Emma Tenebrae

Emma Tenebrae's picture
I have seen some interesting things in just over forty years as a mother of three girls - all grown. My basket of experience is ever filling. Having children young tends to make you grow with them and can lead to some searching moments for various needs - love, money, evil, good, direction, help, safety, punishment and rewards. A balance of chance filled with trepidation or excitement for decision cast upon myself and my children has made for an interesting way to live. Even more to the point I have lived a life of poetry, from dark dank dungeons to rainbow pots of gold (learned the most from the dungeons though).

Dedicated to my father ...
Maniacal Dead Eyes

Maniacal dead eyes,
Inversed black,
Looking away.
Life long gone.

To laugh,
The gaping mouth screams
"No don't take me,
This day."

Whispers, predictions
Tells of its coming.
No one listens,
So life ends.

Look at the eyes
Open, crying.
There must have been
A fight so grand.

A wretched stiff statue,
Newly formed speaks,
Of the agony of creation.
So picturesque.

Years in it's making.
Days to dust.
But who owns,
His battle weary soul,
Not I.

May 2002

This poem was written in the weeks following a extremely static day in my life; what an incredibly long day it was too. I shall never allow my children to take care of me or let me die at home. No one except paid professionals should have to live through the torture of dementia or ahlzeimers and you never know until you don't know anything - if it will happen to you.

Funny thing is I can still see his eyes.


After Thought - I gave my address in the states but am currently residing in Somerset England - a transient of marriage. Emma Tenebrae is a pen name I have used for several years for my dark writings.
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