This was written by me over thirty years ago when I was training to be a Poetic Lothario.

I truly didn’t know which came first, the chicken or the egg. And I don’t know which is which…If Viola Bleu is reading this, notice the strategically positioned AND! My little rebellion…


I left that morning

You were laid in your bed

the smell of life

the smell of bad breath

fungus growing on teeth and tongue

wiped clean

brushed aside

everything we had done

had vanished on the tide

of mourning

flooding in with light

Sober I stood

bleary eyed

stooped to fasten up my flies

Didn’t stop to say goodbye

never paused to wonder why


Mike Evans  


One time poet and philanderer… 

10 thoughts on “Mourning…

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  1. I have INDEED arrived to catch up with my favourite blogists and look what you’ve found amongst those 30 year old parchments!! The rush of youth, of words urging out … I liked this poem for your 20 something self. You are now enjoying I think picking through your attic contents and finding these treasures. (You should seen my poem I wrote for my 17th birthday … I’ll serious go and find it this week, but find a sick bucket first, ok?)

    Liked by 2 people

  2. How dose it feel meet a 30 years younger self through this poem crafted very well? Im not even close to 30. And you have treasured it for so long, this must serve you like a fine aged wine.
    Im really honored, you shared this gold with me. Thank you

    Liked by 1 person

  3. You two, now you got me started.
    Puppy Love.
    I remember being love struck at seventeen,
    Few blue days , ’cause I was young, dumb and green,
    Now when I recall words of love written in youths first blush
    Its with a certainty that ’twas no true love but a simple crush.
    Now I re-see those words that poured from my soul
    And i’m so… so… moved I’m retching for a sick bowl.

    Liked by 1 person

  4. Is there anything worse than a gloomy moody maudlin self-absorbed seventeen year old? My older brother, who went through this scenario a couple of years before I did. thought a bottle of Old Grosso Red Wine would help .It ended with tears, buckets of ’em. Bucket did do double duty to be fair. Did I learn? Damn straight- I went the Lager route, same sad result.

    Liked by 1 person

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