Tag Archives: sow

is it fair to see a good man suffer?

Is it fair to see a good man suffer, because his wife loves no other?
Is it fair his bridges are burned and his children up and leave and their reputations upturned?
All because he loved the beast, a woman whose heart bleeds cold
Is it fair to see him die, old and grey and alone?
Because he obeyed a crone
If you think for one moment that I am pleased at revealing the truth, you’re blind
I did it to release myself, to my children – be kind
I knew that if I told the truth that my father he would stay behind, but I cannot vouch for him if he won’t leave worthless swine
I love my father and it hurts to see that I may never speak to him again
Because he is bullied by the wicked witch of old London’s east end!
He is isolated by her, like I was once
But he stays because he is in love
I don’t know what he sees in her, but he gave up friends and family for the dunce
I don’t know why, such a good man gets such a manipulative evil sow
I don’t care what you think of me for saying these words, I miss him, so does his sisters and brothers and wow – the hold that woman has on him, the things that he gave up
I just hope that when he dies he is rewarded the golden cup of life
Because his life has been hard and full of strife, for loving the beast from Hell
Oh how I miss him, can’t you tell?

Advertisements

Leave a comment

Filed under Poems G - I

out of this pigpen

Like burnt wood my heart remembers a life of beauty, of radiance and fresh life that was pure

Untouched by your hand, untouched by man, living a life obscure

I was taken for granted back then, when I was untouched by men

I am taken for granted now and left to burn like a rotten sow

I’m not sure quite what happened, I know it was a sin

For my memories are hazed but you are there within

I am a shadow of my former self

I cannot be her again

I need to find a way to be, out of this pigpen

I have no idea what was going on in my head when I wrote this, don’t ask me what this poem is about because it’s obscure even to its writer ha-ha make what you will of it.

Leave a comment

Filed under Poems M - O