THE MAN THEY SAY

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
A poem about loss and the bitterness that often remains long afterwards

Submitted: June 28, 2009

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Submitted: June 28, 2009

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THE MAN THEY SAY

The waters lapping onto the craggy rocks

below the steep cliff where i stand,

all alone and desolate.

I try and see in my mind's eye,

the man, they say, was good to me

but memory from its files has erased

all but the vaguest recollection.

The cascading spray from the crashing waves

eroding sand from the frontiers of the beach,

like time ebbing away

I glance at my watch, my only keepsake

of the man, they say, was good to me

and with the foam my anger does swell

for the one i never knew.

The biting cold plunders from my eye

the bitter tears to make their salty tracks

 down my windswept face

The cries of the circling gulls reminding me

how the man, they say, was good to me

was never where he should have been

When i needed him to be.

The landscape dotted on the horizon

like a pinhead in the distance

the place i left

with a burning desire to cleanse my mind

of the man, they say,was good to me

I visualise how things might have been

if a chance id just been given.


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