Posts tagged ‘loss’

May 19, 2015

Nine Realms: Helheim ‘Death & Hollows’






in the place of misery


of those who died happy. those who felt


the soft lover press on their last breath.




the crawling surface of gjoll


resembles rainfall


the way water seems


to reach up


to break from the moving weight. straining


to join the clearing air.




here. at the end of all


is the source of the wind


that changes life to fire and skeletons and ash.


sighs through the sweeping


changing wall of fog.




the breeze carries to the graves of grey souls


and hits on the doors of the living


like cold palms. like


the desperate man who only wants


to come home.


Helheim: ‘Death & Hollows’ 2/2 The Nine Realms- Poems and Writing.

November 20, 2014

The Nine Realms – Asgard: ‘Warriors and Ravens’

Asgard: ‘Warriors and Ravens’ 2/4′ The Nine Realms- Poems and Writing.


they never said

dying is travelling

a light-year in a second

completely alone,

in a sense you have never felt before

not in dreams or worship

or bleak nights.


I was part of the writhing mass

the storming spreading attack

part of the dance between me and that

man that other warrior that superior clan

I was part of that

company, closer than everything

and when I look back

his face was the face of my wife.


did he look away out of shame

for my weakness, shame

for his own life, shame

for how tenderly my body leaned to his blade.


here is the look of oil on water

like heaven’s reflection you can touch.

as a child I chased rainbows

made idols from glass refractions,

stooped in the road.


I see thickly, this space shimmers with moving light

violet edging faces I know

and I mourn my rainbow

revising memories of blood

the sun, fresh leaves, and sky,

pure darkness, and white light of ash

and I weep clear tears

laced with the pigments of the dead.


they never said it’s just like living,

seeing one colour

and searching for your own heartbeat.

and when you go it’s more like

everybody you’ve known is falling

away, leaving you to grieve in morbid hope that they

would not, that they would stay.


January 1, 2014

sad man

he told me


the man told me

she’s been rooerin

on the phone to her sister just fuckin rooerin

both fuckin rooerin

it’s fucked up man


then he starts talking something i can’t understand

and i feel this in my stomach, hard through like ice

but soft like life

and hot like life

and he’s talkin about the social, man

and anything else

samsara, man

and how it’s unfair,

and how it’s not unfair


and after i think about how it’s

unfair, man

not unfair

fucked up

and how i didn’t get the sad man

and how i didn’t know the sad man

and i told someone

and i told myself again


soon i’ll see the man

and i’ll see her

and it’ll all be so fucking sad, man,

we’ll smile and talk about last month.


© Lydia Allison 2013

December 1, 2013

Roses. Those strawberry dreams are no good.

Do you remember that teacher we had at school? He taught us Biology, had a real sweet tooth. Every example he gave us had something to do with food. Well, sweets. He said mitochondria were like liquorice torpedoes. Do you remember? Probably not, you always preferred the science of it. Well, mitochondria are like liquorice torpedoes – now you know.

Once, he was teaching us about haemoglobin, how it picks up as many oxygen particles as it can hold, and when there’s a lot, it drops some and picks more up. I think that’s what he said, only I don’t remember the science too well because he was talking about Quality Street. He said he loved Quality Street, and if the room were full of Quality Street, he’d be running around trying to pick up as many as possible, dropping them as he went along, filling his arms and pockets. I thought that sounded good, but I think he was trying to make a point about respiration.

Anyway, then he went on and talked about what happens when you get carbon monoxide poisoning, and it’s when your cells are trying to pick up what they should (like the ones with purple wrappers) but then they pick up a toffee coin instead. And it gets stuck between your teeth and then you can’t open your mouth so you end up dropping all the green triangles and the little bronze rectangles of fudge and everything.

Well I’ve been thinking about that loads. Because I’ve been trying to collect all the good stuff. But it feels like I’ve waited too long, and everyone else has had their hand in and taken everything, and when I think I’ve got something, it’s just another toffee coin cementing my jaw up and setting hard behind my teeth.

I need you to remind me. I’m stuck, dying, can’t move. Tell me a pink foil story because all I can remember is the fights. If I could move my lips to kiss you goodbye, you’d smell the rank sickly sweet of it; but I can’t, so I’ll leave you again, and again I’ll look for the bright ghostly crumples you might have left.

© Lydia Allison 2012

September 1, 2013



I see you and you look

like you, minus


stretched white framework

with part subtracted:

a fraction


every second you lose

more. I want

to gather it all

every memory split in half

every thought


glancing down I see

a wire mannequin

of what you used to be

unable to hold yourself

all bones


and I, all flesh

too weak to reach

to catch

every breath you free


©Lydia Allison

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