The Wolverhampton Wanderer Poem by Della Perry
The Wolverhampton Wanderer
Where it is cold and damp
Where it is dark
Where smell is dank and old
Where the birds no longer sing
Below the knowing clouds
Where I dream of that place I once called home.
Where the faces are unfriendly
Where the atmosphere is thick
Where my senses itch with unease
Where there are echoes of unspoken words
Below the burning stars
Where I yearn for that place I once called home.
Where there is no air
Where there is no warmth
Where no family does exist
Where the sun refuses to ever shine
Below the raging skies
Where I return to that place I once called home.
For when life is hard
I know I can never leave it behind
That special home town of mine.
say, Della, i can't decide which home you are referring to at the end of your Poet's Notes. hmm? the home which is no longer home aka your old home town, OR the home you have made now? ? ? For when life is hard I know I can never leave it behind That special home town of mine. .......so, do you WISH you could 'leave it behind' aka 'forget about it'? ? ? special good or special bad. i'd say this is a bit open to the Reader's interpretation, which in this case, is not bad. it's not like it is the instructions for making the cake i heard you were going to make for ME! ! now, THAT is IMPORTANT to get 'right'. also, i think the picture you paint of your old home town has to do mostly with its yearly weather, not with the emotional/social atmosphere, but i may be wrong. a nice poem in any case. i'll put it into 2017's January showcase, Section B. the readers there can wonder about it and at it. thanks. bri :)
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4/23/2024 9:00:22 AM # 1.0.0.1119
if you ever go back, say hello to all the Wulfrunians.....for me. are they VERY hairy? bri ;)