Friday, July 19, 2013

The Moonshine Man



I am the crazy man                                                   
Folk see me in the park                                           
And on the street corner
There’s a load on my back              
But there's none can see it                                      
As I sit on the bench                                     
Who will sit by my side?                                          
I am the crazy man                                                   

I have no sense they say
The little children stop
And then they stare at me
Or giggle nervously
"There is the moonshine man"
Because they think I have
A bottle in my bag
I have no sense they say

I have a chequered past
My body wanders by day
Like the chattering birds
I sleep now on that bench
My mind wanders by night
And often wake in fright
Watched by the hooting owl
I have a chequered past

I am the crazy man
For now I am alone
My clothes are soiled and worn
Just who knows what I am?
I have no wife or home
My child, he knows me not
Because of that bottle
I am the crazy man

4 comments:

  1. So heart touching story of being lonely and people don't understand the emotions.

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  2. This follows a theme of the reponses to Sunday Scribblings. I am amazed how many people have written such sad responses to (what I thoughts was) a neutral prompt like 'wander'!

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  3. A poem giving a voice to society's rejectementa. Sad but true.

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  4. Then I have been the crazy man! The crazy woman with the roof over her head, that is – so many qualities here, so human – alone even when people are around, carrying an insane unseen burden, chequers and all! Nice one, Old Egg : ) And I found J Cosmo’s observation true, most interesting.

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