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maybe it took this poem
maybe I was just set up by
my own hurt
maybe it's just these times, or
maybe
this last one just hit me like a
storm, or
maybe it's
you
or
her
 
 
I'll get to work on this
dave
-----Original Message-----
From: WHONROCK1@aol.com <WHONROCK1@aol.com>
To: editors@artvilla.com <editors@artvilla.com>
Date: Wednesday, October 17, 2001 6:37 PM
Subject: for your review and consideration
 

this one is posted on  Allpoetry Poetry Network: Poetry contributions by the Can.to artist network to absolutely incredible reviews by other poets, i thought you might wish to take a look at it...
i must warn you before you read this poem, i am not sure if this is a true memory, or a representation of the thoughts and feelings i had on nov 13, 2000 upon my return from the funeral and burial of my wife, at this moment, 5:30 mdt 10-17-01, it is only 75 hours old, i see no need to revise it, since it's had such incredible reviews from much more experienced poets than i.....

The Most Horrible Morning

When I got back, from there…
That night, I couldn't sleep…
I told you, "I love you."
But you didn't respond… Why not…?
Weren't you there?

I thought I touched your shoulder…
Didn't I…?
Was that your voice, saying, "I love you"?

Is that you, in the moonlight?
Was that your hand, that touched me?
What am I thinking?

Perhaps, when I sleep tonight,
I'll wake in the morning,
I'll realize the last few days were nothing more,
Than a horrible nightmare…
Sleep…  come over me…
Let me finish this nightmare,
And you'll be here…

Close eyes… sleep come… finish this nightmare…
So I can wake in the morning,
And she'll be here…
And the last few days,
Are just that, the most horrible nightmare
Anyone has ever had…

Sleep comes… I think…
Is this a dream?
I love you… Why don't you respond?

Oh no, is it morning already?
I feel for you in the bed…
Where are you?
Did you wake before me?
Yes, that's it, you're out making coffee…
Let me go look… "Honey, where are you?
Oh yeah, you went into work last night…
Why don't I remember that though...?

What's this? Flowers?
I don't remember buying you flowers,
Especially this fresh…
Where did they come from…?
Oh, there's a card…
Maybe that'll remind me…

What's this on the card?
NO…  OH, NO…
The card says… NO… PLEASE…
It's not possible…
You're here… you're just at work… Right…?

The card says:
"in sympathy…" NO…. PLEASE NO…
It can't be….

These last few days, were nothing,
More than a nightmare… RIGHT?
OH MY GOD….  NO…
They were… weren't they?

SLEEP… COME BACK TO ME…
Nightmare, come back…
Let her be here, when I wake…

Suddenly, the phone rings… Is it you?
A woman's voice says…
"you're back,"
but it's not your voice…
"can I do anything for you?
I'm so sorry…"

Oh my GOD…
NO… it can't be… It can't be true…
But it is… NO… NO… NO…
She'll be here in a few minutes…

There's a knock on the door…
Why did you knock? You live here…
That's it, you forgot your key…
But, it's a friend of ours… It's not you…

Please don't make me open the door…
Because…  if I do…
It can only mean… One of two things…
Either the two of us shared the same nightmare,
Or… NO… please NO…
That's not possible…
What's that forlorn look on her face?
That means…

OH MY GOD… NO…
PLEASE NO…
If that's not possible…
Then that means… NO… NO…

That means…
That horrible nightmare, was no nightmare…
The memory… the memory… is… real…
OH MY GOD… NO… NO…
PLEASE… NO…
It's real…
My wife… died… in… my… arms…
 
 

© Jonathan Wikkins
All Rights Reserved

(my pen name)
real name, Mike Shurtleff
  >



















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