Friday, September 10, 2021

Waiting for Lunch by John Drudge

With hopeless 
And grim humour
I’ve been reading
Too much Schopenhauer
With too much pessimism
Seeping under the door
The evening news
A sideshow of the damned
The town square 
An impoverishment of prayer
Fanatics of habit
With a tacit 
Of spiritual suffering
It’s all too much
So I wait
As Beckett waits
For nothing
In the starkness 
Of my dilution 

John is a social worker working in the field of disability management and holds degrees in social work, rehabilitation services, and psychology.  He is the author of four books of poetry: “March” (2019), “The Seasons of Us” (2019), New Days (2020), and Fragments (2021). His work has appeared widely in numerous literary journals, magazines, and anthologies internationally. John is also a Pushcart Prize and Best of the Net nominee and lives in Caledon Ontario, Canada with his wife and two children.

No comments:

Post a Comment

Drunk Haze by George Gad Economou

swilling down bourbon till the very end of memories,  stumbling my way out of the barroom engirdled by fancy dinner-goers in a bar not for d...