Someday. {Poetry}

 

 

Kiss my sleeping children for me.

Humbly and utterly lost,

Christmas is in the air.

Save us all from Satan’s power.

 

Humbly and utterly lost,

Playing with bombs,

Save us all from Satan’s power;

Me and my drum

 

Playing with bombs,

We’ll have to struggle on somehow.

Me and my drum;

I am a poor boy too,

 

We’ll have to struggle on somehow.

I’ll be making gravy.

I am a poor boy too.

If the Fates allow,

 

I’ll be making gravy.

Christmas is in the air;

If the Fates allow,

Kiss my sleeping children for me.

 

*****

 {Gravy.}

 

Paul Giles
Paul Giles is a poet currently based in Bogotá, Colombia, where he's a freelance writer for trip.me, teaches English, and keeps on saying he's staying here for one more month. He grew up in a number of rural towns around New South Wales and South Australia, studied English Literature and Creative Writing at the University of Sydney, and has subsequently lived as a poet and worked as an English teacher and/or cocktail bartender in Sydney, Seoul and Auckland. You can contact Paul via [email protected], and read his blog here.
Paul Giles

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