Dirty old man


Just days are left
wrinkles a barren beset haze
a single thought, his only worry
to sit quietly and not to get
in anyone’s hurried uttered phrase
restrained in silence to stay.

Eyes that lost their dazzling glitter
a mouth that drips, a tap so free
ears that catch hardly a say,
but not a worry in his style,
the dirty old man is he.

The truth’s so near
he almost hears its howling vile
he senses a flurry in his fear
making ground.

The truth is here
there is no quiver
don’t make a sound.

Iakovos Garivaldis


2 thoughts on “Dirty old man”

  1. Δυστυχώς τα αγγλικά μου δεν μου επιτρέπουν να απολαύσω.
    Αλλά και έτσι, μου άρεσε το σύνολο !

    1. Αγαπητέ Φώτη,

      Καλά που δεν γνωρίζεις τ’ αγγλικά. Το ποίημα αυτό είναι ΑΠΑΙΣΙΟ-δοξο.

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