dverse · poetry · remembrance · Uncategorized

d’Verse — Confessional

skull light

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Anmol is our host of d’Verse this evening.  He has challenged us with:

So, the Poetics challenge today is to write a confessional verse in the style of any of these poets or write something which plays with the ideas expressed here — to put your regrets, your guilts, your sins, your humanity, your lived experiences, and all that you have kept within, out there through unbridled frankness or hyperbole or hidden allusions and metaphors or in any which way you want. It is all about challenging the restrictions that we impose in our written expression and to share something which is depictive of our own self.

This is about my parents.  My dad passed over two decades ago.  My mother is alive.


For decades,

I have visited him

in my sleep;

the first two



In the old house

in the basement

only a presence

cold and dark.

Chattering teeth,

stark terror

one step down

after the other.


That he’s left

home is a good sign.

I see him.

We talk.


He talks, I listen.


He tells me things;

nothing of import,

but he’s talking,

and I’m not chattering

or afraid.

There is no fanfare

upon our parting.


I try not to dwell


will she keep

her promise to

visit me?

Death’s head


lit by an

unholy light.

There will be

no truce —

and eternity

goes on…

42 thoughts on “d’Verse — Confessional

    1. ❤ Great. Sorry they dropped me but glad you realized it and refollowed. I wanted to say I've been busy and not able to keep up with your and the word of the day prompt. Hoping to get back in the saddle soon.

      Liked by 1 person

        1. I haven’t been with WP long enough to know what makes the programming do what it does. There was no reason for your comments to go into the spam box, but they did, but it was only your email that set things in motion to find a total of 50 messages in the spam folder. Wishing I knew more about it.


  1. My sister died many years back – she and I had a love/hate relationship. One day, I was talking about her (negative) and a plate she had given me flew across the room – her wrath from the grave. Your poem reminded me of this.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. I’m relieved that when I dream of my mum it’s always in the days before she got dementia – I couldn’t bear to see her like that again. You’ve captured the nightmarish atmosphere so well in the second stanza, Jade.

    Liked by 1 person

  3. Very brave and powerful writing. When my father visits, I like to think he is checking in on me. He believed in more opportunities after his body’s death; I don’t, but I don’t mind that we sometimes visit in my dreams (my grandmother and various cats from across the years also visit.) When the time comes, may you have the presence to tell your mother that she’s not welcome and needn’t come back.

    Liked by 1 person

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