David "Red" Wiget

He was the good son
and brother, as well;

with a hunger for living
he couldn't quite quell;

his life was his family
'til he sent them, away;

my friend Red, cannot come out to play.

Quite tortured in life
Red still wore a smile,

inspiring awe
but, that was Red's style;

a sponsor, a mentor,
a student of the day;

Red's hope began slipping away.

What I remember of Red is,
he'd never condone,

or explain his behavior
to leave his loved-ones alone;

he could've straightened things out
if he'd had one, more day;

and, that's something my friend Red, would say.

Needing answers, and closure
his wife, daughter, and son,

wonder "why" Red gave up
a life, they'd just begun?

Each promise towards sobriety
Red seemed to betray;

now, my memories of Red.....are just, gray.

About This Poem

Last Few Words: My best friend, a confidant, a co-worker, and my sponsor in A.A.; until after over eleven years sober, he decided to risk his sobriety, and his life....to get "high", one last time. There is no understanding that...or, that some people still don't consider addiction a disease. Thanx, doc.

Style/Type: Structured: Western

Review Request Direction: What did you think of the rhythm or pattern or pacing?
How was the beginning/ending of the poem?

Review Request Intensity: I want the raw truth, feel free to knock me on my back

Editing Stage: Editing - polished draft

About the Author

Region, Country: The High Desert, in the wild west, southern California, U.S. of A.., USA

Favorite Poets: Keates, Poe, Dickinson, and Dr. Seuss. There are a smattering of others, but why bother listing 'em all, ya know?, I also rely on a few of our poets, here....for advice, and what not. I couldn't possibly explain what a fountain of live, effective knowledge we have...right here in our midst ! To catch a glimmer of brilliance, merely visit: the Stream.