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The Day Began – Again

 

 

 

The day began

upon my first alert

of shifting shadow

in my shaded room.

 

A shape, familiar

a breath, heavy,

weighted with whiskey,

and whisper,

“Death.”

 

A muzzle, stretched,

horizontal,

belched a blast,

a whizzzzzzz,

a raspy curse,

“Damn.”

 

The day began

upon my first alert

of a blazing hole

in my shaded room.

Again.

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32 thoughts on “The Day Began – Again

    • Thanks for stopping by. Us Henry”s (Heinrich) have to stick together. Glad you enjoyed it. I realize this piece might be a killjoy for a Pub poem, but the MC does get to live to drink another day…

  1. really nice man…the whisper of death made me shiver…and then the damn after was a bit of laughin release…the hole in the shade is a great image to end on as well…

  2. I have heard the name for awhile now and I still don’t know who that is. But, your poem is well written and wish i could see the connection to the person in order to capture what I’am not in on. But, non the less a great read.

  3. hedgewitch says:

    Dark, Henry–and down to earth true–been around too many close to me who liked to have Jack or Bud over for the Breakfast of Champions–not too damn glamorous in the end. Good write.

  4. i thought of bukowski as well when i saw the pic…and i know from family background and the environment i grew up how much harm it can cause…well penned henry

  5. I am made aware of the amazing control of the writer, as I read this piece. This is no runaway write – each word has been carefully placed, each line weighed. Really extraordinary writing.

    • Now I like these comments. You can keep coming back Kerry:)
      But really, thank you. I appreciate your kind words, and yes keep coming back, even f you don’t like something, let me know why. Have a great day!

  6. Nicely done. This leads from fullness to emptiness, thru space/time into actual room thru to something else, a space in the soul that seems to be growing a hole. There’s a sadness here, of course, as well as an awareness of the defeated soul who occupies such emptiness. I wonder whether such awareness itself is the beginning of the new, though it seems it is an end. But emptiness can liberate as much as terrify, I’ve heard. A hole is a possibility for opening up into greater and deeper awareness. At least holes in the soul. In a house, they need to have a window put in their place or perhaps new plywood.

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