A Poet Who Died In The Gutter

I’m a son who betrayed his father for a piece of land
I’m a brother who cheated his siblings with a rogue hand
I’m a friend to all those men who are useful and rich
While the real friendships I had lie in a  lonely ditch
I’m a husband who was never there to wipe her tears
I’m a father who abandoned his daughter for several years
Finally, I’m all alone with the open skies and the birds who flutter
I’m a poet, hear my final song, who died in the gutter

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59 thoughts on “A Poet Who Died In The Gutter

  1. Frank, the way you bring to light all the failures we poets face, or dream we face, in some nightscape within our mind, is astounding. There are times, when the weight of problems I am yet to encounter weighs down on me, to a point where I feel like giving up, and the last line of this piece sums it up beautifully. “Seven feet of land, and open skies; this is what they’ll remember me by, a pit for my sadness, and a pit for my hope.”

    Liked by 1 person

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