A Motley Few
Poetry by an Octogenarian
by
Book Cover & Preview Text
EIGHTY-FIVE
The morning light struggled,
Not valiantly,
To filter through
Drawn blinds.
The winter thaw
Supposedly to
Had not.
Beneath the comforters
So thick with bulk,
A figure stirred.
A clutching hand
Made sure
Encompassed body’s
Periphery
Inured
Against the cold.
No head appeared,
Nor foot portrayed
By form.
So??
Which end was up?
Then
A gentle knock
Upon the bedroom door,
Sweet tender voice
Did say,
Grandpa – wake up
It’s your birthday!!
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Book Details
About the Book
His poetry stretches from his life as a boy in
About the Author
The author is an octogenarian who started attending classes on creative writing on Saturday afternoons at his local public library while he was in his seventies.
His poetry is subtly humorous and is generally about dogs and other animals and also people in his long life.