family – Page 8 – Hues of Hankinson

Are you going away with no word of farewell?

Mother

Died suddenly

Bereft beyond belief

I mourn her untimely passing

Tears shed

Still night

Stars beguile me with their beauty

My heartfelt loss immense

Grief engulfs me

Silence.

©Alison Jean Hankinson

This is for d’Verse poetics. It is a reverse cinquain? My song choice was Tom Paxton. “The last thing on my mind”.

Tom Paxton

It’s a lesson too late for the learning
Made of sand, made of sand

It will soon be the anniversary, she passed away in 2008, suddenly without saying goodbye, she was 64, and I was on the other side of the world and didn’t even get home for the funeral. We all feel it still. She was my mum.

Dolores desires…

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Dolores dreamed of owning a dog, a dachshund to be precise. It would wibble-wobble down the street, and always be at her side.

Dolores dreamed of owning a dog, a dutiful and loyal pedigree. It would sleep contentedly on her bed at night, in return, she would love it unconditionally.

©Alison Jean Hankinson

I wrote this for Ellen.

The image is from wikimedia and is for re-use in the public domain.

Lamentable Dementia.

Morgan Stanley, Epping Forest

Fisher Dogger Bight.

Cream Teas, cottage cheese

What has happened to my sight?

I had a boat the Mary Ellen

She sailed the seven seas

We braved the ocean regularly

We relished every breeze.

I sometimes think I had a wife

Whose name was Rosa May.

I’m not bitter-I enjoyed my life

But my memory has gone away.

Who are you? Why are you here?

Losing my mind is what I fear.

©Alison Jean Hankinson

This is for d’Verse open link night, and is dedicated to the people who reside at Rimu Park, Radius residential care home in Whangarei, where I used to take the students to read to the older folk.

Dementia is a cruel disease in so many ways. You have to try to build up the picture of a persons life from fragments of story. I think this is what dad would be like if he ever ended up with dementia. He sailed his boat for as long as he could after he lost his bosun and has now moved on to caravans, but the shipping forecast with its wonderful array of places was always waited for and listened to.

The beauty of imperfection.

In d’Verse we were asked to focus on imperfection for our haibun Monday Wabi-Sabi. My haiku isn’t a proper one as it is human.

Today I started my new job and met some new work colleagues. One beautiful lady was in the office with her baby, she was on maternity leave but had come in to share the joy of this young man. He looked beautiful and his arms were so open and he looked so uncurled and yet it took me back to the arrival of my girls. Ellen emerged in a state of perfect relaxation, but Emily’s arrival was more stark and primaeval, the screams were of real anger and short-lived. She was whisked off to the SCBU within the hour when I told the nurses it sounded like she was barking. Unbeknown to us the damage was already done.

Emily was diagnosed with cerebral palsy in the November on my birthday, was classed as having spasticity in all four quadrants and we were told she might never walk. Ellen and Emily worked together on this and she walked at 16 months old. We just carried on as best we could and she has achieved so much in her 18 years so far, and her imperfections are actually just a part of her surreal beauty and magical character. What she has achieved so far in her young life is way and above what many people without such obvious imperfections achieve. I told some of my story and was horrified at the irony-all is not what it seems and this little fellow had a similar story, but my little girl with her imperfections is nothing short of inspiration for others who are treading these uncertain imperfect waters.

Winter frost beckons
Stiff frozen imperfections
Sibling love melts ice.

©Alison Jean Hankinson

Love beyond the grave.

She gave away her heart

Beneath the beating sun

He held her hand so close

She was his only one.

In time, they knew, love grew

More each day and more

The years went by, youth flew

Old age caught up for sure.

In death she held his heart

And wept for days of old

Her tears ran down his face

Against her skin his hand felt cold.

Love lingers on beyond

Though tears she sheds no more

She takes his love to Heaven

His soul to meet once more.

©Alison Jean Hankinson

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A second attempt for d’Verse…at trimeter…wonder if I got it this time?

The image is my Great Grandfather John Henry Mcclanaghan and his wife Frances with their eldest daughter Frances. Taken about 1904. theirs was an unusual love story. Some of it is in the link below.

Salford Pals

At the final sunset

In the end

It doesn’t matter what you had

It matters what you gave.

In the end

It doesn’t matter what you avoided

It matters what you did.

In the end

It doesn’t matter what they thought of you

It matters how you perceived yourself.

What joy gave your own life meaning

What peace you found in your own heart.

What indelible moments you left in the hearts and minds

Of the people you loved and who loved you.

©Alison Jean Hankinson

Paul Scribbles asked us to write about “the end” for d’verse.

Missing Ellen

For a moment my resolve waivers

I am on a precipice being plunged into darkness

By the weight of losing you.

Dull ache and yearning for your return.

Was I a good parent?

Should I have done more?

A flicker of doubt devours me.

©Alison Jean Hankinson

This is for d’Verse. Happy sixth birthday. It is Quadrille night and the word we were given was flicker. Ellen is my eldest twin daughter and we left her behind in NZ- very remiss of us. XXX