A Sobering Tale.
Sometimes he sits, sometimes he thinks.
At other times combines the two
More frequently he sits and drinks.
Because he cannot bear the view.
The only view that he can see
through pain filled eyes awash with tears.
He can remember vividly.
The promise of his early years.
When he was young and full of hope.
He had the whole world by the tail
But later found he could not cope,
although he tried to no avail.
Discovering that a drink or two
helped to alleviate the stress
A sorry story nothing new
His life became a complete mess.
He lost his job it had to come.
His drinking led to a divorce.
His wife then claimed the family home.
His life sped on it’s downwards course.
A friend became his enemy
because he let it take control.
It took him over completely.
Dependent now on alcohol.
No longer does he drink from choice
That luxury is now denied.
He drinks to still the nagging voice
which urges him to suicide.
Today he’s just a drunken bum
with nothing to look forward to.
Bar cheap red wine to make him numb
albeit temporarily.
Sometimes he sits, sometimes he thinks
sometimes he can combine the two.
More often though he sits and drinks
There’s nothing he would rather do.
10/10/2009
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
There is a Tavern in the Town
There is a tavern in the town, in the town,
And there my true love sits him down, sits him down,
And drinks his wine 'mid laughter free,
And never, never thinks of me.
Fare thee well, for I must leave thee,
Do not let this parting grieve thee,
And remember that the best of friends must part, must part.
Adieu, adieu, kind friends, adieu, adieu, adieu!
I can no longer stay with you, stay with you,
I'll hang my harp on a weeping willow tree,
And may the world go well with thee.
poem by Anonymous Americas
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Anacreontics, Drinking
THE thirsty earth soaks up the rain,
And drinks and gapes for drink again;
The plants suck in the earth, and are
With constant drinking fresh and fair;
The sea itself (which one would think
Should have but little need of drink)
Drinks twice ten thousand rivers up,
So fill'd that they o'erflow the cup.
The busy Sun (and one would guess
By 's drunken fiery face no less)
Drinks up the sea, and when he 's done,
The Moon and Stars drink up the Sun:
They drink and dance by their own light,
They drink and revel all the night:
Nothing in Nature 's sober found,
But an eternal health goes round.
Fill up the bowl, then, fill it high,
Fill all the glasses there--for why
Should every creature drink but I?
Why, man of morals, tell me why?
poem by Abraham Cowley
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Grandmama
She sits and rocks contentedly.
She’s grateful for the evening breeze
which is perfumed by lilac trees
and cools the air considerably.
A picture of serenity
a comforter across her knees.
As she recalls fond memories
from long ago with clarity.
What day it is she does not know
her short term memory is gone
She sits and rocks quite happily
and watches as the sun sinks low.
She understands when day is done
but little else apparently.
She’s cared for by her family.
Who make sure she is comfortable
She is no longer capable
of living independently..
No longer as she used to be.
A sight that makes them sad to see
as she regresses mentally.
Though they are glad she does not know.
Appears to suffer no distress
quite happy in her mindlessness.
They think perhaps its better so.
10-Aug-08
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Room With A View
First thing he does when he climbs out of bed
He searches out a place to drink his daily bread
He wraps himself up tight in alcohol
It keeps him warm at night, like grandmas shawl,
When he was a child, with everything planned,
And his body was clean
Now he sits all alone
In a room with a view of the brick wall he's run into
Life has a way of leaving people like him stained
First thing she does when she goes out at night
She sells a smile to get what fills her inside
She brings plenty home and slowly gets stoned in a room by herself
She sits all alone in a room with a view of the brick wall she's run into
Life has a way of leaving people like us stained
song performed by by Warrant
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Avoid hot
Avoid to drink
Hot drinks...
Hot drinks is
Drink take proper food...
Drink to drink...
With hot drinks...
Emty stomach...
Acute gastric
Problem will be come...
So...
Avoid hot drinks for
Your liver and stomach...
poem by Otteri Selvakumar
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Fate's Battle
He sits amung the blood, amung the sorrow,
He thinks of her, how she left him.
He knows he was right, about her hidden hate,
He learned he was wrong, about her feeling towards him,
He saw the pain behind her eyes, and how they reflected his.
He bacame what he is, he left himself behind,
Now he sits behind the flames, behind her body,
He waits to see, see what will happen.
See what will become, what will end.
He knows he's lost something o this night,
He knows he lost his hope,
He knows he's lost the battle of fate.
poem by Bethany Maxwell
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All Alone
SHE SITS THERE ALL ALONE
HER CHILDREN GROWN
WITH FAMILY OF THEIR OWN
SHE WONDERS WHAT HAPPEN
CHILDREN ALL OF THREE
THEY HAVE GROWN LIKE FRUIT UPON THE TREES
GRANDCHILDREN SHE HAS SIX
GETTING HARDER TO REMEMBER THEIR NAMES
SHE SITS THERE ALL ALONE
NO ONE COMES TO VISIT
HER GRANDCHILDREN DOESN, T KNOW HER
HER CHILDREN HAS FORSAKEN HER
SHE WONDERS WHY
SHE SITS THERE ALL ALONE
SHE LOVED HER CHILDREN DEARLY
WANTED NOTHING BUT THE BEST
WORKED HARD AND WENT WITHOUT
HER CHILDREN SHE WOULD DIE FOR
SHE SITS THERE ALL ALONE
SHE WONDERS WHY
SHE THOUGHT THEY WOULD BE AROUND HER
LIKE ALL MOTHERS DO
GET TOGETHERS ON SUNDAYS
SEE A MOVIE OR TWO
SHE SITS THERE ALL ALONE
SHE REEKS HER BRAIN
WONDERS WHAT DID SHE EVER DO
TO GET SUCH COLD TREATMENT
FROM THE BABIES SHE ONCE KNEW
SHE SITS THERE ALL ALONE
THE ANGELS CAME AND CARRIED HER HOME
poem by Verna Ralph
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Unseen dangers!
She prowls the floor then sits and stares.
But when I look there’s nothing there
But still watches carefully.
What does she see that I can’t see?
I wonder why she sits and stares.
Nothing will catch her unawares.
Perhaps she is protecting me
from dangers that I cannot see.
Cats tend to mind their own affairs.
They’re secretive and will not share.
The only thing that worries me.
I still don’t know what she can see.
Why should I worry needlessly?
While she watches protectively.
Thursday,22 September 2011
Http: // blog.myspace.com/poeticpiers.
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Old man
Old man sits on a bench
His life surrounded by a cyclone fence
Remembers times from way back when
As he sits beside his best friend Ken
Relives the old times again and again
He was married to his late wife Jen
The love of his life from back then
He says his sorrow will never mend
Pulls out a card he never did send
Tries to be tough but he can`t pretend
He says Jen was his very best friend
Was very sad when her life did end
Tells ken that you never know when
The time you have will come to an end
Send your love as soon as you can
Don`t delay for another day
Sometimes god will take her away
Here on the bench the old man stays
Day after day he sits and prays
A tear from his eyes as they start to glaze
With love in his heart that never strays
Even after they have parted ways
poem by Joseph Whelan
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Old grey eyes
Old grey eyes
~
He sits alone in the bar
Slumped into his chair
Looking down onto the table
Turning the glass in his hand
Occasionally, looking up
He surveys the room quietly
His brow furrowed
Eyes deep cast look tired
The is an air of sadness about him
That no-one seems to know
He is just old grey eyes
The man who sits in a bar alone
Looking down at his drink
Almost mouthing words
In conversation with himself
He is sensibly dressed
With old tatty shoes
He picks through his change
Counting out another drink
He will be there for a while longer
And then when he has gone
Who will say ‘old grey eyes’
‘Do you remember him’
poem by Matthew Holloway
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One Thirty-six A.m.
I laugh sometimes when I think about
say
Céline at a typewriter
or Dostoevsky...
or Hamsun...
ordinary men with feet, ears, eyes,
ordinary men with hair on their heads
sitting there typing words
while having difficulties with life
while being puzzled almost to madness.
Dostoevsky gets up
he leaves the machine to piss,
comes back
drinks a glass of milk and thinks about
the casino and
the roulette wheel.
Céline stops, gets up, walks to the
window, looks out, thinks, my last patient
died today, I won't have to make any more
visits there.
when I saw him last
he paid his doctor bill;
it's those who don't pay their bills,
they live on and on.
Céline walks back, sits down at the
machine
is still for a good two minutes
then begins to type.
Hamsun stands over his machine thinking,
I wonder if they are going to believe
all these things I write?
he sits down, begins to type.
he doesn't know what a writer's block
is:
he's a prolific son-of-a-bitch
damn near as magnificent as
the sun.
he types away.
and I laugh
not out loud
but all up and down these walls, these
dirty yellow and blue walls
my white cat asleep on the
table
hiding his eyes from the
light.
he's not alone tonight
and neither am
I.
poem by Charles Bukowski
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She's The Girl
She's the girl who sits in the corner
Tears streaming down her fae
Thinking her life is a waste
She's the girl who sits in pain
her life becoming harder and harder
Will she last much longer
She's the girl who cuts her wrist
hating every thing
that life had to bring
She's the girl who balls her fist
punching holes into the wall
In her eyes she is so small
She's the girl who wants to hide
She's the girl who wishes for Suicide
poem by Lizzie Resendiz
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A Girl Who Is Lonely
There she sits,
All alone and in the dark,
No body cares,
Whether she is even there,
She questions to herself,
Does anyone care about me?
And wonders whether she is even seen,
She sits alone,
Feeling invisable,
Feeling scared,
All of these emotions inside,
Not knowing how to hide,
She tries to stay strong,
She tries to be brave,
To hide all of the pain inside,
She thinks of all of her past,
Wondering what she ever did wrong,
What she did to deserve all of this,
She sits alone,
No more tears to cry,
No more words to speak,
A single person speaks,
Startling her,
She looks around,
To find she is the only one there,
The one being spoken to,
She begins to feel part of the world,
And feels visable.
poem by Charlie Bones
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Tubthumping
We'll be singing
When we're winning
We'll be singing
I get knocked down but I get up again
You're never going to keep me down
I get knocked down but I get up again
You're never going to keep me down
I get knocked down but I get up again
You're never going to keep me down
Pissing the night away
Pissing the night away
He drinks a whisky drink
He drinks a vodka drink
He drinks a lager drink
He drinks a cider drink
He sings the songs that remind him of the good times
He sings the songs that remind him of the better times:
"Oh Danny Boy
song performed by by Chumbawamba from Tubthumper
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Hope And Truth
pain is not your true friend
it does not stay long
it looks for another
faithful company
that is hope
and so is happiness
that knocks once and like pain
enters your door
sits on your chair
and dines and drinks with you
but only for a while
you want it to stay some more
you pamper it with scrubs
and foot massage
a very soft bed and
a bear hug and a french kiss
it goes out without notice
flies from your window
leaving you
a certain emptiness
that is the truth.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Too Old To Work And Too Young To Die
That time catches up on us all is surely not a lie
He is too old to work and he is too young to die
On retirement pension and quite bored with life
He spends much of his time arguing with his wife
On their fortieth year of marriage and love between them long dead
With a son and daughter and seven grandchildren and old age ahead
Since the warm feelings of love in their life has gone cold
They have nothing to look forward to but growing old
He and his wife in their mid to late sixties and their best years long gone
And only the will to live keeps them living on
Years ago they used to walk hand in hand to the park off of the street
But nowadays out walking them one never does meet
On his own in the pub he sits and drinks his beer
Looking rather unhappy and lacking in cheer.
poem by Francis Duggan
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At his own cost
Perfection sits on a heap of wastage.
Discipline sits on a pack of stresses.
Promptness sits on a sack of neglects.
One thus satisfies others at one’s cost.
20.08.2009
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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The Vine
The wine of Love is music,
And the feast of Love is song:
And when Love sits down to the banquet,
Love sits long:
Sits long and arises drunken,
But not with the feast and the wine;
He reeleth with his own heart,
That great, rich Vine.
poem by James Thomson
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The best laid plans for J.T Ellison
The best laid plans
He sits and thinks but rarely shares
the subject of his pondering
He is convinced nobody cares
to hear his views on anything.
He does not like to watch T.V.
unlike the other residents.
He’s happy sitting quietly
Reviewing long ago events.
When he was self sufficient.
Intelligent and capable
‘til a cerebral accident
which rendered him incapable
of living independently.
Forced his reception into care
although it’s very plain to see
He would much rather be elsewhere.
Though he’s disabled physically
His mental capability
is not impaired apparently.
He accepts philosophically.
Life rarely goes as you have planned.
We meet with things we don’t expect
for fate not man is in command
What fate decrees we must accept.
22/04/2009
http: // blog.myspace.com/poeticpiers
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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A conservative is a man who just sits and thinks, mostly sits.
quote by Woodrow Wilson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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