No Woman, No Child... Poem by Denis Martindale

No poems can I leave behind to bless my children here,
Because, you see, of all Mankind, no woman sought me near...
No wife, no child, to grace my home, no future legacy,
No need reciting of a poem or any poetry...
No purpose, then, to write for these, in some attempt to preach,
No sought-out thought-out rhymes to please, to entertain or teach...
No wisdom, humour, tales to tell, no prophecies to bless,
Just years to live the living hell that Man calls loneliness...
Yet in that lonesome state sublime, no interruptions stir,
So in that outstretched span of time new poems can occur...
And these I share with one and all, across the Internet,
While I, at home, can still recall lost sweethearts I regret...
I had a dream that burdened me, two children yet unborn,
They could be mine, if only she, bestowed true love not scorn...
But she, like others, offered nought, they looked and then moved on,
Till one day I no longer fought, because my youth had gone...
The old man that God caused to live the final years of life,
Abides in silence hours give, without a wondrous wife...
But while I live and while I breathe, who knows what I will write?
Yet when it's time for me to leave, I'll walk into God's light...


Denis Martindale November 2016.