When The Hauntings Began

A poem about new beginnings.

“When The Hauntings Began”

his hair is

perfectly combed

And grey.

His Thick Black

eyeglasses Magnify

his olive green eyes.

His Narrow Face Is

Freshly Shaved.

 

He’s sitting upright

With a bare chest.

His chest is very

Muscular for a man

In his seventies.

 

His posture is rigid,

His chest is tight.

His mouth is

Wide open

As drool Hangs Down.

 

He is struggling

To breathe.

Each breath

Is more and more

Labored.

 

As we gather

Around to

Be with him

To support him

And show him

How much

We love him.

 

His three children are

Surrounding his bed,

As well as his mother.

Then of course

My boyfriend and

I are present too.

 

Everyone is

Telling him they

Love him

And being

As encouraging

As they can be,

But I’m quiet

As I can be.

 

My cousin

Requested

My presence

For her own

Moral Support.

 

But my Uncle

Hated me.

My cousin

Swears that

Isn’t true.

She says “He is like

A father to you;

He’s always loved you.”

 

I feel so bad

For being there.

What if my presence

Is making his

Final moments worse?

 

His breath has

Become shorter

And shorter.

His eyes are

As wide as

They can be!

 

You can hear

A gurgle Sound in

His lungs,

As they slowly

Fill with fluid.

He’s drowning

In his own fluid.

 

Suddenly he arches

His back slightly

And he stiffens his

Body more than before.

 

The last time I saw

Him he was kicking

Me out of his house

For taking a hammer

To his front door.

I was really just

Taking the Hammer

To my car.

 

 

Now I’m standing at the

Foot of the bed

Watching him die.

He’s looking

Directly at me.

I suddenly really

Want to run

As Fast as I

Can out

of the room.

 

He makes this

Moaning sound

As he stretches

Out his arm

And points his

Finger at me

And yells out

B***h!

 

Then he

Takes his last

Breath

And dies.

 

That’s when

The hauntings

Began.

Author's Note

The ending of life is as mysterious and new as the beginning.

Reviews

[Pax Analog]

Ha, what a dry sense of humor the moment of death can render.

Here the old fart is dying and he's still chasing your a*s out of the house for once hammering on his door. Droll. One wonders if he does then hammer at the gates for St. Peter, or some such.

I think the way you frame death is tonic. I don't see any reason to be morbid about something that happens to all of us (probably many times, reincarnationally) and happens all the time. I remember delivering a eulogy at the funeral of a fallen comrade (motorcycle crash). A strange context to deliver inspiration, but I did. I looked at his body and knew he wasn't there, that a dead body is not a dead soul. So I spoke of his spirit, was spontaneously a kind of lay priest (the official Catholic one in attendance called me a good man), and marveled at the spirit of affirmation arising on a ritual occasion of mourning.

Indeed, "the ending of life is as mysterious and new as the beginning." In a strange way, holding on to that sense of mystery is a deepening mode of information.

Being mystic is to develop a knack for deepening and widening this essential sensibility.

"If I had a hammer/I'd hammer on my uncle's damn door. . ." "OUT, B***H!"

Hilarious black comedy, actually. Such is life.

O then we get some hauntings! I almost forgot! Hmmm, presto yer counter-haunt mojo! Hammer time!

[Angie Diane♥&hea..]

This was really sad and it really makes me feel like I want to cry. I don't believe that someone would do that to you. I don't think someone you love would really be like that towards you. I think he loved you with all his heart...he was just angry...and the anger made him say that last line. I hope this really never happened, but I really liked this poem as well....
It was mysterious in my opinion to. Thanks for sharing. :)

[Lyr J. Thirsk]

astounding. not frightening. insane though. very. construcuted so well. -- why did he hate you so much?

[Bee]

Congratulations for winning. I couldn't imagine an angry soul following me around, haunting me, and even not letting me sleep at night because he's right beside me. I would die of heart attack. Thanks for sharing.

[Alicia Schroeder]

freaky, but nicely written, i enjoyed reading.

[dangerbooze]

Oh ouch. Although I can name a few people who'd point and yell "b***h" at me before dying. Most likely, they'd have a good reason why. I like your poems because majority of the time, the title is in it somewhere. Mine are just whatever comes off the top of my head. I like this one.

[the-One-with-the-Darkne..]

I wwant to know what happpens next! lol very good i can see it in my head!

[Black Cat Fever]

A very dramatic and very effective write. I can see how this scene ends and the haunting begins. This has a rather frightening air about it, watching someone die then having them say that to you. Chilling!

[Miss Coral]

Really interesting last bit- love how you tied the title into the last bit.

I would recommend perhaps broadening the word choice a bit, but otherwise, this was really good- simple and concise at its best. I would also think about perhaps changing the structure and/or text color and font. I thought they were somewhat distracting, and took away from the piece.

Overall, nice piece. c:
-Coral-

[R E Tree]

Wow you describe a sad scene of him suffering in bed. I would hate to watch someone I love go through all that. I was surprised of how much you hated your uncle. And to call someone a b***h what a way to react before death. Most people want to die peacefully. I think your uncle should have thanked you for being there. At least you was there and not somewhere else.

[Mauricio Montoya]

Something different, but cool, you’ve done a great job with this piece.
Excellent write.