February 2, 2023


Writer's Showcase


2 min read

Consummation's Colours


Strands of golden web abound,
and silver ties here with there.
There is a settling of old bones –
yet not as old as might have been;
the days, scythed away, silently.

The rouge has drained from the skin;
has dripped relentlessly
from the open wound of disease.
And even though this blight was there
the spirit still maintained your life.

Now, pallid grey-blue’ish tones
suck my eyes to see him –
He with his lowered jaw, and lids,
and I see the face of the Christ
hung from the cross… elongated.

Violet heralds the advent
of his life’s certain moment –
and though I do not want its touch
to come upon my dying dad,
I wish it not to more delay.

The cold blue mist of silence
descends on the Friday ward.
The air is stilled and dust motes stay
suspended, as is life itself.
Now his occult breath is easy.

Colours mist my tearful eyes –
selfish tears of my sorrow
for too much time spent divided;
not wept for him who gave me life –
he is beyond the need of them.

Britain never gave him gold
for inhaling it’s wartime dust –
making weapons for the devil.
No medal to pin on his chest –
there is…

…just the touch of my pale-pink hand.


© Allen Ansell 2022

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  1. Every emotion is depicted so beautifully, this poem really touched my heart. I can just feel every word of this poem, bcoz I have gone through this..:(
    The pain is beyond words but u have got the art of bringing them together and putting them into words so beautifully! More power to those who have lost their near and dear ones. Thank you sir for such a masterpiece.

  2. What a poem Allen, you are a master or should I say that you have a God’s gift to put emotions, feelings, and situations into words so wonderfully. I must say that you are on a roll Allen, one after the other, I read your one writing and I say this is the best I have read and I read the next one and I say no no this is the best one, omg you are so good. Keep up the good work.

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