Friday, 25 January 2019

I Know He Loved Me...

I know he loved me

When the years were young

And so was I

I know he loved me

When the world was ours

And every day he'd say

This is our special day

I know he loved me.

So, when did all those feelings

Start to fade?

When did we lose the special in our days

When did I move from sunshine

Into shade

Within his eyes

I know he loved me

When he held me in his arms

And spoke my name

I know he loved me

I was the moth, always attracted

To his flame

I felt so safe

I know he loved me

How could the seasons of his love

So change

That I no longer felt warmed

By his flame

How could the tender textures

Of his kiss be so remiss

To feel my hurting

I know he loved me

When his eyes

Looked into mine

And touched my soul

When each part of us together

Made one whole

The perfect mould

I know he loved me

Looking back

How could I fail to feel

The shift as slowly

He drifted from me

Perhaps I too had drifted

In some way

And had I not

Would he have stayed?

I'll always love him

Even though his love for me

Has long since gone

Even though

The tears I cry I cry alone

I'll always love him.

Poem only © Copyright Lynn Gerrard

Wednesday, 23 January 2019


Give me my needles

Give me my yarn

Give me my memories

To restitch moments warm

Give me the time

Give me the chance

To knit back our yesterdays

And relive life's romance

Poem only © Copyright Lynn Gerrard

Sunday, 20 January 2019

The Dream...

When she woke up

From the dream

Still haunted by

The things she had seen

She could not wait

To dream again

Those long dead things

Were her only friends

Poem only © Copyright Lynn Gerrard

Wednesday, 9 January 2019

Happy Hour In The Mortuary...

It was Happy Hour

In the mortuary

And as the clock struck twelve

Steely doors swung open

And cadavers shuffled from shelves

Some were sturdier than others

A few were missing odd parts

But this didn't halt rictus reverie

Nor did it Formaldehyde farts

Old Mary was giving it big licks

As she grooved to songs from the grave

That's what brought her here in the first place

When she fell off the stage at a rave

Big Barry had choked on his supper

Whilst devouring a hearty pot roast

The irony being that posthumously

Breakdancing popped pork from his throat!

Shelf-stacker Sheila from Sheffield

Was lovin' a bit of hip-hop

Just as she once had in her living years

'Fore succumbing to a dodgy hip op

But the one who displayed all the best moves

Was Stan the night porter who dropped

Straight to the floor at the sight that he saw

His dance being 'Convulsions In Shock'.

Poem only © Copyright Lynn Gerrard