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Train Journey

This was written in Scotland – I used to catch the first train from Huntly to Dyce at the time, it was around 6 a.m. and there was a light dusting of snow on everything.  Between Insch and Dyce the train overpasses the road – this is the place where just at first light that morning a man stepped out in front of the train.  I heard what I’ve described in the last verses of the poem – I never did see that river of red with my own eyes, I saw it in the ashen face and eyes of the train conductor.  It was a long time before I got to work that day, traumatized…… I worked the rest of the day – on my way home in the evening, all that night and the following morning there was a tapping in my head.  Just a light tapping trying to gain my attention, I felt uneasy – there was something I had to do……. by the end of the day after the suicide I’d written the poem below.  The tapping stopped – I’d done what I was asked to, my feeling of unease ceased.  I don’t know who this person was, all I heard was that it was a young man – the words of the poem came to me from another place.  A couple of years later a work colleague read the poem and said that it’s giving that man his dignity, my thought is that it’s giving him the understanding and empathy that he probably didn’t feel while he was alive – may he find peace.


Hollow eyes – once burned so bright,
in the middle of the night.

Alone and feral, empty of light
full of anger and lonely fright.

Victim and predator,
stalking the night.

The choices narrowed,
doors and windows slammed shut.

Nowhere to turn,
no strength left to fight.

Monsters and fiends invading dreams,
ruling both the day and night.

Friendless decisions,
Lonely resolve.

Striking at self a final blow,
touching others caught in the flow.

For the eyes that are no longer
Shiny and bright.

What great event shall,
the passing incite?

As the train emerges into light,
So life speeds into endless night.

The thud of impact,
shook the dawn.

The clank of bone,
on steel and stone.

A still river of red,
marked my passing into the realm of dead.


© 2012, 2017 Lusha Hood, all rights reserved.

A Cats Point of View

Explanations are just too few
For a typical cats point of view

Snooty, superior we may seem
But listen to idiots we do not deem

Humans are useful for warmth and food
But they don’t understand us as another cat would

Why they continue to maintain
Within the confines of their domain

Creatures completely lacking in dignity
Unable to comprehend serenity

Creatures whose brains are like dense fog
Creatures as stupid as the dog

There is no creature to be our rival
We walk alone, rather than be tribal

There are no limits to where we roam
There is no one place that we call home

From high up on roofs and tops of fences
To below the ground we take our chances

We see things clearly in the night
And warm our backs in the bright sunlight

We are superior in every way
To creatures we meet during the day

At night our prowess is undiminished
With silent leap our prey is finished

Soft, furry and cuddly when at rest
Sleek, fast and dangerous when at our best

I am cat and revered shall I be
For my intellect and my hunting ability

© 2017, 2012 Lusha Hood, all rights reserved.

My Love

Once I would hold your body
Whispering your name
Solid in my arms
Your hot breath on my skin

But now the wind has blown
And your life has changed
I can only see you as the wisps of smoke
Dissolving through my withered hands

Once you would wrap your arms around me
Whispering my name
While the passion burned
The world so far away

But now the wind has blown
And my life has changed
I feel you receding in the smoke
Swirling around my withered hands

Once I would stroke your shoulders
While you touched my face
Listen to your stories
And never feel afraid

But now the wind is blowing
And our lives have changed
I can only feel the wisps of smoke
As they disappear through my withered hands

Once we would feel our bodies
Hot and close as one
Quiet conversations
Never counting time

But now the breeze and wind
Have taken all the warmth away
And all that I have are the tendrils
Leaving my feeble, withered hands

Once I searched and found you
In the eddies of the sea and sand
In the waves low thunder
And the oceans undulating land

But now the wind has blown and the fire gone
And all that I’m left with
Are the wisps of memories
Still clinging to my withered hands

© 2010, 2017 Lusha Hood, All Rights Reserved.

The Mid-Atlantic Ridge

All is well,
on the mid-Atlantic ridge,

My feet dangle from the clock tower,
And brush against the bridge.

It’s just gone 10.30
And the air carries spice,

But the marketplace is crawling,
With cockroaches and lice.

The snakes are feeding mullets,
With strawberry jam on bread,

While the sharks are munching
on grass and cabbage heads.

Noses bleed and ears swell,

The town crier is choking,
on a cracked sea shell.

The jester is constipated,
with ditties and dance,

The King has gone ahead,
And taken a hen to his bed.

The Duke and the Duchess conspire,
To attire the pigpen in gold,

While, the Queen and her Ladies retire
To their private wallpapered hell.

The knights are in pink,
The peasants in blue,

The Cook and the stable boy,
Are jousting with cues.

The wool has shrunk on the sheep,
And they gag on the grass.

The frogs in the audience
demand an encore,

The geese and the chickens
stomp their feet on the floor.

The conductor’s insane,
The orchestra’s gone mad,

Playing the same three notes,
over and over, and over again.

The cockroaches and lice
in the marketplace,

Are doing the tango
in front of the mice.

It’s just gone midnight
and midday all told,

The town crier collapses
in spasm and dream,

Where sharks chase mice
And cats swim laps,

Redheads are blonde
And brunettes are dead.


The rabbits and hares,
in collusion with swine,

Fill condoms for the party
with strawberry wine,

The cows are waltzing
with udders exposed,

While the bulls learn to knit,
wearing pantyhose,

While the King and his hen
Doze off and snore,

The Queen wallpapers
The ceiling and floor.

The knights retire
To practice their jousts,

The peasants inquire
About the price of moon-dust,

The merchant keeps stock
To sell, lease or rent,

For the wealthy and needy,
For the straight and the bent.

So what!! that the Lion is gay
Moon-dust on his mane,

His pride all in tatters,
Standing off to the side,

Red claws, red lips,
Bells, tinsel and glint.

Marsupials and mammals
hide behind wall panels,

Reptiles in sunglasses
Chase donkeys with molasses,

Zebras in g-strings,
Decorate the walls,

The ladies in waiting,
Attend the Kings calls.

The Queen and the Bishop,
Are consorting in bed,

While the parrots and toucans,
Sing of love overhead.

Snails slide of roof tiles,
And somersault to earth,

The swine have turned to drink,
The policemen to crime,

The lawyers are silent,
And mime mimics mime.

The valet parks pumpkins,
The cook chops trees, carriages and chairs,

Birds fly north for the winter,
Fish swim south for the summer,

Whales take to the East,
The sharks filter west,

The Ridge has gone quiet,
For a well-earned rest.

© 2005, 2017 Lusha Hood, all rights reserved

I heard voices…..

I heard voices that have echoed for millennia,
Between the desert rocks and the distant sun…..

I discerned forms long turned into the dust,
On which their shadows still lingered……

I saw the ocean of time ebb towards the horizon,
Leaving a trickle on the desert floor…..

I heard the roar of the midday sun,
In symphony with the wailing wind…..

I felt life turn its face towards itself,
As the blood eased flowing through my veins……

I knew well all the places,
To which I have never been,
And which continue to elude me…….

© 2002, 2016 Lusha Hood, all rights reserved


Yesterday was a day for daises
Sweet dreams that oft came to naught
Yesterday was a day for learning
Not for praise nor regret
you offered me the daisy in the palm of your hand.

But today is a day for roses
Sweet scent heavy in the air
A day for roses, lust and despair
A day spent in the darkness of smoke filled air

Today is a day for roses
A day for passion spiced with pain
A day of destruction followed by rain
A day when only the roses remain

Today is a day for roses
A day of petals and thorns
A day in perfume adorned
A day when life calls us home

But tomorrow is a day for lilies
Tomorrow, untainted and pure
Tomorrow holds dreams that seem sure
Tomorrow when we will learn more

Then the lilies all wither and fade
And the rose blooms cut through the night

© 2010, 2016 Lusha Hood, all rights reserved

Tik Tok

Tik tok, tik tok
I whisper…………..
‘That must be the clock’

Tiny feet scuttle in the hall
I whisper…………..
‘That’s just the mice, going up the wall’

Boards creak in the floor
I whisper…………..
‘That’s just time, shuffling down the corridor’

Wind rattles the window screen
I whisper…………….
‘That’s the 6 o’clock news, trying to get in’

Sheets rustle on our bed
I whisper…………..
‘Let’s make love instead’

© 2008, 2016 Lusha Hood – all rights reserved


Sometimes the light of day hurts our eyes,
In truth, the wrinkles to disguise.

Sometimes we look in the mirror to see,
The youth, which only lives in our memory.

Sometimes we see our bare, withered skin,
And we pour ourselves another gin.

Sometimes we revive our fading charms,
In a young man’s arms.

Sometimes the refuge that we find,
Is in the dark twisting alleys of the mind.

© 2011, 2016 Lusha Hood

Welcome to the other side of the Wall

It’s 50 to midnight,
The men are all asleep….

The nooks and the crannies
Are full of mice with muddy feet…..

The women are whispering,
About the quality of wine……

And the clock keeps on ticking,
But it’s only half-time……

© 2006, 2016 Lusha Hood – All rights reserved


landscape-007There was a time of darkness,
thick, black heavy air.
Surrounded and enveloped,
encased and locked,
in the cold, dark depths,
every move and thought.

There was a time of locked doors,
heavy bolts slid shut.
Mean minds and angry footsteps,
invading the night.
Eyes watching and listening for words,
uttered through sleep and dream.

There was a time of nightmares,
loneliness and pain.
Standing on life’s road,
a child with tears.
Walking a dark path,
over many, many years.

Freedom came like death and birth,
all rolled into one.
Freedom was a journey,
in fear begun.

Freedom took a path lined with mirrors,
that pained the eye to see.
Freedom opened windows,
and let the desert air in.

Freedom unlocked doors,
in the mind and heart.
But my hand had to push each open,
and take a step outside.

Freedom laid a path through space,
and over time.
But the decision to follow,
had to be all mine.

Freedom showed me wonders,
along it’s winding road.
But freedom never told me,
what the EXIT sign would hold.

© 2009, 2016 Lusha Hood – all rights reserved.

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