Here's a poem wot I wrote some years ago - found it scribbled in one of my books last night.

Family Life

Home from work the door opens
He's been drinking on the train
Again.

Only one. Like always.
He arrives through the rain
The same.

No time for the excuses. Heard them before.
Every time he walks in through the door.

The usual question: "What's on TV?"
The usual answer: "Not a lot"
Why not?

I know the next line. It's said all the time.
Right on cue - the line due, ensues:

"I think I'll go out for a couple."
Surprise me some more
What for?

"I'll just have a few"
But it's not true.

Dinner is burning.
He sleeps. Snoring.
Turning.

Mother long left - don't blame her
Won't shame her.

Now I must deal with the loose wheel.
I must not choke on the broken spoke.
Just folk.

Is it always like this?
Is there no other way?
Some day.
Some day.

not bad, not bad at all :D

Me likes alot.

Me follows the opinion above.

bloody fantastic mate!
well done that lad