VISITATION

 

I wasn’t there at the docks

of Merseyside – it was Dad

decked out in fireman’s garb.

 

His mate perished under an

imploding wall - Dad stored

images in his mind and when

 

demons came he took it out

on us – although he never

cussed – just acted strange  - 

 

we kept profiles low until his

ghosts had flown, rearranging

his mind, foregoing fieriness

◄ NIPPING OUT

CHOPS ►

Comments

Profile image

Philipos

Fri 10th Jul 2020 11:54

Abdul, Isobel, Jennifer, MC, Po, Stephen, Tom, Thank you all very much for the likes and supportive comments. Appreciated. P. 👍

Profile image

Abdul Ahmad

Thu 9th Jul 2020 10:24

This poem beautifully describes how the behaviour of service men witnessing tragedy in the course of carrying out their duty to keep us safe alters and affects those who live with them.

Profile image

Tom

Thu 9th Jul 2020 10:15

Great writing P. "until his ghosts had flown" is a fantastically pleasing phrase.

Profile image

M.C. Newberry

Thu 9th Jul 2020 01:17

The personal horror of living with PTSD is captured in these few lines.

If you wish to post a comment you must login.

This site uses cookies. By continuing to browse, you are agreeing to our use of cookies.

Find out more Hide this message