Tiger Riding for Beginners

Traveling Poet Philosopher & Occasional Wiseacre

POEM: Exiled

Posted on October 3, 2019 by B Gourley

I sit atop a tiny isle.
These rags I wear were never in style.
Impiety ‘s not my only sin.
I took no tonic with my gin.
I never called, hated the phone.
A table for two, yet dined alone,

and now I do once more.

4 thoughts on “POEM: Exiled”

bothellboy on October 3, 2019 at 6:50 pm said:

powerful words and images.

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- B Gourley on October 3, 2019 at 6:50 pm said:
  
  Thanks
  
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mehjabinh on October 4, 2019 at 1:36 am said:

Beautiful and intense.

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- B Gourley on October 4, 2019 at 2:31 am said:
  
  Thank you
  
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4 thoughts on “POEM: Exiled”

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