'I've had a hard life'
He said of his latest strife
'I've had to scratch it out'
'All my old man did was drink and clout'
'Then I boxed in a travelling troup
And wandered Australia in that pursuit'
As he sat in the interview room
And looked at the floor in his gloom
We finished the interview tape
Fingerprinted and placed him in a cell to wait
He went to court and received his penalty citation
And we escorted him back to the police station
And he was released from the police cell
The last I saw of him was walking out to his private hell
Leaving town as he had done a hundred towns before
With no prospect of getting from life anything more.
© Paul Warren Poetry
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem