My Father lived his life with his eyes just out of the water,
Like an alligator quietly searching for something intense,
Of course he failed and fell at mankind’s great slaughter.
Being trapped by piles of gin bottles making a fence.
With a son who couldn’t strain and fight or arm wrestle,
Or bust the jaw of an enemy who got too near,
With a disappointed heart he found joy in a bottle,
And drowned his misfortune in a bath full of beer.
He didn’t come far from the junkyard to the graveyard,
I can’t help thinking that his life must have been hard.
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Author:
David Wakeling (
Offline) - Published: December 9th, 2024 01:51
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 22
Offline)
Comments3
A very touching and sad poem
I guess it is sad.Thanks for commenting
You are very welcome
Yes, sadly, that’s the way it looks. My one didn’t take to the bottle but acted out other ways. Back in the days when role reversal wasn’t a thing it was really tough to navigate.
Families ya can't live with them and ya can't shoot em. That's why i live alone.Thanks for your consideration
Know that feeling only too well DW. Be safe man 🙏🏻
A tough story of a life from the perspective of a son. So poetic in its telling it pulls at the heart and rests in the darkness of the earth. Well written in good verse
Thank you it is a tough story but a common one I'm afraid
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