Joey

Note: Joey is another of my very early poems, which I wrote back in 1972.

The poem, which is based on actual events through my ' growing up' hints at the anger, resentment and isolation that I was going through in those troubled times.

It has taken me some time to publish Joey, as even now, after all these years; it hurts.

Any form of bereavement hurts and lingers, including pet and animal bereavement. In Joey's case, I remember him with greater affection than certain individuals back then:



Joey

When I first saw you, I was just a boy,
you were plain ugly, never offering any joy.
But you grew into a friend. A friend of mine,
and although you couldn't fly, you talked fine.
People said "he's a reject": "He can't fly".
They never hurt you. But they made me cry.
I loved my Joey, more than anything,
with his sky blue breast n' his tiny wings.
And although you lived alone in a gilded cage,
you was no sensation, you were never a rage.
The night you passed away, no, I never cried,
'cos I'd ran away from home before my Joey died.

To me, you were human. I taught you to speak.
You looked so tiny, you appeared so weak.
I fed you and loved you, you answered back.
I just ignored those who said what you lacked.
At the height of our relationship, I ran away,
oh! I thought of Joey, what would he say?
Cold in his cage, with no friend to see,
and I wished to the world you could be with me.
And although you lived alone in a gilded cage.
You was my sensation. You was my rage.
The night I returned home, I heard my old man say;
" nice to see you son, Joey died yesterday".
I never would have gone back, if I already knew,
The reason I returned was; Joey, to see you.



Capability Red 1972