Counting The Days. Poem by Nomad Goggs
Counting The Days.
When i came to the lodge there were two ways to go,
carry on drinking and go with the flow,
or find myself, at last, from beneath all the masks,
and release my true self, too late, but at last.
I've met people of all sorts, classes and races,
sad, mad or angry etched on their faces,
people who have or have not kicked the smack,
users of all sorts, coke, pills and crack,
alco's' and families with poor little kids,
living in squalor with locks on the fridge.
They aint all the nicest, but a few of them are,
scattering stereotypes wide and far,
and wondering just how they fell this far.
I've learnt from them all in different ways,
sharing our time, counting the days.
or find myself, at last, from beneath all the masks, and release my true self, too late, but at last.. I think this is an extraordinary couplet. The message here is lit with hope... and that's what matters.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/25/2024 5:31:13 AM # 1.0.0.1119
Yes at times stereo typing can be rude and uncouthe. At other times we just may found that we are just as guilty as stereo typing as anyone else and not really be aware that we've done it right under the awareness of our sleeping stupid brain. Gave ya a ten fer this write kind sir. God bless all poets-MJG.