POVERTy.
I was minding my own business sipping a libation
When the fella next to me,began a conversation.
He talked about the old days, back when life was grim.
He said no one else knew poverty, quite as bad as him.
I was looking for the exit, avoiding overthinking.
Then I changed my mind, when he asked “ What are you drinkin’?”
Then he introduced himself and ordered up the ales
So I sat and drank the beer he bought, and listened to his tales.
He talked about his childhood and memories looking back
His Mum and Dad brought thirteen kids up, in a one bed shack.
None of them had any shoes there was never owt to eat.
They saved up for a two bed house on a terraced street
The house they bought cost twenty quid in nineteen sixty four.
Cardboard in the windows, no roof and no front door
No locks on the bathroom door, no bolts nor anything
They saved themselves embarassment by learning how to sing!
They had no central heating. so in inclement weather.
Dad would suck a polo mint, while they huddled close together.
His family they had lots of things that you never find down South.
Rickets, smog diphtheria, arthritis, foot and mouth.
He never could afford a pet, when he was growing up.
He longed to own a Budgerigar, a Rabbit or a Pup.
He asked Dad for a kitten or an older cat would do.
But they had no room to swing one, the house was so bijout.
He started work when he was four, working down the mine
He worked all day to make ends meet and then did overtime.
Digging coal for fifteen hours to buy a loaf of bread.
Then he’d make his way back home, just in time for bed.
The only bed the family owned was the one that Grandad died in.
He shared with his nine brothers, all tucked up beside him.
His older brother Malcolm was a “Wetter” to his shame
Shortly after midnight,a trickling sound it came.
But behind every cloud you see,comes a silver lining.
Because every morning in the bedroom, a rainbow appeared shining.
Malcolm’s bedtime accidents drove them round the bend
All the kids who could n’t swim, slept in the shallow end.
His family lived in poverty the poorest of the poor
He worked all week for five pence and gave his Mother four.
By this time I was getting bored of hearing of his woes,
I was just about to drink mi pint and av it on mi toes.
When he said “ I’ve enjoyed our chat you've listened like a brother,
“ I’m just about to get a drink, would you like another?”
I wondered how much longer, he ‘d be telling his sad yarns
So answered “ Oh go on then, I’ll let you twist mi arm.”
The bar room ,it had emptied everyone had left.
They’d gone to call’t Samaritans he made em all bereft.
He continued moaning about his troubled life.
I became so traumatized, I began to miss the Wife.
He then went on to mention the season of goodwill
I was getting so depressed I was feeling rather ill.
“ I never received presents.”he woefully cried.
Dad told us Santa shot himself, a case of suicide!”
“ You can;t take money with you.” His Dad would often say.
They really had some tragic times, when on their holiday.
Him and all his siblings in Blackpool for a week.
But Blackpool in November really was quite bleak.
But still they’d stroll along the Prom then in the sea they’d run..
Getting hypothermia was all part of the fun.
By now the time was getting on, time for going home
I was getting rather tired of listening to him moan.
He thanked me for my company and he hoped we’d meet some more.
Because he had lots more tales to tell of when he was quite poor.
Tales of woe, of drudgery,he was a man obsessed.
Whoever he encountered would soon become depressed.
An atmospheric hoover, solemnity his gift.
This fella was as welcome as a fart inside a lift.
So if somebody asks you to join them for a drink.
Do your homework thoroughly, wait a while and think.
Do you think they’re capable of pleasant conversation
Or do you think they're suffering from humor constipation?
If you think they‘re boring or likely to offend.
Disengage or drink alone or find another friend.
Don’t take drinks from strangers because nothing is for free.
They’ll bend your ear all blinking night about them and poverty.
-
Author:
Chris Duffy (
Offline) - Published: May 22nd, 2022 15:13
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 21
- Users favorite of this poem: tallisman, L. B. Mek
Offline)
Comments6
What an intriguing tale you tell in your well crafted poem. I will take heed!
Thanks so much. Very kind words.
The result of a troubled mind. 😂👍
Hi Chris, as always so funny and well put together! Your photograph was the wrong one though, the loos must have belonged to the rich folks, they had toilet seats!
Thank you Talisman,
It stemmed from a conversation I overheard recently. Ironically, in a pub.
Three old blokes banging on about how hard life was way back then.
My version is obviously exaggerated. They did n't work dar n't pit until they were six !!!
Yep, they had to do their two years national service first!
'They’d gone to call’t Samaritans he made em all bereft.'
the thinly masked, witty cynicism
imbued in your lines, killed me..
(I'm not sure if there's something wrong with me
but I genuinely laughed reading
your subtle inferences
to some people's self-absorbed
obliviousness..)
and forgive me, but I couldn't help connect - in theme
your write, to that
beginning of Dostoevsky's 'Crime and Punishment'
where the despicable 'Marmeladov'
goes-on about his woes
while detailing
all the suffering, his choices
burden
his family with, especially
his Daughter...
(just a great read, dear Poet
I genuinely think it a privilege
when afforded to read
such polished writing
thank you!)
Hello my friend.
Many thanks for the kind critique of my general silliness.
Some didn’t understand that it was comedy!
I thought I was losing my sense of observational humour..
Very kind words for which I’m truly grateful and overwhelmed.
Kindest regards.
Hello my friend.
Many thanks for the kind critique of my general silliness.
Some didn’t understand that it was comedy!
I thought I was losing my sense of observational humour..
Very kind words for which I’m truly grateful and overwhelmed.
Kindest regards.
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