Mark Heathcote (22/03/66 / Manchester)
Caught Between Two Opposing Angels
One glorious summer's evening,
In O'Sheas Irish Bar in Manchester
I bought a round at last orders.
When the bell began to sound…
I thought it odd, people are leaving
In their droves; then the doorman
Said down your pint 'Mr and go'…
Or I'll take it now, bro.
I protested and made him wait…
I didn't anticipate his anger
Towards me or his unapologetic hate!
Outside, I complained face to face.
He got aggressive filled with rage
He wanted to kill me - seriously.
I then called him a little-Adolf-Hitler
My you should have seen his enrage.
'It wasn't the name Adolf Hitler
So much as the word little
That caused him offense'.
He raised his fists, I got the gist.
And wasn't about to back down…
But then an arm came around my waist
And these gentle words come with me
He isn't worth it… and so I calmly left.
Comments about this poem (Caught Between Two Opposing Angels by Mark Heathcote )
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