I am an early baby boomer and as such have experienced a lot of change. When I started out in life we had none of the conveniences that people have today. No television, telephone or computers. Very few, if any, electrical appliances. We had an ice box and heated our home with coal. There was no indoor plumbing and we used an outhouse. Of course, we didn't know any different at the time, so it wasn't that we missed these things. Life has been an adventure and I have had many of those. Not all good. This little book concentrates on the earlier years of my life. I write different genres but when writing poetry, I prefer a simple format and clarity. Ratings and comments are most welcome.
From the book:
They came home one cold winter afternoon
And found her laying
On the bedroom floor, passed out
Among the empty wine bottles.
The smell of chicken emanated,
From a boiling pot upon the kitchen stove.
The older boy ventured over
And lifted the lid on the pot.
He immediately dropped it,
His hand upon his mouth, trying to stifle
The choking sounds that escaped,
As he ran outside.
The younger boy
Hesitantly, went over
To see what had caused such a reaction
In his brother.
Within the pot and to his dismay,
Was Charlie, the pet rooster,
In all his entirety,
Head, guts and feathers.
Of his sibling.