Just a poem that I based on a country song that I heard a couple of weeks ago on the way to church one Sunday morning. I have heard it once or twice since then but never did hear who the artist is that sings it.


I wish we were fishing from a river bank.
I wish this was a river bank instead of a cemetery.
We could go fishing like we used to do.
Now you lye here in your cold grave.
I can only talk and imagine what you would say in return.
"I went to town yesterday—bought a new shotgun.
Maybe next time I come--I'll show it to you.
Right now I'm getting mighty blue.
I think I will go fishing and wet a line may catch a fish for you—possibly even two."
"Hi Hon! I'm back again—Like I promised I brought my new gun.
I caught you a fish yesterday and ate it too.
I cooked it just like you used to do.
Do you remember how we ate those fish that you cooked for me?
I get so tired carrying on these one-sided-conversations with you, but I wanted you to see
My new gun and hear it the first time I shoot it too.
Listen now, as I come to join you.
Now, I breathe my last breath of air in despair.

Poetry by Damon
Read 809 times
Written on 2008-11-05 at 05:50

Tags Gone  Love  Death 

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Kathy Lockhart
wow Damon what a sad story written very well. There are so many lonely people who have lost their soulmates that sometimes it seems the only way out of their misery is to take their on lives. This has many levels to it Damon. It's like reading the ending of a story where the reader has to imagine the rest. well done.

what a poem, your writings are really something. Thanks for sharing this. Isn't it a pain when you hear something once or twice and wonder if it will be played again and it disappears. That is so annoying. Thanks for sharing this.