The Cinder Path

This is one of two poems which I submitted for my Open University Creative Writing Course. A couple of people who've read it have mentioned that the metre is quite difficult. However, when I read it aloud it makes perfect sense. So I'm going to say that the fault lies with the readers and not the poem! Haha.

The Cinder Path

There is a cinder path that leads to a pebble shore, where

Daddy taught me how to skim flat stones, when I was only four.

Where he sat me on his strong knee and said I must be very brave,

then told me he was leaving. That he was going away to war.

There is a cinder path that leads to a village school, where

I first kissed Jacquie on the lips, and thought I was so cool.

Panting hand in hand to her front door, not feeling very brave,

we dashed upstairs to her room. Giggling at her parent’s "no boys" rule.

There is a cinder path that leads to a cancer ward, where

my mother's shrivelled husk lay weeping, clutching my get-well card.

She said I have to go my darling boy, you must be very brave,

then a nurse drew the curtain. Like some tawdry peppermint green shroud.

There is a cinder path that leads to a factory wall, where

I puffed my last cigarette and realised, like latter day Saint Paul.

I must forsake these indolent grey boondocks, I would be very brave,

head for the Bright Lights, Big City. Or stay and achieve sweet sod all.