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dominic-simpsonPoems
This is about my Grandparents. They got married in the 1920's . . When one didn't get divorced. My Grandfather kept a diary, though he didn't know my Grandmother read it most days. He believed he'd been trapped into marriage, for much of their time together and was very bitter . . He failed to see what she was all about for a very long time . . Not the easiest marriage . . This is about that. Eiderdown Diary In previous prose The pages of my days Payed homage to my . . Crucified vows. What I thought love . Meant Ambition . . sold for scrap . . Traded for a shotgun wife's, Wed . locked . Bed . . . White lies in kisses A Mans need ******* two more souls From that sanitary bed before Work withdrew me . . . Fridays drank frustration dry Saturday screamed . . for Sundays relief . . My respite found in working weeks I drank her tears for years Bound by habitual responses Through disabled conversations . . Through polite goodnights I . . Sought Belief . . . Yet still washed Sundays Cars Then Pension planned retirement . . Though Circumstance a change My never mind Lady Beckoned . . Persuading The Cancer Degrading my Days away My shadow sipped her sun Became perfume in pages My Eiderdown Diary Morphine removed me Soothed me to Bed Time instead she said To understand . . Then Kissed my forehead . . Held me dead
0
Aug 9, 2013
Aug 9, 2013 at 12:33 PM UTC
Eiderdown Diary
This is about my Grandparents. They got married in the 1920's . . When one didn't get divorced. My Grandfather kept a diary, though he didn't know my Grandmother read it most days. He believed he'd been trapped into marriage, for much of their time together and was very bitter . . He failed to see what she was all about for a very long time . . Not the easiest marriage . . This is about that. Eiderdown Diary In previous prose The pages of my days Payed homage to my . . Crucified vows. What I thought love . Meant Ambition . . sold for scrap . . Traded for a shotgun wife's, Wed . locked . Bed . . . White lies in kisses A Mans need ******* two more souls From that sanitary bed before Work withdrew me . . . Fridays drank frustration dry Saturday screamed . . for Sundays relief . . My respite found in working weeks I drank her tears for years Bound by habitual responses Through disabled conversations . . Through polite goodnights I . . Sought Belief . . . Yet still washed Sundays Cars Then Pension planned retirement . . Though Circumstance a change My never mind Lady Beckoned . . Persuading The Cancer Degrading my Days away My shadow sipped her sun Became perfume in pages My Eiderdown Diary Morphine removed me Soothed me to Bed Time instead she said To understand . . Then Kissed my forehead . . Held me dead
dominic-simpson
Written by
dominic-simpson
English
Aug 9, 2013
Aug 9, 2013 at 12:33 PM UTC
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