Unionist, the man in his fifties and near by sixty
loose heart, loose oneself, loose one's way
and finally loose his weight.
He walks lop-eared, lopsided
but very loquacious and try to maintain his Lordship.
Running at a lost he always dreams of lotteries.
Still a lover in a lounge.
With his lounge suit wanders in parks
in lonely evenings.
A book of loose-leaf memories in hand
and the loner who is mending
the patches of life.
Like a black and white photograph of revealing clarity, this word study is honest, geniune and heartfelt. I love the last line.. Praise for the courage that created it. Warm regards, Sandra
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Excellent poem, Nimal! You have painted a real picture with your great imagery.You should be published- I am impressed. Blessings to you! - Theresa