a bevy of death poems (or would that be a murder?)

Death has been on my mind lately, given the recent events at my condominium complex. Then again, as a brooding poet, I have always been enamored with Death as a subject for poetic speculation. Here is a mix of new and old poems on the subject.


in the presence of death

the certain reaffirms life
they fuck or climb mountains
in defiance of the unfeeling body
that awaits them – they tingle
in the knowledge of their place
in this realm – they know
they are meant to be here
and fight to remain as long as possible

the questioning retreat to the bunker
they are most comfortable with
their books or electronic databases
of information – some even consult
the mysterious forces they believe
give a damn about the
corporal beings on this plane
they’re not looking for answers
since those would make them certain
instead they walk on the illusion
of a never-ending path

there is another group – uncertain, yet
unquestioning – who stops when Death arrives
and politely yields the way as they would
for the rushing ambulance or busy busboy

ltv
2/16/10



On the Death of a Catholic Friend

"I'm not afraid," she said despite
the monitors beeping in the night

The Universe -- blasé -- waited
as mortality dissipated
from the sterile human room

Consciousness lingered stately, stoic
as if dying, somehow, were heroic

Silently, her eyes fell closed
from habit as though in repose

lights and echoes down the hall
but, no -- no angels gently called
her home

ltv
9/9/96



Response from a Catholic Friend on Her Death

"I'm not afraid," I said
despite the monitors
beeping in the night

God is present
by my side
waiting for me
to finally decide

Humanity lingers
stubborn, defensive
as if dying, somehow,
were offensive

Silently, I chose to go
to a Universe
I didn't know

Angels came with
my release, but friends
couldn't see
how I found peace

ltv
10/12/06



A Dirge for the Living

At the point of my death
don’t cover my head
Don’t calmly recite:
“I’m sorry, she’s dead.”
Don’t stand in the morgue
for a teary good-bye
Don’t color my face
with lip and cheek dye

When my time has come
don’t bury me deep
Don’t pray to the Lord
my soul to keep
Don’t limit your wardrobe
don’t wear the veil
Don’t accessorize your anguish
with a heart-wrenching wail

When this body is broken
the life slipped away
when words go unspoken
at the end of my day

Don’t order me cut flowers
like lilies in white
Don’t hold vigil for hours
in votive candlelight

Don’t mourn future memories
Don’t weep for this shell
Don’t belittle my life
with “at least she died well.”

Don’t ask God for answers
‘cause he doesn’t know
why -- if you believe in Heaven
you’re sad when I go.

ltv
8/28/96



we accept
death as a job
similar to the ones
we suffer through
a necessity
to make ends meet

we fight death –
a nemesis to conquer
as it stalks victims
we try to stay
one step ahead

but it is neither
apathetic nor malicious
nor the wind that comes
ravaging in a storm

it is the Sun that rises
every day – not because
of some internal motion

but because of our
journey around it

Death itself is static

ltv
9/19/09



For Emily

Sir, please Kindly pass me by
For we have met before
I’ve seen you walking with my friends
or lingering -- at their door

We’ve sat together side-by-side
‘til one of us went home --
to tend to mundane tasks -- put-off
or to inhabit the Unknown

Now this -- Great Hall is bathed in light
the decorations stunning
music teases through the night
Your humble offer -- cunning

But, I’ll not be responding -- s’il vous plait
to your bold invite
you see, my card -- alas -- is full
I cannot dance tonight

ltv
6/27/96
7/26/96(R)



reaching into death
the living must be certain
about coming back

ltv
11/2/09



[untitled]

in the fog of pain
killers pumping
through my veins
I choke -- cough
up this tube

memories of college
drinking aftermaths
spew through my mind
but that was decades ago
and though my aged body
feels just as bad
aspirin won't fix this

I struggle without
the aid of pure oxygen

my father and I
when I was ten
watched fish that we caught
flop and gasp on the floor
of the rowboat he rented

I watched him die too
like my family
is watching me now
how can they do it -- well

it won't be long at least
already their voices and songs
are getting far away

and it feels better
not to breathe

ltv
8/14/08



after the moment

when machines
are turned off
family in a daze
makes their way
past the nurses’ station
an orderly
gently pulls IVs
from sluggish veins
then squeezes a soapy
sponge one last time
before caressing
each part of the body

ltv
5/24/09



The limerick’s no medium for dying
but that won’t stop me from trying
for while it’s grim compose
about the final repose
it’s certainly more fun than crying.

ltv
5/3/00

Death and the Poet

Forgive me, I am a little sleep deprived (but not overly so). I got to bed late last night (1.00 am, which is late for me now that I am 40). At about 2.00 am I was awakened by the loud rumbling of the fire engine and the ambulance. I looked out my window and saw two police vehicles as well, respectfully NOT flashing their lights within my condominium complex. I knew immediately why they were here. My next door neighbor has had a myriad of health issues ever since I have known her. Diabetes, dialysis, on oxygen, a catheter in her leg to better facilitate the dialysis three times per week. She was also deaf in one ear (prompting an ongoing, though cordial, feud between us when her TV got so loud I couldn't concentrate on watching my own TV.) Every time I called her to turn down her TV (which wasn't all that often, since I empathized with her situation) she was pleasant and immediately complied. She would sometimes call me to fix her TV or if she was having strange medical symptoms and just wanted someone else to be with her. She got confused a lot. Sometimes, I would come over simply to remind her to call her doctor or her PCA. I have no medical training. There was nothing I could do to help other than be there and let her know that everything was going to be okay.

Last summer her leg cath bled out so badly, the carpet in her living room had to be replaced. She spent many weeks in a nursing home and I cared for her cat, Twinkie, while she was away. It always bothered me that her doctors or family or the health insurance conglomerate couldn't see that she needed to be in a watched situation. A nursing home, living with family, something. She forgot to eat sometimes (which for a diabetic can be fatal). Apparently she was too sick to be home alone, yet not sick enough to be permanently assigned to a nursing home. I can't help but wonder what role the health insurance companies played in this ridiculous situation she was in.

Last night, her leg cath bled out again. The EMS techs believe she had a heart attack prior to bleeding out and was dead on the scene. Is it odd that my first concern, while up at 2.30 am in the freezing cold talking to the police was "what will happen to her cat?" She loved that cat. That poor thing (skittish as she is) was hiding somewhere in the condo, but I wasn't allowed to go in to try and find her because there was too much blood and it wasn't safe. Far be it from me, to WANT to walk into what essentially seemed like a scene from one of the CSI or Law and Order shows, but I also had visions of this long-haired cat traipsing through her owner's blood-soaked sheets trying to find her. Fortunately, my neighbor's daughter was able to retrieve the cat this morning.

My dark side tried to cheer me up by reassuring me that at least I won't have to deal with the overly loud TV anymore. My good side immediately felt the need to do many forms of penance for that thought. Here is a poem in her honor.


On the Death of an Infirm yet Cheerful Neighbor

when late at night the alarm sounded
she touched her troubled leg
confounded by the blood

memories of summer’s infirmary
struck her brain first like lightening
frightening her into panic

her heart was shocked
too much to handle
it stopped to let the blood flow out

the relief of her life fading fast
perhaps she briefly raged against
the dying of the light - if only

for her beloved feline companion --
resigned by her owner’s waning energy
she hid when the trucks arrived for the body

ltv
2/15/2010

a couple of bitter winter poems

storm heart

wind-chilled
biting the flesh
desperate to get away
or protect itself

the sun – so far away –
offers no assistance
only the image
remains in the sky

breezes chop at
confidence – shavings
of self-esteem fall
clumping to the ground

this force is unseen
but powerful
gravity without
the certainty

unable to lift up
against it – plowing
through life
hitting obstacle

after obstacle
realizing the ice
has kept you
spinning in stagnation

ltv
2/5/10


wandering hermit

selfishly nomadic
wanting something
new -- different
better than a haircut
bigger than a car
a change of locus
foolishly believing
the mind is a roommate
of my body

forgetting about
different planes
of existence -- perhaps
a defense mechanism
so that its true home
won’t be discovered

if the consciousness of the flesh
gets too close
we move – shift again
to spend our waking thoughts
on boxes and forms
instead of the anomalous pain
so well-protected in this
make-believe fortress

ltv
2/10/10

Thoughts on my sister

My baby sister turns 33 this week. I visited her this weekend for a family birthday dinner at her house. Her husband's parents and siblings were there along with our mother and step-father. No major family dramas (in fact one past drama was actually made better by something that happened -- no need to go further into that). I was looking forward to hanging out with her after everyone left. It seems, now that we are both adults, we rarely have time for that anymore. I think she also feels the same and when it was discovered that someone needed to run to the store to pick up something before everyone arrived, her husband (one of my favorite people in the world, a very good husband to my sister) suggested that the two of us go out while he stayed home with their son.

We drove the short distance to the store and gave brief updates on our lives. The shopping list was small: birthday candles, cake-writing icing, and firewood. We knew our time was limited and quickly retrieved the first two items on the list. The last item remained elusive, however. What happened next is exactly why I miss hanging out with my sister.

She dared me to ask a male cashier if he had wood. She didn't just suggest it would be funny, she reveled in the idea of it (which I admit, was contagious). It took a while for this 40 year old to stop giggling at the prospect of the question before we got into line. And, as a birthday gift to her, I looked the 17 year old male cashier in the eye and we had the following exchange:

me: "Excuse me. Do you have wood?"

male cashier (with a deer-in-the-headlights look on his face): "What?"

me: "Do you have wood?" (at which point my sister interjected with "firewood")

cashier: "Oh, yes. I think it's over there."

After I procured the firewood and went through the checkout process, the cashier said: "So, what are you two doing this weekend?"

Perhaps he was trying to be polite. Clearly he didn't see my sister's six-months' pregnant belly. I also like to think he didn't realize I was 40, but I certainly know I didn't look young enough to be the subject of a come-on from a 17 year old. I revealed it was my sister's birthday and we wished him a fun weekend.

My sister and I stifled laughter all the way out of the store and guffawed when we reached her car. "Totally worth it!" we both agreed.


Later that night, after my nephew was in bed and the relatives were long gone, my sister, her husband and I played a favorite board game and continued our goofing around. Cracking jokes, blocking each others' moves and doing the things that sisters and friends enjoy. I only live just over two hours away, but that seems too far. And, as is always the case when I visit them, I am reconsidering my decision to remain here in the Happy Valley.

Side note on my nephew: I just received a phone call from my brother-in-law. James woke up from his afternoon nap and asked his Dad to take him downstairs so he could play with Auntie. Of course, after Ben broke the bad news to James, he quickly said "I want to play with cars." It's good to know that he wasn't completely broken up by my absence.