BROKEN
- Maureen K Clifford
- Posts: 8159
- Joined: Tue Nov 09, 2010 10:31 am
- Location: Ipswich - Paul Pisasale country and home of the Ipswich Poetry Feast
- Contact:
BROKEN
BROKEN … Maureen Clifford © The Scribbly Bark Poet
It was survival of the fittest; it was just a step beyond
all the rows of churchyard stones that had waited for so long
surrounded by broken bottles, their supernatural song
had caused the metamorphose of the man –
count to ten and overcome it if you can.
He saw the sad faced women as they walked the paths of grey.
He saw the pity on their face as they all looked his way.
Another drunk, a yobbo, one who had seen better days
but then he saw the point of impact claim
their faces as they saw this bloke was maimed.
A step beyond the churchyard stones he’d seen horrors of war.
He came to be here with his mates, the ones who’d gone before
whilst he remained, a shattered man with nothing to live for.
A bottle was right now his closest friend.
Oblivion it offered at day’s end.
Each day he made his pilgrimage and passed through the lych gates
and sat beneath the gum tree’s shade – sharing time with old mates
the brown bottle with solace filled removing fear and hates
'a pointless life' some say. They may be right.
But they don’t live the horrors of his night.
It was survival of the fittest; it was just a step beyond
all the rows of churchyard stones that had waited for so long
surrounded by broken bottles, their supernatural song
had caused the metamorphose of the man –
count to ten and overcome it if you can.
He saw the sad faced women as they walked the paths of grey.
He saw the pity on their face as they all looked his way.
Another drunk, a yobbo, one who had seen better days
but then he saw the point of impact claim
their faces as they saw this bloke was maimed.
A step beyond the churchyard stones he’d seen horrors of war.
He came to be here with his mates, the ones who’d gone before
whilst he remained, a shattered man with nothing to live for.
A bottle was right now his closest friend.
Oblivion it offered at day’s end.
Each day he made his pilgrimage and passed through the lych gates
and sat beneath the gum tree’s shade – sharing time with old mates
the brown bottle with solace filled removing fear and hates
'a pointless life' some say. They may be right.
But they don’t live the horrors of his night.
Last edited by Maureen K Clifford on Thu Mar 05, 2015 7:53 pm, edited 2 times in total.
Check out The Scribbly Bark Poets blog site here -
http://scribblybarkpoetry.blogspot.com.au/
I may not always succeed in making a difference, but I will go to my grave knowing I at least tried.
http://scribblybarkpoetry.blogspot.com.au/
I may not always succeed in making a difference, but I will go to my grave knowing I at least tried.
Re: BROKEN
Very interesting Maureen but one must read between the line to see the truth about what some of these peoples have encountered.
Bill Williams
Bill Williams
- Cropduster
- Posts: 604
- Joined: Sun Jan 18, 2015 1:13 pm
Re: BROKEN
A reminder, Maureen, that we can be quick to judge without understanding or compassion.
I can relate to this poem, and I found it both moving and confronting, as we can all at times fail to see the humanity.
I can relate to this poem, and I found it both moving and confronting, as we can all at times fail to see the humanity.
- Maureen K Clifford
- Posts: 8159
- Joined: Tue Nov 09, 2010 10:31 am
- Location: Ipswich - Paul Pisasale country and home of the Ipswich Poetry Feast
- Contact:
Re: BROKEN
It is easy to judge when we don't walk in other peoples shoes
Every person we meet has a story to tell

Check out The Scribbly Bark Poets blog site here -
http://scribblybarkpoetry.blogspot.com.au/
I may not always succeed in making a difference, but I will go to my grave knowing I at least tried.
http://scribblybarkpoetry.blogspot.com.au/
I may not always succeed in making a difference, but I will go to my grave knowing I at least tried.
-
- Posts: 6946
- Joined: Sun Oct 31, 2010 12:08 pm
- Location: Here
Re: BROKEN
I think the long lines slow the pace, which seems to me very suitable for the mood here. Good work Maureen.
When I worked in the inner city of Sydney in the late 60s and early 70s, the streets of Ultimo, Haymarket and Central Railway were "home" to dozens of down and out blokes on the brown muscat and metho.
One little niggle, sorry
I think you meant " metamorphose " in line 4.
When I worked in the inner city of Sydney in the late 60s and early 70s, the streets of Ultimo, Haymarket and Central Railway were "home" to dozens of down and out blokes on the brown muscat and metho.
One little niggle, sorry

Neville
" Prose is description, poetry is presence " Les Murray.
" Prose is description, poetry is presence " Les Murray.
- Maureen K Clifford
- Posts: 8159
- Joined: Tue Nov 09, 2010 10:31 am
- Location: Ipswich - Paul Pisasale country and home of the Ipswich Poetry Feast
- Contact:
Re: BROKEN
Thank you Neville and thanks for spotting the error as well 

Check out The Scribbly Bark Poets blog site here -
http://scribblybarkpoetry.blogspot.com.au/
I may not always succeed in making a difference, but I will go to my grave knowing I at least tried.
http://scribblybarkpoetry.blogspot.com.au/
I may not always succeed in making a difference, but I will go to my grave knowing I at least tried.
- Shelley Hansen
- Posts: 2269
- Joined: Sun May 04, 2014 5:39 pm
- Location: Maryborough, Queensland
- Contact:
Re: BROKEN
Very thought-provoking Maureen. We look at people every day and don't know the trials they have or are facing. A good reminder that it costs nothing to be kind.
Cheers
Shelley
Cheers
Shelley
Shelley Hansen
Lady of Lines
http://www.shelleyhansen.com
"Look fer yer profits in the 'earts o' friends,
fer 'atin' never paid no dividends."
(CJ Dennis "The Mooch o' Life")
Lady of Lines
http://www.shelleyhansen.com
"Look fer yer profits in the 'earts o' friends,
fer 'atin' never paid no dividends."
(CJ Dennis "The Mooch o' Life")
- Catherine Lee
- Posts: 1384
- Joined: Mon May 14, 2012 9:47 pm
- Location: Thailand
Re: BROKEN
Absolutely! Kindness is sometimes underrated these days, yet so important. Good poem Maureen, and a reminder to us all that we should never judge or generalise.