Who’ll care for him, attend his needs,
who’ll try to put him at his ease?
Who’ll tell him tales of way back when,
where he may be a boy again.
Those bygone days before he turned,
his world into a place he scorned.
Come, take him back, don’t leave him here,
he can’t fit in, the way’s unclear.
Pack up his ills and take him home,
he knows he must, his sins atone.
Regrets, he has and by the score,
he cannot bear them anymore.
He’s at his end, at mercy’s whim,
the silent fear, that din within.
Tormenting every breath, he takes,
the self-destructing altered states.
What he has done, beyond recall,
but on his word, laments it all.
He will own up, in hopes persuade,
his deep remorse for those betrayed.
Please hear him out, he’s on his knees,
with nothing left but dying pleas.
A wretched creature cloaked in gloom
whilst haunting shadows seek his doom.
The path to grace, repent. repent!
But non to ease his discontent.
So, how can he, his sins confess,
alone in death with his regrets?
If God is good, I’m sure He is,
He’ll take him in as one of His.
And then again, no one can tell,
perhaps the bastard burns in hell.
-
Author:
Tony Grannell (
Offline)
- Published: July 14th, 2025 06:12
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 11
- Users favorite of this poem: sorenbarrett, Bella Shepard, Tristan Robert Lange
Comments5
Once again you have done it a poem for all of us. Deeply personal it speaks of us all to some degree or other. A very human poem of life good and bad, joy and pain, regrets and the question of not so much where does God put him but where do we and where does he? Another fave my friend
Hello Soren,
Like the protagonist in your excellent poem: The Crazy Sonnet, very difficult to forgive, who knows what atrocities he committed. Based on the 'troubles' in, Northern Ireland. Your words are greatly appreciated and held in high regard.
All the best,
Tony.
I have always thought that heaven and hell are in one's own mind and this poem speaks to that. The things we do in one moment we look back on from another perspective and shudder. Love your poems Tony
Poetic power you possess is praiseworthy.
Hello Priya,
What a lovely thing to say. I'm overjoyed. Thank you ever so much.
You are keeping well, I trust,
Tony.
You are very welcome
Was he a naughty boy, then?
Your rhyme rhythm and flow just make for an effortless enjoyable read. I look forward to the next one.
A very bold boy, Dave: tut-tut-tut. Delighted you found the read enjoyable.
Do take care now,
Tony.
This poem tells the story of a sad human condition. I've often wondered if those, whom we find the most detestable, ever had the opportunity to follow a different path. No one is born bad. Your compassion for the person who might have been reveals an understanding of the human condition, but in the end it's about just deserts. Brilliant!!!
Hello Bella,
Just deserts, indeed. Thank you ever so much for your very fine response, most kind of you, truly.
Wishing you all the very best,
Tony.
This one doesn’t flinch, and neither did I while reading. You walk us through guilt, memory, and the haunted space between repentance and judgment with such stark precision. That final couplet lands like a gavel, but the whole poem lingers. Difficult subject, masterfully handled...only the way you can,Tony. 🌹👏 A true poet!
Hello Tristan,
The fine line between justice and forgiveness, who's to judge, who will be the executioner and then again, who will forgive - the bereft? Your excellent response is most appreciated and welcomed as always.
Wishing you the very best,
Tony.
You are most welcome!
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