Sleeping With My Gun Poem by Randy McClave

Sleeping With My Gun



I sit alone edgy and scared in my room
With my gun loaded and resting on my lap,
I am prepared for the upcoming and foretold doom
So, I again refuse to take a nap.
Without my weapon I am panic-stricken
I don't know how else to protect myself, or to make a stand,
Without it, some have called me a coward and a chicken
That is why, that I must always have a gun in my hand.
I will constantly patrol up and down my living room floor
While occasionally peering through the window's blind,
I will check and I will recheck the locks on my door
And every bush and tree, I have already looked behind.
I will go to bed with my gun always at my side
Who knows someone might want to harm me, I think nervously,
In my home someone might break in and then try to hide
But, regardless of that, I have never felt so free.
During the night, I always have my nightmares
And in those dreams someone is wanting to do me harm,
Everything that I own, they want to make it theirs
By killing me, because in my dreams I don't have a firearm.
I wake up in the morning after my worrisome rest
Now for me another day of fear is ready to begin,
So, I grab my gun, as though I am in the old wild west
I have been told that outside my door there is nothing but sin.
How did our forefathers survived in their day
Did they sleep with pitchforks or stones or with sticks,
Maybe because of God and their faith all they did was pray
Or maybe in their socks, they had placed heavy bricks.
Now I wonder about the people that I pass by
What type of guns on their body do they have concealed,
Or maybe they are carrying a bomb wanting me to die
So, I now look to my left and my right trying find a shield.
I will always look and search for that probable assassin
I have worried so much that I have perspired,
The holster on my belt I make sure again to fasten
Now I just wait, for someone's gun to be fired.

Randy L. McClave

Sunday, August 7, 2016
Topic(s) of this poem: gun,paranoid,scared
POET'S NOTES ABOUT THE POEM
I don't have have a gun, never have and never will. I fired guns, my dad was a sniper in WW2 (after the war, he hated guns) . I had a brother-in-law who killed himself with a handgun. But, that's my opinion.
COMMENTS OF THE POEM
READ THIS POEM IN OTHER LANGUAGES
Randy McClave

Randy McClave

Ashland, Kentucky
Close
Error Success