Poem -
The Hog
He tended grief
like a scented rose
it stung the eyeballs
Stung the nose
He trailed it like a faithful dog
He fed it as one would the hog
before the slaughter
came to pass, he only wanted
Now't to last
He sat alone with pints of ale
Head bent down
Denying sight
Here, I was young
And did not know
Why this drunk man
should scare me so
Him needing death whilst
I was life
My soul had not yet griefs to write
These days I tend my own new
rose
It stings my eyeballs
Stings my nose
I sit myself with pints of ale
Wanting nowt cept breath to fail
M ~
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Comments
One still has a long way to go when you are young. Great Write.
Thanks so much J x
As per usual, emotion from me
Thanks R... deeply appreciated x
As always a mountain of emotions, especially the last stanza. 🌹 Beautiful poetry.
To be able to let it out and express pain with such clarity
is a real talent. Warm wishes my friend. B
Hi Marion,
Very well done intuitive write.Only a seasoned traveler of what we call like could pen this.
John
As usual, very close to home. This time I managed to make it out of the pub again, took me a few months, but the sun on the face is feeling good again. Love it