Old men gather
At the gates
Of the closed down
Factory left to fate
The towers look down
In lofty dismay
In the town just
Another day.
They meet each year
On a hired coach
Whose metal grimmaces
Wheels that croak
To the seaside
Old men go
Reliving life
A final show.
Old men with
Watery eyes
Keep their memories
Deep inside
Back at the gates
A thousand ghosts
Arrive to take
Another shift
The towers look down
Upon a dismal town.
-
Author:
nephilim56 (
Offline) - Published: May 3rd, 2025 02:14
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 21
- Users favorite of this poem: sorenbarrett
Offline)
Comments1
This I think is one of your best. It is quite sophisticated in its wording with near rhymes barley recognizable in the background like ghosts. The meter is such that it carries one onward down a slippery slope toward the end. The message is both visually painted in a quaint literal manner and in a deeper metaphoric meaning. A most lovely write and a fave
thanking you, appreciated
To be able to comment and rate this poem, you must be registered. Register here or if you are already registered, login here.