The Broken Man 2k10

O spectators come not one, come not all. For alcohol drown out his faintest of calls. No safty nets pamper his falls. Behind the scenes 'tis no act, though fact. Not seen, the seemingly defeated and much depleted broken man. Yea, an utterly indefinite free faller. Not ere has he felt so broken nor felt e'er smaller. A fee thou need not pay! Justice says the show shall be closed today, as 'twas yesterday and every day. The curtains shall not be drawn; He is far too withdrawn. Hark! Inner demons are herd viciously growling and howling. Though the presence of demons though not he evil. A civil war wages deeply within himself; Shards the remnats of his whilom self.

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Elizabeth Wesley

Date: 9/13/2011 9:02:00 PM

Your description of the demons of alcohol fascinate and makes us realize how devastating it is to a life. I have never known one and can only imagine how it is.

Thvia Shetley

Date: 8/2/2011 9:39:00 AM

I truly enjoyed this piece, I wrote one with somewhat parallel sentiments called "A jaded man". You might appreciate it as I have this one. It has a partner poem called "A scorned woman"

Caroline Cécile Delacroix

Date: 7/7/2011 10:40:00 AM

I believe the category for your poem would "Free verse". There is rhyming, but it doesn't follow a particular pattern, that is why. Caroline. :)

Anthony O. Mitchell Jr.
Date: 7/13/2011 9:43:00 AM

Thank you so much.

Caroline Cécile Delacroix

Date: 7/7/2011 10:37:00 AM

It is a sad write, but it is so well written! Your wording, the imagery they portray expresses well the state of the broken man. No, he is not evil, but he needs to win that civil war, and see himself as God sees him is what I feel like saying from reading which I really enjoyed. You are a great writer. Thanks for sharing. And thank you for your kind comments on my poem. Caroline.

Anthony O. Mitchell Jr.
Date: 7/13/2011 9:47:00 AM

My pleasure.

Judy Ball

Date: 7/6/2011 8:00:00 AM

What a poignant piece this is. And how very true. Substance abuse kills slowly from the inside out. First it takes away your money. Then your self worth. Then your friends. And lastly what's left of your life. Good job here. God Bless, JB

Anthony O. Mitchell Jr.

Date: 7/6/2011 2:30:00 AM

Please! Take a look at this poem and tell what type of poem I should be calling it. Thanks for reading me.