Member Poem

The  road  to my hometown was  a  long, and arduous one.
I  loved  the walk ,and the privacy  it  gave  me.
My  mind  was  awash with  thoughts  of  confusion  on  foot of my favourite author’s premature demise.
Verna Usherette  was  her  name.  The  leisurely stroll weighed  heavily  on  me as  I  struggled  to  come  to  terms  with  her  departure.
Verna, in the general scheme of things, was  never  a  very  popular  author  but  I  felt she  spoke  to  me  even  in death.
Usherette’s  life,  like  her  death, was  shrouded  in  mystery.
Quite often I wrote enchanting fan letters to this author and in return there was an ethereal handwritten reply.
Her preoccupation with things beyond this world had a ghostly form.
Eerie in an intriguing manner even in Verna’s  responses which often felt like floating journeys between one planet  and another.
The  aging  process,  losing  one's  way,  searching for new escapes,  and otherworldly outlets  were  among  her  many  themes.  The manner  in  which  people  changed  shape  and  form with  time, allied  to  plots beyond Mother Earth  were also  part  of  her  repertoire.  There  seemed  to  be  an  ardent  desire  on  her  part  to  defy  Birth and Death  in  the  process  of  her search for this  elusive nirvana, an end point where life’s meaning would unfold.
Miss Usherette could link and loop angular profiles, broad brushstroke  upon broad brushstroke whilst simultaneously sidetracking every observant reader.
In summation  this  had  a  particular  resonance  as  I continued the trek towards  my  very  picturesque  hometown  with its  multitude  of  signposts,
byways and uncanny detours.
They  had  an esoteric  symbolic depth when out and about while  absorbing  very visual environments.
People  were  always  asking  me  for  directions  - asking  the  way as if I had an aura of expertise. Verna was uppermost every time I  directed  total  strangers.
You could feel  Verna  Usherette’s  presence  as  the  most  unusual, and,  sometimes  bizarre  characters  enquired  about local interest spots.
Some  of  these  people  would  have  been  admirably  suited  to  many  of  Miss  Usherette's  novels.  Did  Verna send  them I wonder?
The  most  directionless  elements  in  society  would  stop  me.  They  were  always  searching  for  something, and it wasn't necessarily  always for nightlife or entertainment.

Verna’s  passing  was  rather  sudden  at  forty-nine  years  of  age.
It  was  SpringTime  which  gave  her  death  a special  poignancy.
Her  books  had  this  magnetic  effect  on  everyone who bought them.  Many’s  the  time  I  was  lost  in  one  of  her intricately woven narratives  when  someone  had  to  remind  me  that  I was  on  planet earth.
Suddenly  I  heard  the  screeching  of  car  wheels  as  a  Toyota  car  pulled  up  beside  me.   A car  window  was  lowered  to  reveal an artistic greying  middle-aged  lady.  “Excuse me  sir.”
“May  I ask  you  a  question?“
Of course I said  with querolous  surprise  in  my  voice.
“I  saw  you  earlier today.
You  seemed angst ridden, possessed by gloom.
There  was sadness  about  you  as  if  you  had  lost  someone  or  something.“
An insight laden vocal cascade, a waterfall wonderment, clinically accurate, captivating in other words

"Well  to  a  certain  degree  yes I  really  don’t  want  to  impose.
I’m getting  used  to  my  deprivation."    As this strangely odd conversation began I couldn’t  help but notice  several  books  strewn  about  the  passenger  seat  some  of  which  she  was  clearly  trying  to  hide.  The  subject  matter  varies  from  Science  Fiction to Psychology.  There  were  rather interesting  tomes   as  well  on  assessing  people's  personality.   “I  love  talking  to  people.  You  are  no  exception.  Recent  events are  troubling  you  aren’t  they?  Your  life  story  is  in  your  face.”
There was an understandable hesitation on my part.
We both shared a curious common dress  sense in terms of sombre dull dark  shade.
For  total  strangers this heliacal accord was in evidence.
“Perhaps  there are overlapping aspects in our life experience.”
Loose comments ripple off.
“Don't  be  so  defensive.
Maybe  we  are  all  looking  for  something  in one  sense.
I  believe  this  happens  when  we  lose people or possessions  that are close  to  us.    Maybe  you aren’t  missing anything  at  all.“     There  was  a. chilling  precision to  her  words  as  our  probing  dialogue  continued.

“Wouldnt  say  its  a  figment  of  my  imagination  though.”   An arch retort on my behalf.
A cat and mouse game  was  unfolding  here  with  creepy  undertones.
“What  has  happened  is  very  tangible.
Well  it  is.”   I deadpanned.
“Did  I  realise  what  I  had  just said?"
This  time  to  myself.  I  could  now  feel  the  full  force  of  this woman’s  stare.
There  was  something  not  quite  right  about this encounter.  On  closer  inspection  her  accent  was  surprisingly  youthful  for  her  age.     From the corner of my eye I did spot  alterations.
Unnatural  alterations  to  her  countenance.
Quite amazingly  an  unexpected motorist who  intrudes  into  my  life was  almost  able  to  choreograph every thought  and move I had in mind.  A suspicion  now  occurrs  to  me.
One dares not even whisper it’s sinister backdrop.
“You  have  been  scrutinising  just about everything  haven’t  you?  The  books etc.”
I then  interrupt.  “You  forgot  to  die....I  mean  dye  your  hair.”

Those inklings of mine assume an unstoppable momentum.   Silence ensues.
I  started  to  shudder.   After a brief  interlude  we  both begin to laugh.
Glances were exchanged as hair-raising atmospheres start to  segue.
The lady in question was  still  trying to block my view.
“Somethings  are  best  left  unsaid.“   A wicked chuckle emanates from her.
“My  name  is Martin.  Whats  yours?  Aren’t  you  going  to  ask  the  way?”
Shivering visibly as I spoke.  “I  think  you  already  do  know  who I  am.  People and  things  can  always  assume  various  forms  can’t  they?  Thats  always  been  my core philosophy.
Maybe  yours.“
Her tone now from an azure blue sky zone beyond comprehension.
“As  for  directions I think  we  both  have  helped each other  in that regard.“
  Now I felt glued to the ground.
Without warning this mysterious person  drove  off  as  quickly as they  had  sprung from nowhere.
One couldn’t  help  hearing  a  thud  even  in  trance-like phases.  In a flash  it  all  made  sense.
“Oh gosh.”   I  shriek.  On  the  green  verge  to  the  right  of  me  I  saw  a  book.
“SIGNPOSTS  TO  ETERNITY - ASKING  THE  WAY."
VERNA  USHERETTE.
This ominous lady bizarrely reverses.
“I’m actually her ghostwriter…. for a lookalike friend.
She dreamed of writing but had no talent.”
This weird  twist didn’t stop there.
“You’ve been sending me fan mail all along.”
A smirk widens in tandem with pearlescent eyes.
“I’m really Verna and have been in search of you!”
I must have appeared thunderstruck at this point.
“Oh, Juno is this author’s real name.
“She had delusions regarding her stature.
Juno managed to fake her own death with my endorsement."
Crime scene units could not unravel the “fakes” at play right now.
“By the way in another sense,
If you know what I mean.”
A mysterious woman who finally speeds off is no longer so mysterious.
R.I.P. to quite a few things!
By the way, I ask you as the final episode closes on this mind-boggling incident or has it?