Suicide

Suicide

by Helen Barter

I once held a dead man's hand

and looked into his eye.

Deliberately.

His death was controlled powerful relief.

I held his hand and smiled as he left.

Deliberately.

Best Before Date

Best Before Date

by Helen Barter

'Thing' done,

Highly acclaimed.

Laid bare. On a plate

for others to feast from.

Step aside; 

others gorge 

on the 'all you can eat '

leftover buffet.

You have a life to live;

new things to say;

new ways to say them.

Elvis has not left the building.

Sent from my iPad

I Heard His Voice

This is my first attempt at Flash Fiction

I Heard His Voice  by Helen Barter

I heard his voice. 

I said, "Hang on. I'll buzz you in." 

I saw him standing in the lobby,  in a pristine white shirt. During the opening of the door he turned into my Father, my Mother already standing behind me. I tried to close the door.  I tried to turn the figure in white back into him. I would have given him my time.  I would've stopped what I was doing, but I didn't want to talk to my Father.

I was busy looking for something. I was late already,  going out to read some mediocre poetry to a group of mediocre poets. I couldn't decide whether to read 'Cupboard' or 'Mother', but couldn't find either. 

My Father followed me around the room asking questions I didn't know the answers to and things which I didn't want to think about. I felt foolish, impatient and cross, but disloyal for ignoring him and wishing he wasn't there. My Mother sat in a chair and began to cry. My Father walked across and stood behind her, his hands exerting downward pressure on her shoulders.

I found 'Cupboard' so stopped looking for 'Mother'.

'Mother' was in her lap. She picked it up and read it aloud, then screwed it into a tight ball.  I said she could keep it but she threw it at me. She stood up and walked towards to door, my Father followed her. 

They walked away, leaving me with 'Cupboard' and a pristine white shirt.

Somewhere

Somewhere

by Helen Barter

I could motivate you, 

with only imagination and

a bomb 

at my disposal. 

Over our rainbow 

red shoed legs protrude.

Reality flattened by

a technicolor proposal.

Impotence

Impotence

by Helen Barter

Expectant humiliation 

Of pointless, impotent waiting. 

Stood up and stupid.

Opportunities are not lost in the void of silence

they are strangled by their own umbilicus 

suffocated before birth.

The Story Ends

The Tale of the Wolf in Fire Monkey's Clothes,

the Rotten Core of the Princess' Heart 

and How the Story Ends

Mirror mirror, apple's heart,

Wolf in monkey's clothing.

Fear ignites her troubled soul

And singes hooded loathing.

Poison bleeds from rotten core,

Monkey's taste enflames.

All the better to eat her up

And spit out charred remains.

Shadows

Shadows

by Helen Barter

Will the dried yellowing heads 

issue seed for careful gathering, 

or simply emphasise your passion for 

thistledown flight.? 

Could you stamp on the brittle shadows 

beneath your feet, and tread their dust 

into a mulch, 

to replenish fertile strata, in readiness 

to plant your life's collection 

and still have time to watch it grow.

Or are you still the admiral, 

harbouring a desperate need to 

check and recheck your stock, 

whilst adding further to your hoard of exotic samples. 

Do the creeping shadows suffocate 

or embrace you?

Reading the Crow Road to Eden

Reading The Crow Road to Eden

by Helen Barter

Lascivious trespass of a self-indulgent thief;

the uninvited consequence of

walking a different road.

Stealing songs of solitude, 

and hungrily sucking foreign memories

into lachrymose loneliness.

Reading words of a forbidding God;

of pride in her presence and 

gladness for her voice.

Windfall apple feels fluttering moth of 

paper scrap, expelled 

from the tight security of folded, aching spine.

Languishing on the idly massaged fullness of her breast

are the words  "lidless pot".

Has Anybody Seen My Bed?

Has anybody seen my bed?

by Helen Barter

(With more than a passing nod to AA Milne)

I closed my eyes for only a minute,

Just to make sure I was really in it,

I think it's somewhere inside my head.

Hasn't anybody seen my bed?

Monkey

Monkey

by Helen Barter

Intense, all consuming emotion.

Naive outpouring, heart wrenching

declaration of undying passionate love 

with no real understanding 

or consideration for another.

Just overwhelming need.

Pitiful, painful crying out

passed through mother's milk.

Instinctively you feel concern for poor monkey.

His kindness was genuine and well-meant.

The angel didn't fall, was he was pushed.?

Breaking News

Breaking News

by Helen Barter

Mahout's dowry provides

just enough rope from the bottom drawer

to hang a five storey elephant.

White houdah, bearing passengers and players,

crashes to the ground.

We have received reports 

of minor injuries, but no fatalities.