Phil Roberts


I am 64 and loves cats, rock music, and horror fiction and poetry

It’s been a strange and awful year
For a sad and lonely man,
Who struggles through life’s raging storms
But simply cannot understand:

Understand why his life is awful
Understand what brought on this dire year,
When nothing in the year has turned our right
And nothing he has known could bring him cheer.

A strange and awful existence
Almost as though he has been cursed,
When no matter how bad one month maybe
The next month is even worse.

A year that is seemingly endless
Just like each new horror the year doth bring,
Though he longs for the nightmare year to end
It is barely a month yet into spring.

In December summertime will start
And the awful year will begin to fade,
And he’s counting down to the New Year
In the hope of seeing better days.

But what if the New Year brings more failure?
And the horror goes endlessly on?
There’ll come a time when he’ll take his life
Knowing his last hope has truly gone.

Yes it is a strange and awful year
A year that brings no hope,
A year to try a saint’s patience
When a mere man can barely cope.

An awful year without a sign of change
An awful time without any respite,
A time when nothing good is born
But when many good things die.

A good new year could change his life
But his life seems to be sure cursed,
And how could this poor man go on
If the new year is even worse!

© Copyright 2021, Philip Roberts
Melbourne, Victoria, Australia