Array ( [sid] => 141325 [catid] => 1 [aid] => mick [title] => A.K.A. Pops [time] => 2008-04-02 20:53:55 [hometext] => This poem is about a very good friend. I enjoyed many years with him. In some ways, he helped me to become the man I am. I still miss him. [bodytext] => A.K.A. Pops

He said, “I left home at age 14 to work,
and I’ve been working ever since.”
I asked, “Why?” He says, “Because,
that’s how it was.” He told me where
he came from, although I don’t know where,
where is now. I had met him at my Aunt’s.
She always called him “Pops.” Probably in
reference to his having several children.
We had grown to be good friends. I’d visit his home
and entering the back door, I’d say, “Hello Pops!”
Now I don’t know at which point I stopped
using his surname and started using “Pops,”
but it seemed right at the time. He didn’t mind.
He’d say, “Come on in, would you like a cup of tea?”
He always had a smile on his face.
Then we’d play checkers or just watch the news.
I’d ask, “Have you seen Berkie or Bobby?” He’d say,
“I went over town, but nothing was going on.” Well,
this ritual went on for 30 years, and “Pops” was up in age.
Did I mention he had a son? But he didn’t have a son.
But he did have a son. Then again, maybe I helped fill a void,
and if I did I hope I did it right. At 90-years-old, Pops died
after having lost his wife a few years earlier.
Days after the funeral I felt really empty, but mostly numb.
He still says, “Come on in, would you like a cup of tea?”
I guess I wasn’t ready to lose my friend.
“Goodnight Pops…”
[comments] => 2 [counter] => 214 [topic] => 52 [informant] => ZiggyB [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 9 [ratings] => 2 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => goodbyepoetry ) Your Poetry Dot Com - A.K.A. Pops


A.K.A. Pops
Date: Wednesday, 2nd April 2008 @ 08:53:55 PM AEST
Topic: Sad Poetry

Contributed By: ZiggyB
A.K.A. Pops

He said, “I left home at age 14 to work,
and I’ve been working ever since.”
I asked, “Why?” He says, “Because,
that’s how it was.” He told me where
he came from, although I don’t know where,
where is now. I had met him at my Aunt’s.
She always called him “Pops.” Probably in
reference to his having several children.
We had grown to be good friends. I’d visit his home
and entering the back door, I’d say, “Hello Pops!”
Now I don’t know at which point I stopped
using his surname and started using “Pops,”
but it seemed right at the time. He didn’t mind.
He’d say, “Come on in, would you like a cup of tea?”
He always had a smile on his face.
Then we’d play checkers or just watch the news.
I’d ask, “Have you seen Berkie or Bobby?” He’d say,
“I went over town, but nothing was going on.” Well,
this ritual went on for 30 years, and “Pops” was up in age.
Did I mention he had a son? But he didn’t have a son.
But he did have a son. Then again, maybe I helped fill a void,
and if I did I hope I did it right. At 90-years-old, Pops died
after having lost his wife a few years earlier.
Days after the funeral I felt really empty, but mostly numb.
He still says, “Come on in, would you like a cup of tea?”
I guess I wasn’t ready to lose my friend.
“Goodnight Pops…”


This poem is Copyright © ZiggyB


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