I am a man of straw with feet of clay
Which sums up my life every damned day
Unlike a potter I have spun away
Creating havoc in my sad life today
A wanderer drifting no end in sight
Guilty as charged an ugly urban blight
A painter that's blind and can see no light
A prize boxer that can no longer fight
Just what does this mean I hear you all ask
I beg for mercy I failed at my task
Finally now I must remove my mask
A drunkard for I downed wine from a cask
I lost my job but that was quite easy
Going to work and feeling quite breezy
Kissing a girl that was really sleazy
Got the sack as was found quite queasy
Though what follows was worse when I got home
Dribbling mouth, hair a mess, had lost my comb
"Useless particle" said wife, she did foam
Slammed door in face so continue to roam
Image found at https://pixabay.com/photos/homeless-stockholm-drifter-1527966/
Oh dear, can't help feeling sorry for him, even if it was largely self-inflicted.
ReplyDeleteYikes -- he definitely knows what he did to cause his sad life; and I hope now that he has enumerated them he will decide to turn his life around!
ReplyDeleteOh dear..the perils of getting caught!
ReplyDeleteA sad tale indeed, yet there is something charming about this character in his brokenness. Perhaps it's the potential for redemption that still resides deep within him. For example, he may now be a painter who sees no light, but the very fact of calling himself a painter seems to point to a day when he will again see light.
ReplyDeleteI agree with MMT - while the poem as a whole seems sad, I believe this character can change his life around as he knows where he has gone astray. It seems redemption might not be so far away.
ReplyDeleteA slipping down life is hard to escape from, once home is lost. These days, the price of a rental is beyond such folks. You described him so well, Robin.
ReplyDeleteOh dear, I feel a deep ache for him! You have portrayed the scene so well, Robin.
ReplyDeleteOnce you start to fall it takes time to reach the bottom of the pit.
ReplyDeleteA sad state of affairs.You really got down in to it!
ReplyDeleteAlcohol can steel so much life from so many. Really well written perspective, Robin.
ReplyDeleteYou keep falling until you hit the bottom. Seems like he has a while to fall.
ReplyDeleteI like the lines:
ReplyDelete‘A painter that's blind and can see no light
A prize boxer that can no longer fight’.
I think he got his come-uppance, Robin.
The road to perdition just takes walking down it I think--yikes--poor guy
ReplyDeleteThough he may be a bit of an antihero … honesty (and he is bluntly honest) for me, pardons a multitude of sins.
ReplyDeleteit is so sad that he can't even return to his home. perhaps he must understand the need to straighten out of this mess he created.
ReplyDeletewonderfully crafted poem, Robin.