Beverly Hills Dying



On Tuesday, I revisited the day you died
alone in your penthouse suite,
surrounded by eggs of Fabergé
and crystal flooding the room with rainbows.

That afternoon, rain obscured the sun.
Darkness wove through your world,
sucked the last vestige of strength
from you and your diseased cells.

Outside the window by your bed sat
a scrawny crow, rooted on the ledge
sixteen stories above the city that had
abolished all memory of you.

Leave,you told me, in a whispery voice. Leave.
(One shouldn’t have to face the inevitable alone,)
But, slowly I backed away, recalled how your word
always struck fear. That day, I wasn’t scared—just sad.

Outside, I waited in the courtyard beneath
a swaying palm tree, swathed by tropical vegetation.
I stood in the downpour and watched,
until the crow flew away.

Linked to Sunday Whirl where Brenda offers us a dozen words to whip into a poem or  short story. This is a fictional account!

In case you’re here for the etheree prompt, it’s an old link:  


16 thoughts on “Beverly Hills Dying

  1. Jamie Dedes says:

    Well done. I like the movement from glamourous Faberge to scrawny crow … and the use of crow.


  2. There is an air of holiness about the way you weave words…

    An Acrostic Whirl


  3. brenda w says:

    Death and crows. Powerful write. There is desolation in the city that abolished all memory… Your words are strong. I’m so pleased you found us at the Whirl, Victoria.


  4. tigerbrite says:

    Excellent. I read this first on my Email and clicked to comment then read again. The amendment is perfect 🙂


  5. 1sojournal says:

    Beautiful and captivating. Really like the whole of the piece and those last lines are incredibly “right.”



  6. Pamela says:

    Victoria, a wonderfully powerful poem on mourning. You have woven the words in seamlessly. I forgot it was a wordle as well. Excellent work.



  7. Hi again…Hey love Victoria. As a person on the Autism spectrum I mostly reflect what I see in life.

    This post is beautiful one that expresses a dignity of dying for me. The fewer words I say to a post never reflect that the words are not sacred to me. I read fast every word counts whether there is much of a response or not.

    When people leave very short comments that was nice or beautiful comments on your posts or others the intention may be deep as a reflection of what is written that cannot easily be expressed in writing.

    In other words don’t judge a word by it’s cover…Just a thought…not a direction.

    Every word of my previous story was worth it to me if only you were able to see the beauty of White Pearl. That’s how love works. I know you understand that.

    The joy that I feel of seeing you see that beauty on her blog makes me happier than one could likely imagine. Love you more now than ever friend.

    When that many people sing a song of love on a blog it is worth it to see, I think…there is a little more going on there than meets the eye. This is part of that too, if you will…

    I am just drawn to light…call me a moth if you like…I see it greater in you too as I do with White Pearl…

    See you later on D-Verse open link with Autistic Love Letters…and stories about other dark haired girls on this path of journey in life…where they lead this heart of love not the ’emotional’ ‘type’ as Captain of it…


  8. I completely missed the fact that this was a wordle, so powerful was your poem, so well-tuned to create the mood of mourning. I felt I was there in the moment.


  9. drpkp says:

    Couldn’t say it much better than Mishia … stunning poem – the images from Faberge egg to swaying palm tree and the emotion throughout are so rich and real I can taste them.


  10. Cathy says:

    Wonderful poem, you have a sad poem but reader take away strength from reading it.


  11. Laxmi says:

    Dying alone. People do want to die in their own homes. it must be refuge. Liked your words.


  12. kaykuala says:

    Sad episode and a moving poem. It provokes lots of emotional ganging up. One can’t avoid but is also emotionally led. The strength of reality is tops despite being fictional. Brilliant write Victoria!



  13. Mishla says:

    Breath-taking. You create such a rich atmosphere of grief and wonder.


  14. brian miller says:

    dang…full on emotion in this one…reminds me of watching my mother in law pass…she dwindled down and could only moan…i finally told my wife and her dad to let her go…she was hanging on for them…the crow and murder really leave the heavy feel in the end….


  15. annotating60 says:

    Victoria, this is a powerful poem. I really liked it. I have one comment that I’ll send you.>KB


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