Poem of the month


The Next Life


I want to be buried in a shed

but I’m not asking for any

shed comforts like a piece of

carpet or a one bar electric fire.

For company I would like

something simple

a chisel maybe or a claw hammer.


A mallet would be fine;

it would remind me

of those happier times

when my hands

could do carpentry,

make a coffee table

or a stool.


I don’t think I’ll need a window.

A door would be nice.

Maybe one of the relatives

could leave me a key?



John Vaughan