The Volunteer – new poem


© David Milligan-Croft.


The old man,

Shouts at cars

Hissing past,

In the warm

September rain.


He pivots ’round,

On his one good leg,

Outside the Volunteer Bar.


The stench of fags

And stale piss

Cling to his shabby

Tweed suit.


Discovering a pocket

Full of puke

He karate chops

Thin air.



N.B. For the benefit of my American readers, ‘fags’, in this context, is a colloquialism for cigarettes.


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Filed under Books, Contemporary Arts, Creativity, Disability, Ideas, Inspiration, Poetry, Writing

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