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

author
Jac Fables

One still has a long way to go when you are young. Great Write.

Reply
author
Marion

Thanks R... deeply appreciated x

Reply
author
Shirley Harrison

As always a mountain of emotions, especially the last stanza. 🌹 Beautiful poetry. 

Reply
author
Bernadete van d...

To be able to let it out and express pain with such clarity 
is a real  talent. Warm wishes my friend.   B 
 

Reply
author
John Prophet

Hi Marion,
Very well done intuitive write.Only a seasoned traveler of what we call like could pen this.
John
 

Reply
author
John Loopstra

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

Reply
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