yet another high school poem. i can't help it, i like thse!
This is another one of my first poems. Surprisingly, its about trying to live a productive life knowing that my father was/is a failure...
It is always hard to let go of anything, be it youth or places or loved ones.
In the 1930's it was not unusual to see large numbers of ponies,herded up for working the mines.
There is so much said in this piece that it is best for the reader to interpret it for themself.
Ageism.
This one is old. I must have been 13 or 14 when I wrote it, if I was even that.
Life is like a house with many rooms. When one door closes, it is not necessarily forgotten.
Written when I was angry with War Office,regarding under age Soldiers of W.W.1,who were often shot for desertion etc. Today they would be treated as cases of trauma.
