King of The Jungle
(For Francie 1956-2009)
He went back to look for his youth,
In echoes, shadows and stains,
Back to where his memory was more easily seduced,
Walking in verdant lanes.
He recognized in the moist and smoky air,
His legacy in others’ hearts,
An undying image of his flair.
Smelling the past in dilapidated rooms,
As if in his own personal museum,
While Time plundered all our lives,
He remained behind the screen.
Escaping the ravages of the cynical eye,
He hid innocence wrapped in light,
From an unforgiving sky.
In the darkness, his mother and father calling him,
As they used to, for his tea,
He was forced to finally admit, that,
Freedom is only useful to the free.
No Hollywood boulevard pavement stone,
Shall mark his starring role,
His time among us, will linger forever,
In the mercury of our soul.
Dermot McGarthy's Other Poems
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Poet's Notes about The Poem
Comments about this poem (King of The Jungle by Dermot McGarthy )
- Retracing Memories, RoseAnn V. Shawiak
- The Unimpressed Poet, Hebert Logerie
- Poetical Life Meanings, RoseAnn V. Shawiak
- Mere Words, RoseAnn V. Shawiak
- Occasions Of Promise, RoseAnn V. Shawiak
- A LITTLE PRAYER, Vinaya Joseph
- Even for bluff, hasmukh amathalal
- For you - Mother, gajanan mishra
- My Morning Glory, Refa Kris
- The Beast, Shannon Paterson
Poem of the Day
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994)
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(7 May 1861 – 7 August 1941)
- Heather Burns
(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)