some gods write plans


sunset painterly w logo

This poem demanded to be heard after I listened to a long-ago telephone conversation with a familiar refrain:

“When are you coming home? I can’t wait to see you.”

Dementia makes us all want to go home in one way or another.



a poem by punkie


download the past

the die is cast

brave souls get torn apart


i hear your voice

there’s little choice

it echoes in my heart


come home you say

to laugh and play

create a brand new start


walk down the road

where love once flowed

see skies that look like art


we’ll pay the price

and roll the dice

believe in dreams sweet tart


before too long

forget the songs

whose ends aren’t ours to chart


some gods write plans

in shifting sands

and grant us small bit parts


yet still we give

these lives to live

our blood, our tears, our hearts



These pieces explore similar themes:


© Susan Macaulay 2013 – 2015. I invite you to share the links widely, but please do not reprint or reblog or copy and paste my poems into other social media without my permission. Thank you.

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