TIME, GENTLEMEN, PLEASE ...
I find it incredibly sad to delve into old photograph albums and be reminded of how swiftly time passes and how rapidly a fresh faced youth becomes a tired old man.
The theme of Guernsey's June Open Mic event is "Time" and, had I been able to take part, this is one of the poems I would have read.
SNAPSHOT
A dapper man, old fashioned hat,
formality in clothes and stance,
and by his polished shoes, a cat,
as he glares at the lens, askance.
It must be after the Great War
in Nineteen Twenty-Three or Four.
My grandfather. I only knew
him in his sad, declining years:
a dodderer, with tie askew
and all too quickly moved to tears
perhaps for what we all must lose
that cannot be restored by booze.
The theme of Guernsey's June Open Mic event is "Time" and, had I been able to take part, this is one of the poems I would have read.
SNAPSHOT
A dapper man, old fashioned hat,
formality in clothes and stance,
and by his polished shoes, a cat,
as he glares at the lens, askance.
It must be after the Great War
in Nineteen Twenty-Three or Four.
My grandfather. I only knew
him in his sad, declining years:
a dodderer, with tie askew
and all too quickly moved to tears
perhaps for what we all must lose
that cannot be restored by booze.
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