Because Of Fear 2012

Because Of Fear


Ruled by fear, he sits at home.

Not out in years

Nor in a dentist’s chair,

Teeth rotting, missing,

Dread of falling down the stairs

(Three or four at his front door)

He sits at home, the TV going

While assuring those he phones

That he’s not really watching.


In an armchair he calls throne

He sits alone,

The throne not king’s –

More beggar/clown.

His drinking’s slowed,

His ‘pot’s expanding;

Cigarettes smell up his pants

And everything else in the house.

The legs go like an old, old man’s –

Weakened by disuse.


A man who once had perfect pitch,

Once in demand by groups and bands,

Perfect ‘time’, his bass sublime;

Those gifted hands

Have stopped, a clock unwound.

He’ll never wind it up again

Unless a wonder intercedes.

He needs

a miracle.


Because Of Fear 1.10.2012

Vaguely About Music;

Arlene Corwin




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