Poetry of Loss – Page 3 – As It Ought To Be

Ed Ahern: “Gloria Mundi”

Posted on October 11, 2023 by asitoughttobemagazine

Gloria Mundi

I am in title his executor,
de facto the chief mourner.
He lived his adult life alone
but did die with company-
a hired tender and me.

A man who admitted
to fallibility but rarely
to vices or wrongdoing,
a man so private that I
read his past in his papers.

I buried and eulogized him
and marshalled all the wealth
he’d been reluctant to spend,
hard earned but not enjoyed,
for distribution to strangers.

I was perhaps his closest friend
and huckster for the indulgences
I wanted him to give himself,
but now must strew his measure
to the unknowing and the greedy.

About the Author: Ed Ahern resumed writing after forty odd years in foreign intelligence and international sales. He’s had over four hundred fifty stories and poems published so far, and eight books. Ed works the other side of writing at Bewildering Stories, where he sits on the review board and manages a posse of eight review editors.

Image Credit: Charles Aubrey “Flower Still Life” Public domain image courtesy of the Getty Open Content Program.

Michael G. O’Connell: “On the Loss of a Daughter”

Posted on September 13, 2023 by asitoughttobemagazine


On the Loss of a Daughter	

It is summer.
The creek works its way through the world 
carefully,
lazily,
thoughtlessly.
It slices through fields and forests,
in sunshine and dark places,
and though dark,
is still painted by the sun
slowly, mostly,
yet still towards that bigger place it has to go.

Creeks become streams.
Streams, rivers.
Rivers, lakes,
and, ultimately, all become lost in the sea, 
but, do they really?

Does the creek that moves through this world, 
gathering bits and pieces of the earth—
rocks, wood, and sometimes even sky—
does that creek truly become lost in the ocean? 
Or is it part of that ocean? 
Something else? 

Sometimes the creek travels alone 
until it reaches the end.
Others mix and mingle 
and split and reinvent themselves along the way—
encountering rocks, fallen trees, and dams, 
and still, it is able to reclaim itself.

It is summer.
Sunlight dances on waves.
Children play in shallows—
splashing, digging, lazing, 
fighting.

The sun shines 
warming all it touches 
sending reddened visitors back into the ocean 
where just below the surface lies cooling waters
and things that bite and sting.

The sun shines.
Waters warm
until they rise on cobbled wings
and fly.
And
ultimately 
fall

back

About the Author: Michael G. O’Connell is an author, illustrator, and an award-winning poet. Having been published in various formats worldwide, his latest work can be found in the poetry anthology, Moss Gossamer. He is currently working on an illustrated middle grade book.

Image Credit: Marie Egner “Children by a Mountain Creek” Public domain image courtesy of Artvee

Yvonne Morris: “Floodlight”

Posted on March 20, 2023 by asitoughttobemagazine

Floodlight

The moon’s blank tambourine
amplifies the drizzle’s guitar—

fragile droplets bruised become
sunlit wires of rain. The rising

world finds ruined fountains,
broken stonework converted

to carry running streams.
The wounded sleep to dream

again, when the day’s pain
assembles then disbands.

Loss stretches forward
to its instruments, unpacks

the stars, unravels the tide.
Morning pools the night.

About the Author: Yvonne Morris lives and works in a small town in Kentucky. Her most recent chapbook is Busy Being Eve (Bass Clef Books, 2022). Her work has appeared in The Galway Review, The Santa Clara Review, Cathexis Northwest Press, The Wild Roof Journal, The Write Launch, and elsewhere.

Image Credit: Edvard Munch “White Night” (1890) Public domain image courtesy of Artvee

Agnes Vojta: “The Pope Coffin”

Posted on March 10, 2023 by Chase Dimock

The Pope Coffin

I do not know whether dad
believed in heaven.
He had a sense for the sacred.
Sometimes all you see is the fruit;
the root remains secret.

My father never discussed death,
except to say he wanted a coffin
like Pope John Paul II: clear
lines, no frivolous embellishments –
an architect’s choice.

The minister spoke about the city-to-come,
solemn and hopeful, consoling
without the saccharine promises
dad would have hated. One must leave
space for uncertainty.

About the Author: Agnes Vojta grew up in Germany and now lives in Rolla, Missouri where she teaches physics at Missouri S&T and hikes the Ozarks. She is the author of Porous Land, The Eden of Perhaps, and A Coracle for Dreams, all published by Spartan Press. Most recently, she has been collaborating with eight other poets on the book Wild Muse: Ozarks Nature Poetry (Cornerpost Press, 2022.) Her poems have appeared in a variety of magazines; you can read some of them on her website agnesvojta.com.

Image Credit: Jules-Edmond-Charles Lachaise “Design for a ceiling with trompe l’oeil balustrade and sky” Public domain image courtesy of Artvee

Agnes Vojta: “The Topography of Grief”

Posted on January 30, 2023January 30, 2023 by asitoughttobemagazine

The Topography of Grief

The topography of grief is karst,
riddled with sinkholes
that suddenly open
under your feet, swallow you whole.

I don’t know what I expected
to feel. Not this emptiness.
Not nothing. I don’t cry
at the sight of my dad’s signature.

The letter from probate court
I’ve been expecting. I know
what it contains: a form letter
and a copy of dad’s will.

I cry when I pack his chessboard,
lay the wooden pieces to rest
in their velvet-lined compartments,
close the box, latch the lid.

About the Author: Agnes Vojta grew up in Germany and now lives in Rolla, Missouri where she teaches physics at Missouri S&T and hikes the Ozarks. She is the author of Porous Land, The Eden of Perhaps, and A Coracle for Dreams, all published by Spartan Press. Most recently, she has been collaborating with eight other poets on the book Wild Muse: Ozarks Nature Poetry (Cornerpost Press, 2022.) Her poems have appeared in a variety of magazines; you can read some of them on her website agnesvojta.com.

Image Credit: Chase Dimock “Utah Karst” (2021)

Troy Schoultz: “Abbotsford Cemetery”

Posted on April 22, 2022April 22, 2022 by asitoughttobemagazine

About the Author: Troy Schoultz is a lifelong Wisconsin resident. His poems, stories, and reviews have appeared in Seattle Review, Rattle, Slipstream, Chiron Review, Fish Drum, Santa Monica Review, Steel Toe Review, Midwestern Gothic, Palooka and many others in the U.S. and U.K. since 1997. He is the author of two chapbooks and three full-length collections. His interests and influences include rock and roll, vinyl LPs, found objects, the paranormal, abandoned places, folklore, old cemeteries, and the number five. He hosts and produces S’kosh: The Oshkosh Podcast. For more information check out https://troyschoultz.wixsite.com/website

Image Credit: Chase Dimock “Crow on a Fence” (2021)

Susan Cossette: “The Persistence of Memory”

Posted on February 7, 2022February 7, 2022 by asitoughttobemagazine

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The Persistence of Memory

If novelists die before they finish their stories
whole worlds evaporate.
Snowy trees at grey solstice sunset,
bare branches twisted with awful secrets.
Sad lines of cars inch home,
tiny ants high over the I-394 overpass.
Each with its own self-contained history.

Twenty or so mourners, some in person,
others on webcam, gather for a pandemic-age wake.
Families open Christmas presents
in front of the TV Yule log instead of a fireplace.
Everyone stops existing.

I am not afraid
because I write poetry
and once I finish a poem it is done.
The next one is a zygote in my mental ovaries
that hasn’t found a sperm cell to coax it to life.

Left behind like overripe cheese,
or ice cream melting in the sun.

About the Author: Susan Cossette lives and writes in Minneapolis, Minnesota. The Author of Peggy Sue Messed Up, she is a recipient of the University of Connecticut’s Wallace Stevens Poetry Prize. A two-time Pushcart Prize nominee, her work has appeared or is forthcoming in Rust and Moth, Vita Brevis, ONE ART, As it Ought to Be,Anti-Heroin Chic, The Amethyst Review, Crow & Cross Keys, Loch Raven Review, and in the anthologies Fast Fallen Women (Woodhall Press) Tuesdays at Curley’s (Yuganta Press),and After the Equinox.

More by Susan Cossette:

She Waits Behind the Drapes

Image Credit: Marjory Collins “Washington, D.C. Salvage drive, Victory Program. Books and old lantern stored in District wholesale junk company warehouse” (1942) The Library of Congress. Public Domain

Laura Grace Weldon: “Butternut Ridge Cemetery”

Posted on January 26, 2022 by asitoughttobemagazine

Butternut Ridge Cemetery

From the back seat my six-year-old asks
about the grandfather who died
when she was four months in the womb.
She wants to know about his favorite color
and what he likes to eat, correcting herself
to say “liked” to eat. She wants to know
what being dead means, for real.

I know children ask full force till
they get what they need, like the time
my oldest asked why people have skin
darker than his, and seconds into
my big-wattage answer
interrupted to ask
why faucets turn “this way”
twisting his hand, “to make it hot.”

But she doesn’t stop asking
and since we’re driving past
the cemetery that minute, I pull in.
She skips around his gravestone
as if in a park, touching dusty
pebbles and leggy buttercups, before
announcing to air and ground
and everything between,
“I’m sorry you’re dead Grandpa.
You would have loved me.”

About the Author: Laura Grace Weldon has published three poetry collections: Portals (Middle Creek 2021), Blackbird (Grayson 2019), and Tending (Aldrich 2013). She was named 2019 Ohio Poet of the Year. Laura works as a book editor, teaches writing, and maxes out her library card each week. lauragraceweldon.com

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Image Credit: Chase Dimock “Small Sunflower” (2021)

John Dorsey: “Walt Disney and Richard Branson Will Meet Again at Freedom Mausoleum”

Posted on October 13, 2021 by asitoughttobemagazine

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Walt Disney and Richard Branson Will Meet Again at Freedom Mausoleum

past lives are all we have here
the grass kept green for golf tees
& billionaires in a space race with mortality

smoke coming from burning buildings of the dead
& the stained glass ears of a technicolor mouse
who makes us all feel safe.

About the Author: John Dorsey lived for several years in Toledo, Ohio. He is the author of several collections of poetry, including Teaching the Dead to Sing: The Outlaw’s Prayer (Rose of Sharon Press, 2006), Sodomy is a City in New Jersey (American Mettle Books, 2010), Tombstone Factory, (Epic Rites Press, 2013), Appalachian Frankenstein (GTK Press, 2015) Being the Fire (Tangerine Press, 2016) and Shoot the Messenger (Red Flag Poetry, 2017),Your Daughter’s Country (Blue Horse Press, 2019), and Which Way to the River: Selected Poems 2016-2020 (OAC Books, 2020). His work has been nominated for the Pushcart Prize, Best of the Net, and the Stanley Hanks Memorial Poetry Prize. He was the winner of the 2019 Terri Award given out at the Poetry Rendezvous. He may be reached at archerevans@yahoo.com.

More By John Dorsey:

Anthony Bourdain Crosses the River of the Dead

Punk Rock at 45

Perpetual Motion

Image Credit: John Margolies “Mouse hole, Mauro’s mini golf, Hazel Park, Michigan” (1986) The Library of Congress