The gold liquid
melts on the tongue
Sliding back down
the throat
Where it burns
like the sun
Helping the sadness
come to a close
But it’s just
buried deep
the whiskey hiding
it away
Burning it,
branding it in sleep
Awaiting to
rise a new day
Whiskey burns
is all he knows
As he gets older
Feels its warmth
welcomes it ever
helpful glow
Whiskey, the water
of life, never taunts
Only his ghosts
haunt his days, moments low
As the whiskey burns
its way down
To his shrivelled
liver, his darkened soul
His sadness of life
in whiskey he drowns
Hoping for the
salvation that will
never come
With each new
rising sun
Whiskey burns as
always
Whiskey burns his days
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...''
View all posts by Darren Greenidge
Caliburnus Rises 