Mesmerizing Stormy Sea


Silent waves bit hard,
Sucking mouthfuls of the shore,
Swallowing them deep,
Filling trenches, valleys,
Abysms and abyss.

Seen from above, the land withdrew,
Tasting moments of
Destruction, devastation, death.

White capped flowing mountains of sea
Rolled in with military precision
For the next bite,
Relentless, righteous, ruthless.

A scene powerful beyond power,
Sucked me in, drew me down,
Mesmerized, I dropped

A distant call tugged at me,
‘You can pull up now,
Eagle chopper three,
Flip, fly free!’

Words heard dimly through static,
Like fine drops of mist,
Drizzling, drenching, yet dry.

Events below pulled stronger
Than far away words
Softly spluttering sibilance.

Water sprayed across the screen,
A splash of force,
A splatter of gunfire,
A warning shot,
The rotor still spun
As I looked up,
White fingers flickered,
Nails crested
As the next rolling wave
Horrendously heightened, hungrily

Reaching for the shore,
It was oblivious of my perspex bubble,
“Wait!” I cried, yet darkness
Washed my whirling world.

Released from my reverie,
I floated once more,
Watching as wreckage poked through water,
Body spun in currents,
Dragged, disabled, dying.

A warm hand touched my shoulder,
I turned,
A bright light shone,
Feeling feeble, I followed.


© Copyright 2016 Robin McShane


A Nursing Moment – Dying

There are times when watching life expire
Becomes an experience to behold,
Opening the portal to another world
So different from ours, I am told.

Through this feeling of utter peace,
From a place beyond our knowing,
We are drawn a little away from here,
Maybe tasting the moment of our going?

A short distance down the path we’ll walk,
With our patient in the bed,
Standing by for whatever their need,
As soon as their name is read.

Then their life leaves, sometimes a smile or a grin,
Sometimes a fight and a kick,
Either way, the final’s not long,
As the soul uses carrot or stick.

And we are released back to the world,
A sigh, a slow outflow of breath,
Tears start to fall from the loved ones behind,
Who stayed watching, now suddenly bereft.

We quietly withdraw for a time,
Respecting the need for solitude,
Each to their own way to grieve.

Depending on the person’s faith,
Family requests,
Hospital protocol,
(deep breath),
We return to lay out the body,
Just the body,
The soul is gone,
You can feel the shell is empty.

With gentle respect, we remove the tubes
That were helping to sustain the life,
Wash the body,
Wrap it ready for the undertakers,
Or the keepers.

A bell rings,
Both a toll for the departed
And a call to action,
Mr Smith, in room 4 is calling,
Probably needs a bottle again,
Ah well, back to work…


Copyright 2015 Robin McShane

Meeting Beelzebub – #1

meeting beelzebub 2 - june 5 2015 - morguefile

Beelzebub came to meet me in Cherry Lane,
Lined with Honey Blossoms and Jakarandas,
Flowers blooming.

I stood my ground, wondering what he could want,
It was simple, as it always is,
He wanted me.

My soul and I, waiting on his move, watched closely,
Fretting on past deeds, thoughts and feelings,
Quickly, my life passed before me.

Unexpectedly, after all, it was just an afternoon’s stroll,
I grasped my chest, fell to my knees,
Pain ringing through.

He grunted, smiled, flicked his flagrant tail, tossed his head,
Finger beckoning, he grinned,
“Yes, you have sinned!”

A horn sounded, loud, clear, pure, from above resounded,
Angels appeared, with winged chariots,
What a movie!

Beelzebub took a step back, watching warily,
A shining Angel with golden wings flew down,
“Where has he sinned? “

Beelzebub shifted uncomfortably, tail still,
“Well, you can’t blame me for trying,
He almost agreed.”

“We can, we do and he didn’t. Begone! ”
Beelzebub snickered, flickered and left,
” Come with us.”
“You bet! “


© Copyright 2015 Robin McShane

To explain: I wrote the last three days poems several weeks ago. The above was the first, which led to the second (posted yesterday) and then the idea to make that into a villanelle (posted on Thursday). All written one after the other, within a few hours. then left to brew, then edited and edited… and edited! I decided to try a villanelle as I haven’t written to a ‘classical’ style for a while, and felt to challenge myself (!) to try a tight form again! Not sure if it was a good idea to try and adapt or whether I should have written from scratch? Any ideas?

Don’t you find the creative process just fascinating? I love to see how we are all inspired differently, express ourselves individually and write uniquely!

1. I would love to hear your comments on these, and the process they took; and
2. Anyone care to share your creative process? What sparks your ideas and how do you get to a final product?
Please share, I am so intrigued by this process and how we are all so different….

For myself, my process varies – from idea to paper within a short period (sometimes with only a little editing) to poems, prose and music composed many moons ago (some many years!), then brought out, dusted off, twisted, tweaked and, sometimes, terminated! 🙂 Ideas just enter my head – sometimes the first few words and sometimes the first few lines – I very rarely see something and think to write a poem! My brain works more with words, thoughts, principles and sounds more than pictures, smell, taste, touch, etc….and yours?

Wishing you all a magical weekend…:)

More Wayward Ramblings on Death and Dying

Another page is up on ‘Wayward Ramblings’ – More Ramblings on Death and Dying….

Back to poetry on Tuesday I promise!! 🙂

I am often perplexed by the many different perspectives surrounding death and dying.

Do we ‘move on’? Do we go to a ‘better place’?

Or do the electrical impulses and chemicals coursing through our body simply slow down, recede, stop…and that’s it. The end!?

….read more…

Fish and Chips Please

Please bring me fish and chips,
On a day it doesn’t rain,
So I can see your face once more,
Share time with you again.

Don’t matter if it’s cod or hake,
Nor chips be cold and soggy,
Don’t matter if you know my name,
I’ll still feel sick and soppy.

A feeling from my past, you see,
How I used to long for you,
Yet hang my head in shame,
When you came into view.

Funny, now, to miss you so,
‘Membering furtive glances deep,
Hidden with so much meaning,
At least I’d like to think!

I still see your dimples
Raising lips above your teeth,
Your braces shining brightly,
Stainless steel beauty bequeath.

Stolen smiles and touches brief,
Young love in the making,
Until one day you moved away,
My heart and smile a-taking.

I lie here now, all old and frail,
My body near it’s end,
Then you come through the swinging doors,
All lightness, brightness, friend.

So, fish and chips will nicely do,
Bring back the times we shared,
Surrounded by nostalgic mist,
I’ll follow you anywhere.

Into the dark, into the light,
Wherever love will lead us,
We’ll hold our hands and raise a smile
And dare the world impede us!


© Copyright November 2014 – Robin McShane

I Have Moved On

Starlight beckons,
Calls me home,
To places where I’m free to roam,
Glistening through dimensions deep,
Places visited before, in sleep,
Now drive me forward
To another day,
A different thought,
A different way,
Framed castles keep
From widows weep
By distance, not in measured pace,
But thought – a different kind of place,
Wide difference, poles apart,
Separating mind and heart,
Leaving naught but silent space,
Where once my heartbeat ran it’s race,
When stone cold dead I fell to earth,
One more light from heaven’s birth,
An empty hole now left behind,
A meteroic light so blind,
Man could not see,
Nor take the speed,
Of stars own twinkle dying need.

I have moved on.

© Robin McShane
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