added by Poetry Lover
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