Poets logo


by Jerome Smith-Pula 5 months ago in sad poetry
Report Story

A private thought.

It wasn’t till long,

That bone-chilling song,

from the trumpeter blowing that tune.

I could feel your presence,

Tui in hand, not making any sense,

slurring words in the sultry afternoon.

A blunt ciggy with a glowing end,

blowing up smoke in our uncle’s den,

but you said, “She’ll be right.”

“She wasn’t right,” Uncle said,

as he put you in a headlock on your bed,

and told you a piece of his mind.

From then, into the army you went

you said, a time well spent.

I remember that story with every detail.

Those days in the afternoon sun,

speaking about everything you’ve done.

Just a thought, I remember, oh so very well.

sad poetry

About the author

Jerome Smith-Pula

Been fascinated with writing since I was 11 years old. I'm interested in crime to feel-good articles. Mostly crime.

instagram: jsp_the_curator

Reader insights

Be the first to share your insights about this piece.

How does it work?

Add your insights


There are no comments for this story

Be the first to respond and start the conversation.

Sign in to comment

    Find us on social media

    Miscellaneous links

    • Explore
    • Contact
    • Privacy Policy
    • Terms of Use
    • Support

    © 2022 Creatd, Inc. All Rights Reserved.