Carly's Story

She was nineteen,
and he brought me home to keep her company.
She had a big belly,
and she decided to feed and walk me.
This thing came home,
it was small and cried and I didn't want to leave it alone.
Another one came,
and I felt the same.
We moved from place to place,
sometimes I ate lipsticks,
sometimes I hid in the chair and sofa space.
I ran away.
That was a bad day.
When I came back they loved me that little bit more.
They rode me like a horse, though it hurt my little legs, I liked it.
They dressed me up.
They brushed my hair.
I was always there.
I slept at the bottom of their beds.
When he heard I was dead
a little bit of him seemed to die with me
this dog's life was the best he could give me.
I reflected their childhood in my eyes.
I was a little scrawny surprise.
I used to put up my paw.
But one day I just had to collapse on the floor.
And when I closed my eyes on that final night
Something sunny went out of the light
and I saw them cry but not hold each other;
they wouldn't feel the same grief till they lost their mother.
I witnessed it all,
the rise and the fall
of the family.
The houses and fights and the sadness
I hid behind the sofa during points of sheer madness
And I ran up to them all.
Jumped up, gave my paw, rolled over
I couldn't have been better had I been called "Rover".
A mongrel from a shop window,
I was a dog that showed some children to grow,
I comforted her in the screams of the night
I made sure he was in bed and alright.
I watched over these friends,
Through storms and around the bends,
Until my legs gave way,
And I was unable
I was unstable and old
Truth be told,
I'm still watching.

The Story

Born in Airedale, in the sixties,
they called her "Tubby Lister".
She was a late bloomer,
stayed in her room, playing Wham.
Then BAM.
Benidorm, 1982.
She found you,
or you found her, who knows.
This is how it goes: the Yorkshire and Lancashire merger
took my future further.
Dexy and his Midnight Runners sang about Eileen,
and there was Helen, she was beautiful and seventeen.

So this began. You ran, and
you both ran after each other,
I don't ever doubt that you loved one another.
A little flat, a little puppy, a little baby: me.
Things got fairly serious, quite seriously.
You changed your life, and so did she,
that's just the way people thought things had to be.

Imagine if life had just split right there,
you had not stayed together,
you'd said it wasn't fair
to be tied down, to be stuck in that town,
where all you felt was some rope dragging you down.
Take the baby, raise it alone, Grandad said,
My god, can you imagine the life I'd have had instead?

I apparently emerged into this life,
With a little puppy to accompany me.
The first child, the one in pink,
in photos.
A tiny flat, I wish I could remember that.
For a long time I thought I was a mistake
but what a mistake to make.
Flashing pictures on the wall,
years later, made me see
that you loved me completely.

And then came the other little surprise,
Daniel with his curly hair and squinty eyes.
A stout little maniac with shovels for hands,
he ruined days out and kicked his shoes in the sand,
he jumped into pools and cracked up his skull,
if life were a china shop, he was the bull.

He was clever they said, a genius perhaps,
And growing up, despite the occasional lapse,
he remained the clever one.
And I resigned to be the one that never won.
She loved him more; I always knew.
There was just so much more of me that reminded her of you.
Until I left, went away, spread some miles.
She reached for me in the agony of a trial.

And our story has gone on a different trail,
Thinking twice now that I've lost you, I've flailed
and gasped and we've been through so much strife.
But you are the anchor of my life.
We are the same, and I am proud of that fact,
every now and then, though, I need to react
to feeling the way I do. And you can't talk to me,
in the way I need my dad, best friend, mentor, to be.

And then Helen thrashed out of this life.
Or slept through it.
Doesn't matter, she's not here to
talk to if I wanted to. Which I do.
I lost a limb, no not that, an organ.
A piece of me that can't be replaced,
I will never close my eyes and not
see her face. Every thing I do is laced
with the loss of her.

So we are now placed here. Later.
Your children are together. And trying. We need to try to
get over mum dying.
I know we are grown and we are old enough,
but is it still okay to say I am not that tough?

I still need that man.
Because I'm your child and you're my father. That will never change
No matter my sadly increasing age.
You still are that hero. That Rochdale imposter.
Don't let me lose you, now that I've lost her.

Little Girl

She's waited for you, little girl,
since you were a poppy seed.
A hop, skip and a jump in time and you were soon
the size of a lime.
A little squirt that soon
became a tiny onion.
You made them cry;
tears fell, not sadness but joy and then the little dot
became a carrot.

Later, a cauliflower; hour by hour
as if made by flour, you were rising.
You grew stronger, little girl,
and though time, it grew longer
you'd shortly be a little cabbage
that belongs here.

Next, a butternut squash.
Orange and vibrant and ready
to shine. And it's all going to be fine.

Little One

Little One, wilted, you were, weren't you?
And if you are a little bit honest
with yourself, you'll see
that you still are.

Yes, Little One, you've come so very far
but not even close to the
place you need to be. Demolish that frown.

Settle down and you may be okay.
Try to be fine, love.
Try to function.
That junction you are stuck at;
just drive across it like a mad woman.
Just go. Overthrow your fears and cares.

Threadbare, you're off on a journey, Little One.
You can do it;
I'm your star in the sky; I say you'll get through it.
Pick up your life, gather those rags,
the shards, the tiny pieces
that once comprised a day in the future.
Patch them back together, stitch them up with magic thread
and make a different kind of life instead.

One without me, a year less one season.
For some funny little reason, love,
you won't be able to think about summer
any more without thinking of me.
I'm sorry that has to be how it has to be.

You never liked it anyway, Little One.
You fainted in the heat; you couldn't cope,
but I hope you're able to now.
You know I would never allow this incredible moping.
Pull yourself together, Little One.
The things you regret are now already done.
You can't change the facts.
I know in your mind you want so much more
but we can't arrange any of that, any of this.

You miss me, my love.
I miss you as well and I want to tell you
that your life was a spark of my undying fire.
And if I were here now, I would
try to inspire some spark in you now.

Just make me this little vow, Little One.
Love me forever, but please don't dwell.
I know you're going through a unique kind of hell
but that's enough of all this.
Don't dismiss the life you have made.
Don't let my spark in the fire shudder and fade.

Little One, step out of this shade.
In a day, or more than a day, or many more days,
you will find a place.
Remember I waved a little flower in front of your face
to make you smile, wearing pink.
And when you think you're alone,
remember, love:
give yourself a bloody shove. Get back
outside and into the light.
I never taught you to give up on a fight.

And when that night closes in and
attacks.
Know that, while I can never come back,
I never even went at all.
I'm in your pictures on the wall and in your
hands and in the golden threads of your hair.
You're wrong when you say I'm not there, Little One.
I'm not done.
I'm still here. I'm around: it's true.
I'm your mum, Little One, and I'm still sat here, right next to you.

Lifesaver

He jumped in without thinking,
and a life was saved.
He's never been called "brave" but he is.
Walks everywhere,
A full head of hair,
Cuts his meat with a fork.
And he rescued me with a projector.

Yorkshire men are quiet,
of few words and fewer embraces
but when he burrowed beneath our
house and fathomed a fiver
from my ear, I didn't
even know about fear then.

His mother, father, brother
now daughter
the thought of his strong strong heart
persisting though,
keep on walking,
he has taught me about love.

A walking metaphor,
he told me that the reason for
his slap-dashery
was so she didn't slip back
under the net again. And in fact,
he is that river he leapt into.

Half-Whole

I brought you back with all the Christmas presents,
and I intended for it to be
an interruption to me and my routine
but you've sat and accompanied me
through my life, lately.

You do the dishes, pack the bins
and take them out.
You and I have nothing, any longer,
to argue about.

I have never felt more pride. Pride has battered
my care for threads and dust.
In the pale gray light of day, it's still us.
My brother, your sister,
Of course we cling on because we both miss her.

Love infintismal. Call and I'll
listen to you. Always. 

When you went away
to interview for your future, I was scared
you'd bolted.
Tears revolted
from the eyes that have seen you on the sofa
like a well-timed cup of tea.
You - without knowing - have comforted me.

He's a strong, slumbering, generous soul.
He's my brother. The only half that fits my .one half of a whole.

Yellow and Green

I saw you last night.

You wore faded green, an oversized jacket. And you came through

the door of my childhood home as if back from the shops.

I leapt on you. As if I knew, in my sleep, it might

be the last time.

And this was the first time I’ve felt happy in such a long time.  

Golden and feather-soft, your hair against my cheek.

I didn’t feel like crying, but to speak?

That might ruin it.

You looked at me, laughed and said something like “I know, love. I died.”

Such a ridiculous joke,

we chuckled together inside my faraway mind.

Like we were looking back on an old feud, or chatting about

a petty friend. We were above this. It didn’t have us nailed.

Suddenly co-conspirators in the grand mischief and trespass we were doing –

We had stepped over the real-life line to deride silly death.

Fooling everyone!

You lifted me -- this woman-girl -- like a baby.

When you barged through the threshold, the green wooden door,

you barged your clumsy way back to me; the way you used to be.

Not that body, or long absence, or those heavy heavy ashes.

This was not the greying memory of

my mother who thrashed out of my life too soon.

You wore green and the light through the window

meant a late summer evening. I smelled the hose pipe and heard the footsteps on the gravel.

Us in the midst of some glittering dust.

Just the two of us.

 Pale yellow and green;

Those were the pastel shades of my dream.