John Thorkild Ellison (17/04/51 / Edinburgh)
A Local Lass
She hates my guts, that's what they say,
She's just a slut, but every day
She walks with a smile or even a frown
Through the high street of this little town,
A single mother, full of hate,
Who cannot bear to face her fate,
Her children hanging round her knees
Without so much of an 'if you please',
She'd like to add me to her list
Of older men, a little pissed,
Who gave her what they thought she wanted,
A little squirt that she took for granted.
It's very sad that it's come to this,
She doesn't even want a kiss,
She'd like to knife me in the heart
For calling her 'a f*cking tart'!
Her future days are full of doubt
And I can't blame her for opting out,
The heroin will ease her pain -
She'll never have to cry again.
There are those who think they've found the Truth
And turn their back on their awkward youth,
They cannot understand a whore
Was young and innocent before.
She used to play on the village green
But now she's 'evil' and 'obscene'
It's they who deserve eternal fire,
Sad eunuchs without God's desire.
Comments about this poem (A Local Lass by John Thorkild Ellison )
World Day for Cultural Diversity for Dialogue and Development
celebrated on May 21st every year
Your Favorite Poets’ Favorite Books of Poetry
Daily Rituals of Famous Authors
Writers seem to be the most prone to unshakeable routines and elaborate superstitions.
Incredible Reading Rooms Around the World
Cozy, beautiful places to curl up with a good book...
Top 500 Poems
The Road Not Taken
Still I Rise
If You Forget Me
Edgar Allan Poe
A Dream Within A Dream
Edgar Allan Poe
I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening