The Wino
I met an old man three months ago today
Outside the liquor store, a guitar he played
He was a poor man, didn’t have a dime
And stood on that corner, slurring the rhyme
******
About the good life was the story he’d tell
Until a bottle of wine made his life hell
I saw him each week as I purchased my wine
“Son,” he would say, “it’s just a matter of time”
******
“They call me The Wino but I remember the days
Before a good job and family were lost in the haze
Of climbing the ladder, and my pickled mind
Nothing more important than my next glass of wine”
******
Last week, around the bottle his fingers curled
As he told me the story of his broken world
Of how tops in the business was so hard to be
And how the same can happen to you and me
******
The big promotion, he said, seemed so fine
But just gave more money to spend on the wine
He’d climbed to the top and made his way in
But when battling the bottle, he could never win
******
After ten years of drowning he died today
But left me a note, he had something to say
The words he wrote on that paper were these
“Put down that bottle, son, or you’ll turn out like me”
******
About the Creator
Gerald Holmes
Born on the east coast of Canada. Travelled the world for my job and discovered that kindness is the most attractive feature in any human.
R.I.P. Tom Brad. Please click here to be moved by his stories.
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Comments (7)
A great story. Really hope many of us will listen and learn. So many vices that turn us the wrong way.
I remember this and enjoyed the reread. And now I get to leave a comment. On point and so well written. Well done, bro.
Addiction is so scary. Everything just crashes down so fast. Awesome poem!
Too late. Not concerning the wine. I never learned to like the stuff. It's just too late.
Well that was certainly a sucker punch. Our society is based around social drinking, and it’s fine as long as you’re productive, making other people money. The moment you’re not in the rat race the rules change. Too bad that life can drive people to drink, just to unwind. You’ve created spot-on social commentary with this poem, and I’m going to be thinking about it for a while.
Is this not a song? Not like a song I’ve heard, but one I’d like to hear. The meter is perfect, so are the rhymes, to fit into a folk tune a la Bob Dylan. So sad, the ending. I’m not sure what I expected going in, but the peaceful expression of his passing surprised me. "I saw him each week as I purchased my wine “Son,” he would say, “it’s just a matter of time" This is my favorite couplet, though I love the whole poem. It encapsulates the heart perfectly. I truly enjoyed this, Gerald. What a wonderful treat to see this in Paul’s Deep Cuts.
Damn, Gerald...I'm glad I read this...it's beautifully done...but damn that's a kicker right to the emotions. Loved it though! and so very true!