These Little Poems of Death and After Life

By Robert Joseph Foley

These startling narratives investigate with stunning insight the impact of death on the lives of ordinary people. In Remembrance an accidental couple copes with the suicide of their brilliant son; in The Visitation, two young brothers confront the mystery of a grandfather who has suddenly left their lives; Rowena, in Doppelganger, faces a ghostly presence who guides her toward the euthanasia of her only child; in Setting It Right an elderly couple wrestles with the specter of revenge after their life savings have been embezzled; in The Rape a man confronts a childhood memory that leads to an act of brutal violence.

In this startling collection of poems, Robert Joseph Foley, explores our reactions to life and its inevitable consequences, at turns tragic and horrifying; at turns mordantly humorous, and offers the hope of reconciliation and peace after a fitful journey.

By The same Author of:

The Consequences of Playing God

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Dec 17, 2010
• ISBN: 9781456815424

Robert Joseph Foley

Robert Foley is a retired teacher of English and Drama. He has directed close to 150 plays in the New York area and lives with his wife of 44 years in Westchester County. Writing has always been an intrigue for him; since retirement, it has become a passion. These Little Poems of Life and after Life is his first foray into publishing a poetry collection. He is currently working toward production of two completed plays and working on a short story collection which will appear under the collective title, The Consequences of Playing God.

Book preview

Copyright © 2010 by Robert Joseph Foley.

Library of Congress Control Number:   2010917362

ISBN: Hardcover    978-1-4568-1541-7

ISBN: Softcover      978-1-4568-1540-0

ISBN: Ebook            978-1-4568-1542-4

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

These poems and the characters therein are creations of fiction. Any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidence.

This book was printed in the United States of America.

To order additional copies of this book, contact:

Xlibris Corporation

1-888-795-4274

www.Xlibris.com

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89327

for

Andrew, David, Sara, Matthew and Daniel

CONTENTS

Etiology

A Lyrical Introduction to Some Narratives of What May Come

When Senses Falter at Impending Death

The Visitation

The Rape

Where?

The Threshold

Setting It Right

Remembrance

Doppelgänger

The Days of Romeo Are over

On the Death of a Former Friend

the anteroom

Six Quatrains to a Final Peace

Etiology

Oh, fool the man who will not challenge death

Or at the least emit an angry cry,

Lamenting fate on ending circumstance

When sensing that his reign on earth must close.

How others laugh, slough off, or spurn their pose

At journey’s end has scant concern for me.

Bark scarred with letters gouged into a tree

Feels deepest pain in winter’s final blast.

Truth tell, my range of rage has grown so vast

That passing thoughts consumed with life’s debris

Conspire to throttle pleasantry in dust

And leave deep scarring of what might have been.

But these are matters for another din;

For now, these creatures met along the road,

Imagined some, some real, spin narratives

That share with mine the specter of last breath.

Their storm-swept souls exposed confronting death

Are offered here to help their brothers cope,

To give them strength when on their final trip,

One way without the prospect of return.

May each of you who craves a little turn

With one who hovers at the precipice

Unearth herein a voice that speaks your soul

And brings you pause to mull the life that’s left.

For none should slink alone forlorn bereft

Without the solace that life’s bitter pills

Should all be swallowed with a common draught

That makes it easier to share the pain.

ornaments.tif

A Lyrical Introduction to Some Narratives

of What May Come

When Senses Falter at Impending Death

Thank God I have my faculties!

When cusping at advancing age

And salad days have passed to tea and cake,

While other poet counts the ways,

I’d rather just enumerate decays.

      wrinkled skin unsightly veins

      broken nails diminished brains

      blood-soaked pouches under eyes

      untoned muscles in the thighs

      matter seeping from the mouth

      scrotum wand’ring too far south

Or still acute enough to use the nose,

Which won’t permit imagination to repose.

Steeped in sense of scent

All too noxious to relent

The wizened nostrils sniff out fresh bouquets:

      warm farts hovering in my bed

      armpits reeking like I’m dead

      unwrapped cheeses left to rot

      the smell of cancer in my cot

      punk in toes that penetrates my hose

      nothing comes out smelling like a rose

I hear it all but can’t discern a word

I’m constantly repeating, What?

But in the night when Morpheus arrives

A simple whisper wakes me up.

The sounds that stir me are absurd:

      a toss a turn a spouse’s snore

      can lead me to the brink of all out war

      a creaking bed a faucet drip

      a neighbor nibbling a potato chip

      grinding teeth a nighttime wheeze

      a stomach grumbling from Chinese

And taste transforms itself to fetid waste

For what was once comestible now returns as indigestible

Coating heavily on the tongue.

When egg foo yong refuses turning into dung,

Taste buds are overwhelmed by backed up turd:

      unleashed a sour belch

      becomes impossible to squelch

      the aftertaste of bitter pills

      all types of medicines to cure my ills

      of onion garlic provolone

      intolerance of milk or mascarpone

And thanks for touch or what remains of it

For while there’s barely sense inside my cock

The tumor in my sack’s as hard as rock

And when the lights are out I feel myself to bed

Scraping fingers on the walls in dread.

      the mattress lump the dried out hump

      the cramp in calf that makes me jump

      plantar fasciitis in the foot

      every joint in body gone kaput

      an aching back or rotator cuff

      sciatic pain that sears my duff

And so I’m grateful to my God for granting faculties in age,

For granting full enjoyment until