A Fringe Dweller - Poem by Francis Duggan
Don't have a church for to go to don't even bother to vote
Not in a writers group or in a book club or never said I was a poet
Don't have a god to worship don't believe in a heaven or hell
I am just another poetaster and I only pen doggerel.
I do not honour war heroes or weep at the graves of the dead
An ageing and ordinary fellow with little hair left on the head
A stranger on the street I live in few there even know of me
Not what one would call gregarious and anti social maybe.
A sort of self imposed fringe dweller we make our life choices some say
Though that does not apply to everybody it applies to me anyway
I do not go to community socials I sit at home and watch the t v
And as I sit there on the sofa my black cat comes and sits on my knee.
For many years a fringe dweller the way I live I do choose
Don't even fear the grim reaper in death what have I to lose
But is the town's wealthiest and most famous person that much more better than I
After all we are mere mortals we are all born to die.
Comments about A Fringe Dweller by Francis Duggan
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
- Still I RiseMaya Angelou
- The Road Not TakenRobert Frost
- If You Forget MePablo Neruda
- DreamsLangston Hughes
- Annabel LeeEdgar Allan Poe
- Stopping By Woods On A Snowy EveningRobert Frost
- IfRudyard Kipling
- Do Not Stand At My Grave And WeepMary Elizabeth Frye
- I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love YouPablo Neruda
- TelevisionRoald Dahl