WORKING MAN POET The call of the pen,Made me the man,I wrote to be. My working hours,And my daily week,Same, day by day. My rested evenings,And my fertile thoughts,Pen in hand. Come the weekend,That freed the pen,That poem was born. From frustration of life,The battles fought,The bitter man’s sigh. Lost again to the morning,Of anotherContinue reading “WORKING MAN POET”
Tag Archives: Poetry
God’s Waiting Room.
God’s Waiting Room. As he sat in God’s waiting roomAnd cast his mind back to the pastWhen he’d thrown a disenchanted glance at the moonAnd wrote about a love that didn’t lastThe folly of the path he tookWas lost in irony a bitter sighThe words carved from mind they mistookAnd threw a jaundiced eyeOver toiledContinue reading “God’s Waiting Room.”
A New Tear.
A New Tear. New Year’s eve,Tears of last year,Long gone. The smokers ash,Long scattered into,Forgotten winds. Your shadow lingers,Whispering to me.Bottles clink,Cheers for a new year. Have you gone?For how long?I’ll stay strong and,Forget your grip. by Robin McNamara © 2018
The Fisherman The sea swelled and splashedAgainst the hull of the boatWith its green net mountainDisappearing into foaming waters The fisherman’s hope and securityAn old sea dog saltedAnd weather beaten from aLifetimes toil upon the waters Times of hardships furrowed upon the browHis story told by scarred handsHe respects the seaWhich has taken many aContinue reading “The Fisherman”