How shall he live
when breathing isn’t enough?
When the curl of his cheek
is apple-blush and beautiful,
his hair brown and lustrous,
his features perfectly formed.
When he wears red and blue p.j.’s,
looks as though he’ll wake
any moment, rub his eyes,
gaze up at his mum and smile.
When his lips turn blue
and she pours her own breath
into him, mouth on mouth
though breathing isn’t enough.
His brain is mostly water
that won’t replenish, water
isn’t enough, water isn’t life,
life isn’t the way it seems.
Alfie is dying
breath by breath.
© Sheila Jacob
Alfie Evans parents appeal against Italy travel ban ruling
Sheila Jacob was born and raised in Birmingham and lives on the North Wales border with her husband. She's had poems published in various U.K.magazines and webzines.
Showing posts with label Sheila Jacob. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Sheila Jacob. Show all posts
Thursday, 26 April 2018
Saturday, 24 March 2018
Step into these shoes
Seven thousand shoes
spangled by winter sun
on the lawn of Capitol Hill.
Pink shoes,blue shoes, brown
and multi-coloured shoes.
Striped shoes,patterned shoes, plain
and glittery-purple shoes.
Green shoes,red shoes, black
leather shoes with ankle straps
and silver buckles.
Girls' shoes,boys'shoes,small
and medium shoes.
Size ten and a half shoes
Daniel Mauser wore the day
he was shot at Columbine
nineteen years ago.
Scuffed,comfy,off-white shoes,
laces untied,fabric stretched
to the width of his toes.
His Dad brought them to Washington,
wears Daniel's second pair-
a perfect match
for his own feet.
Tough, skateboarding shoes.
Gray and black Vans
Daniel won't be needing.
© Sheila Jacob
Sheila Jacob was born and raised in Birmingham and lives on the North Wales border with her Husband. She's had poems published in various U.K.magazines and webzines
Tuesday, 13 February 2018
The undertaker at seventeen
She's learning to tend
the dead,unafraid
of their bloodless skin
restless as silk
beneath her touch.
She can't warm them
back to life
with a flame held close
against the wick
of their inner being
but blushes colour
into arctic cheeks,
smooths crimson polish
over women's nails:
waits for it to dry,
is careful not to smudge
though these fingers
won't flex again,
reach for a diamond ring,
a matching bracelet.
© Sheila Jacob
Sheila Jacob was born and raised in Birmingham and lives on the North Wales border with her Husband. She's had poems published in various U.K.magazines and webzines
Labels:
Funeral Parlour,
Sheila Jacob,
Teenager,
Undertaker
Saturday, 27 January 2018
Papering over the cracks
I scroll down MSN,
weep for the thirteen
blanked-out faces
of thirteen children
tortured by their parents.
I can't stomach much detail,
need sugar-coated news.
Prince William's £180.00 haircut.
Boris's bridge over the Channel.
Harry and Meghan wowing Wales.
I stay with Meghan who sparkles,
shares my daughter's name;
read about her fashion footwear,
statement earrings, green handbag.
Learn where her jeans were made,
what she said when she ate
her first welsh cake.
Yet even here, in my comfort zone,
an evil wind
wheezes through the cracks,
splutters images of girls
in matching tartan dresses-
puff sleeved, satin sashed-
the boys in dark suits,
white shirts, red ties.
Thirteen children
with blanked-out faces,
wiped out smiles.
How can parents torture their children?
Prince Harry and Meghan Markle visit Cardiff for royal visit
© Sheila Jacob
Sheila Jacob was born and raised in Birmingham and lives on the North Wales border with her Husband. She's had poems published in various U.K.magazines and webzines
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