The radio burbles as
the gin and tonic
subsides - apparently - but
I know better, for
In the morning, like an ambush
It will wait for me to
Cough.
Bloody retch and...
Cough. Again.
I walk through fields with
Mum and Dad, hedges alive
with summers drone of bees
and berries, fat, juices
on my fingers, lips, shirt.
The fox across the field
Red. So so red! .Stunning in the
Evening sun
GOD!
Then gag on the thought
Of breakfast.
Welcome to
Alcoholia
Hi,
Big Issue?
Like all good poety, this one seems to begat others, yearning to break free..enjoyed it.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Wow, this is good, very emotive.....