Old Git – A Poem


My poetic alter-ego has been at it again…

Originally posted on The Poetry of Solomon Doornails:

English: Jackass Penguin Spheniscus demersus g...

Image via Wikipedia

This is a very short poem I wrote in December 2011 about an old man in a pub who was glaring at everyone around him.

My corner is my country,
This table, sacred space,
And I’ll tell you to piss off
With the stare upon my face.

I glare at those who are near,
And who come a bit too close,
With a bit of added sneer
With which I use my nose.

Crusted, wrinkled tobacco skin,
Bely a covered life of sin.
Mistletoe wilting at my sight,
Children crying at my fright

And as quickly as you noticed me,
I’ve put on my flatcap
To stagger down my road
In time to feed the cat.

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About Chris

Chris writes about food, writes the occasional poem and is amused by elastic. www.chrisgower.co.uk
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