A NEW PUBLICATION:
MODERN WORKS 2020 ~ 10 – POEM 8
To celebrate the launch of my NEW booklet containing 16 diverse poems and essays entitled : MODERN WORKS 2020 – I am happy to offer a signed, printed hard-copy and FREE worldwide delivery. All but one of these 16 pieces are BRAND NEW WORKS completed during 2020.
This latest collection of written verse – MODERN WORKS 2020 – comes in the usual edenbray-pamphlet A5 format and is printed professionally and beautifully in a 36 page booklet style publication with a cream-stock card cover that I have self-published to my own specifications.
I am able to offer my 2020 Annual of Verse at an opening price of just £7.00 inc. post and packing for shipping to literally anywhere in the world. So please use the PAYPAL Link below to make your purchase or you can contact us by leaving a message in the comments box at the foot of this page or please email me directly at:-email@example.com – I would sincerely appreciate hearing from you and we will make sure you get a copy of my new book/pamphlet and also keep you up to date with any developments regarding my work. – (please indicate if you would rather NOT receive emails concerning my work when you order)
PAYPAL LINK – TO ORDER YOUR COPY OF – MODERN WORKS 2020
Many thanks ~ edenbray
Finally, to Celebrate the launch of my NEW BOOK I am posting all 16 poems over 16 consecutive days RIGHT HERE on my edenbray-BLOG-SITE B – TODAY – the Poem – RESOLUTION : ~
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MODERN WORKS 2020
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RESOLUTION .. .
It was always easier when the burnt sun dried the perspiration on your neck
The old boy shuffled the cards of the deck, fingered, worn, creased, greased, flecked
It seemed with traces of blood but it was just the pattern on the back, those red specks
He wore grey, seemed like flannel slacks, they must have cost a pretty penny
When they was new, probably had a jacket to match, the old boys name was Lenny
It reminded me of a Steinbeck tale about a smart guy and a retard, I read it back in ’70
If I kick anymore stones Mr Jones my shoes will gape and I won’t be able to work at all
Or pay back the old man who collects his winnings in an old can he leaves by the wall
I got tired of being behind, that bottle of glass empty, my winning hand buried, I call
The old man he just smiles conceited, he sees I’m struggling in the game, life’s a drain
He’s seen that gnawing pain behind the eyes before, that’s his cue to increase the strain
When the ice flowe cracks, your enemy attacks and you turn again to the barley grain
Which burns fiercely in your soul, it burns a hole right through, creating an intense light
To see you through another night, and the old guy sits shuffling his cards, sat on a crate
Shoes never looked so down, consorting with the dusty ground, you want to clear the slate
But sleep denied is a victim you meet in the morning, old fella he’s taken now to yawning
If he gave you a sign or a warning, old bugger’s been dealing cards since day’s dawning
So drink up, hand another dollar over that’s another fond thought later you’ll be pawning
O misery, I drink to thee, you wear my smile upon your heavy, hard and wrinkled skin
That old geezer with his stack has contrived to convince us all that what we do, it isn’t sin
And the cards now coming good, I got 3 jacks and an ace, perhaps today is the day I win!
.. . ONLY SOMEONE WITH DEPENDENCIES TRULY UNDERSTANDS DEPENDENCY . ..