Cliff McGuire

Cliff McGuire had an eye
For all that could be sour
Ever seeing darkened grey
In minted gold and flowers.

Though the cobblestones were straight
He eyed them all askance
When he sat amongst the ball
He wouldn’t ever dance.

The shopkeep forced inflation
The cooper’s barrels leaked
The preacher man was boring
The mason’s skills had peaked.

And when some kindly person
Inquired of his health
He’d reckon it an insult
Against his spotless self.

Cliff McGuire never met
A man he could affirm
For his eyes saw nothing but
The wormwood and the worm.

*Cliff McGuire is a fictional character.

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2 responses to “Cliff McGuire”

  1. jimbrooks says :

    I know people like this– they are never happy unless they are unhappy with something.

  2. Janeen Wilson says :

    This poem reminds me (sort of) “Eleanor Rigby” +/or some of the poetry of Edgar Guest. The content is good, also.

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