my grandson was taken by his mum hence, this scribble at one of my lowest points.
As eating a meal for one.
While sitting in a crowded room.
Looking through the windows,
Watching the midday sun.
Was the love I gave never received,
Or was it something in the past
That made them leave.
Or was the love only felt by one;
Sweet Marie or Rob
My ever loving grandson.
Remembering well that bright summer morn,
Feeling shattered;
As from my very being their love was torn.
In denial I begin to weep,
Only stopping when tiredness gets to much,
Then I fall asleep.
Waking in disbelief I wonder,
Was loving them my only blunder.
Again I begin to cry;
If only I could have faced them,
I could have said that hated word; Goodbye.
The word that ripped my soul apart,
on that fateful day.
Then left me with a broken heart,
Still weeping as on the bed I lay.
I sit caressing my only friend,
As though my old revolver knows;
For one of us our life will end.
Pointing the gun towards my head,
With shoulders slumped;
On a dead mans bed.
Wondering when their hatred began,
No they didn't just walk out; They ran.
Feeling as though I've been put upon a rack,
No fragments of happiness left.
I Pull the trigger; Then feel the gun barrel crack.
what cruel twist of fate,
As again I fail.
I feel as though my body's withered,
Like a dried up snail.
Uncontrollably I begin to cry,
But no longer feeling so alone
I here these loving words,
High grandad we're home.
Poetry by Alan J Ripley
Read 249 times
Written on 2021-08-18 at 13:14
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LOVE IS FOUR HUNDRED MILES AWAY
There's nothing so lonely;As eating a meal for one.
While sitting in a crowded room.
Looking through the windows,
Watching the midday sun.
Was the love I gave never received,
Or was it something in the past
That made them leave.
Or was the love only felt by one;
Sweet Marie or Rob
My ever loving grandson.
Remembering well that bright summer morn,
Feeling shattered;
As from my very being their love was torn.
In denial I begin to weep,
Only stopping when tiredness gets to much,
Then I fall asleep.
Waking in disbelief I wonder,
Was loving them my only blunder.
Again I begin to cry;
If only I could have faced them,
I could have said that hated word; Goodbye.
The word that ripped my soul apart,
on that fateful day.
Then left me with a broken heart,
Still weeping as on the bed I lay.
I sit caressing my only friend,
As though my old revolver knows;
For one of us our life will end.
Pointing the gun towards my head,
With shoulders slumped;
On a dead mans bed.
Wondering when their hatred began,
No they didn't just walk out; They ran.
Feeling as though I've been put upon a rack,
No fragments of happiness left.
I Pull the trigger; Then feel the gun barrel crack.
what cruel twist of fate,
As again I fail.
I feel as though my body's withered,
Like a dried up snail.
Uncontrollably I begin to cry,
But no longer feeling so alone
I here these loving words,
High grandad we're home.
Poetry by Alan J Ripley
Read 249 times
Written on 2021-08-18 at 13:14
Save as a bookmark (requires login) Write a comment (requires login) Send as email (requires login) Print text
