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Submitted on
May 1, 2013
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1.4 KB


5 (who?)
I know a certain, battered down priest.
He shares his house with God and no one else
And his voice rattles rough like angry rain
With every cigarette he has ever smoked
And all the whiskey he drank to kill the pain
Reflects his worn out, tired eyes.

He staggers aimless from the summer to the fall.
And in each bottle, he hopes to drown the doubt
And shut the cold, hateful sunlight out.
He sees his flock fade and waste away
And fewer and fewer turn up each Sunday
And in a little while, they'll be no one there at all.

He walks past his Sunday school, on one concrete day
And he scowls at every parent striding by in the gloomy grey
Because he envies them, and hates them all the same
Because he is sixty five with no one left to carry on his name.

His brother died a drunkard, at the age of twenty five
His sister died in the womb before she was alive
It broke his mother's heart when he said he heard the Call
She could see this future in him, the misery and all.

And at the end, he gasps his last, in a down and dirty room
His old guitar battered and long since out of tune
And he looks toward his Saviour that is hanging on the wall
And wonders if he made any difference at all.
A poem about an old, tired priest with not much left to live for.
Add a Comment:
xLuckyxFridayx13x May 2, 2013  Hobbyist General Artist
This is a very moving piece with great flow. Nice work!
I appreciate that. Thanks.
xLuckyxFridayx13x May 6, 2013  Hobbyist General Artist
No problem. :)
Love it. Good subject matter, naturally flowing style, lack of rigid/awkward rhyming scheme and manages to tell a story spanning quite a while in a few stanzas. Great stuff :D
Thank you. Please read my other work if you have the time.
hadasaugh May 1, 2013  Professional General Artist
Hauntingly sad with strong visualizations. Thank you!
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