Farewell

Today's prompt is to write an elegy in which the abstract feeling of grief is made concrete through physical detail.

George

I never knew our chat

on that bench by the sea,

where we watched the mole dig,

would be a fondest memory

I never knew our ride

on the funicular at Cape Point,

which we got for free,

would be a good chuckle

I never knew our drive 

on Chapman's Peak,

after Eileen's wedding,

would grow our faith

I never knew

that I,

who thought you immortal,

could ever miss you this much

To my friend

Again, I really can't believe that April is almost over. The next Global Poetry Writing Month can't come quick enough!

Today's challenge is to write an elegy. This is no mean feat as it requires, in my opinion, doing someone you miss and love justice in but a few words and with a conclusion of hopefulness.

As my grandparents' deaths are still far too raw, I'm going to write an elegy for a friend. I doubt it will be any easier though...

Moon boy

You once told me the crescent moon

looked like a banana in the sky,

that I should toast marshmallows there

You showed me your art with pride –

an abstract waterfall

on your bedroom floor

I glimpsed a piece of your heart

in your midnight poetry

and birthday cards

Your kindness and love

shone in your eyes;

your life told a story

But you left a legacy, an example –

big shoes to fill

and a hole in our hearts

Now you toast marshmallows 

on your banana moon –

 one day, I will join you

Elegy

This prompt hits home rather hard. Three of my grandparents passed away last year. This elegy is for my grandpa, George, who passed away first. It was a horrible shock to the whole family, but he lives on in my heart and mind with much, much love.

*Takes a deep breath...

George

 Your walking stick

Does not replace you,

Does not bring us comfort,

Though you threatened to hit

Anyone who'd hurt us with it

Your hat

Does not suit

Or fit anyone else

Though we'd prefer to see it

Again on you anyway

Your booming voice,

Your shaking shoulders

As you'd chuckle to yourself

Can still be heard across the months

That you've not been here

I miss your interruptions

And your phone calls

To help you with an email

I miss typing your illegible scribbles

And filling in your missing punctuation

Most of all, I miss you

Calling me from across your flat

"Annie, my girl, come here!"

And your long-winded stories

About how you knew everyone

(which you indeed did!)

And how you listened

You really, really listened

You made us French toast

And vetkoek 

And the best onion rings ever

I miss your profound wisdom

And your sharp humour

I miss your interest in me

I loved your garden

I still love you

You did your best

And gave your all

We are blessed

And yet we're empty without you 

Andrea Vermaak

(I have to stop now before I become dehydrated from crying too much. This is one of the most difficult poems I've ever written.)