Poetry

Going Under

See the man at sixty-five
Carrying his bags, well he tries
Back put out through old age
Caught up with him, his eyes betray

He’s passed by, offered no help
As children play and yell
He shuffles on home under the strain
The poor man feels much pain

This street is like all others
Neighbours ignored, even by brothers
Community no longer now exists
As people selfishly continue to live

This the governments making
Pushed them to limits breaking
Building homes on top of each other
Until everyone feels they’re smothered

This then creates a problem immense
Different types boxed in by a fence
Like an open prison is the design
All on the surface seems fine

But in reality a storm is brewing
Going under we are sinking
The country drowns in a sea of distrust
As we all teeter on the cusp

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Published by

Darren Greenidge

I'm a thinker, listener, a "question's pretty much everything" type of person. A seeker of knowledge, always restless, yet seeks the calm in life. I love writing in all forms and am in the process of completing a number of ongoing projects. I love the craft of writing and the possibilities it holds. A magic carpet through the mind. I love pretty much all creative arts, music, film and theatre the leading ones. Born in Hertfordshire in England, my family Irish, Welsh and English, I currently reside in Edinburgh, in Scotland. I'm drawn to coastal and mountain regions where I like to go to think and draw inspiration from. Ireland is a place that's dear to me, and I try to get back to see family and friends as much as possible. My interests are wide and broad, too many to mention here, but history, archaeology, criminology, music and film are just some of those things I love. I hope you enjoy my ramblings on here as that's what they are really. I'll let my fingers do the ''talking...''

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