Sorry
There is much in life that makes me sorry as I journey
down life’s way.
And I seem to see more pathos in poor human
Lives each day.
I’m sorry for the strong brave men, who shield
the weak from harm,
But who, in their own troubled hours find no
Protecting arm.
I’m sorry for the victors who have reached
success, to stand
As targets for the arrows shot by envious failure’s
hand.
I’m sorry for the generous hearts who freely
shared their wine,
But drink alone the gall of tears in fortune’s
drear decline.
I’m sorry for the souls who build their own fame’s
funeral pyre,
Derided by the scornful throng like ice deriding
fire.
I’m sorry for the conquering ones tho know not
sin’s defeat,
But daily tread down fierce desire ‘neath scorched
and bleeding feet.
I’m sorry for the anguished hearts that break with
passions strain,
But I’m sorrier for the poor starved souls that
Never knew love’s pain.
Who hunger on through barren years not tasting
joys they crave,
For sadder far is such a lot than weeping o’er a
grave.
I’m sorry for the souls that come unwelcomed
into birth,
I’m sorry for the unloved old who cumber up the
earth.
I’m sorry for the suffering poor in life’s great
maelstrom hurled,
In truth I’m sorry for them all who make this
aching world.
But underneath whate’er seems sad and is not
understood,
I know there lies hid from our sight a mighty
germ of good.
And this belief stands firm by me, my sermon,
motto, text –
The sorriest things in this life will seem grandest
in the next.
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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Related quotes
Under the Pines
"LIFE is sad," says the wind in the pines
To the still soul listening,
While the pale, pale day declines
Like a white bird on the wing.
"Life is sad," says the quiet earth
5
Under the churchyard wall,
Where the spring flowers have their birth
And the autumn leaflets fall.
"Life is sad," say the daisies that blow there
And stretch out their heads to the sun;
10
"Life is sad," say the poor hearts that go there
To weep when the day's work is done.
"Life is sad," from below, from on high,
From forest and meadow and tree,
From the clouds that drift over the sky
15
And the days that die into the sea.
Then up and be brave with thy sorrow,
Like a man with his face to the blast;
Not from hope of the joys of to-morrow,
Nor rest when the warfare is past;
20
But strong that weak souls may grow strong,
That men may take heart by the way,
Till the heavens break forth with the song
That will herald eternal day.
poem by Frederick George Scott
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Sonnet: Wisdom in Life
’Tis good to do some good things in our life,
And use all opportunities, God gives,
To mitigate the suff’rings that is rife;
In poor of hearts and honest souls, God lives!
’Tis better to avoid doing great harm;
When God is good, how can He bear evil?
’Tis better to till off sins from soul’s farm,
Not solicit favors from a devil.
’Tis best to do a lot of good in life,
And do the things our conscience tells is right;
’Tis best to help our fellowmen in strife,
And fight for justice’s cause with all our might.
Sin is a sin when fail we in duty;
But God can forgive us yet, what beauty!
poem by John Celes
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Lux In Tenebris
When first the Gods, whose Empire is eternal,
In Time’s deep chalice poured Life’s sacred wine,
Flashed all the crystal cup with fire supernal;
Then said they: “Shall the mortal be divine?
Shall man usurp the ways the Gods have trod?
Who quaffs this cup, himself should be a God!”
So tempered they the measure of their giving,
And mingled germs of evil with the good;
So mixed they death with the fierce fire of living,
And anguish with the joy of motherhood;
And with the balm of peace a weird unrest,
And an unformed desire in every breast.
So set they discord in the sweetest singing,
And a sharp thorn about the fairest rose;
And doubt around the cross where faith was clinging,
And fear to haunt the regions of repose;
And dimmed men’s eyes, so that they should not see,
Like Gods, the vistas of futurity.
They coloured failure with hope’s rainbow splendour,
And tinged the hour of triumph with regret;
Made strength subservient to the weak and tender,
And wisdom, folly-caught in beauty’s net;
Till unto man life’s wine was bitter-sweet—
Betwixt the perfect and the incomplete.
Then said the Gods—the Gods who live for ever—
“Let us shower gifts upon the soul of man,
That he may catch a glimpse of our endeavour,
And yet not solve the Universal Plan.
For, though Life’s deepest truths be near to find,
Man shall behold and see not, being blind!”
Thus, to the blessing of the Gods descending,
The universal curse and shadow clung;
The mystic evil with the glory blending
That mars the aeons since the world was young.
For upon all whom the High Gods had blest
There fell the quenchless fever of unrest.
Then rose a ferment and an exaltation,
And all men’s souls were thrilled and stirred within.
There came a prophet unto every nation
To teach new doctrines of the source of sin;
And men arose as Gods, and creeds began
To preach th’ Eternal Godhead one with man.
And ever, thro’ all lands, with waves sonorous,
Rolled on from age to age the stream of song
Which made low valleys sweet with rhythmic chorus,
And shook the rock-bound hills with music strong,
And flushed and fired men’s souls like fumes of wine—
Yet was but human! . . . not a song divine!
For, lo! thro’ all that seemeth inspiration
Enters the curse that blurs created things;
Beyond the barriers of our limitation
Not ever yet a soul has spread its wings!
Nor has been yet, nor ever shall there be,
A perfect song—a perfect harmony!
O music of the wind and of the ocean!—
O Power that sways the glory of the spheres!
O aching hearts that vibrate with emotion!
O mystery of Life! O human tears!
What light shall lead us thro’ the wilderness
From out the Egypt of our bitterness?
O Poets, round whose souls, since the beginning,
Strange echoes tremble and wild visions throng,
Ye all have heard the sweetness of the singing,
But no man knows the meaning of the song
That lifts our frail souls heavenwards with its strain—
Then flings us bleeding to the earth again!
Brothers, my soul has quickened with your gladness.
I, too, have sorrowed over human woe.
I, too, have felt the terror and the madness
That all who seek for truth and light must know.
My faint heart falters in the bitter strife—
The labyrinths of the mysteries of Life.
What hope—what comfort—in our desolation?
What ray to pierce the blackness of our night?
To weary hearts, what balm of consolation
That earth is finite, heaven is infinite?
What tho’ the hand of Faith still points the way—
The voice of Reason ever brings delay.
Nay! tho’ Life’s secret be beyond our dreaming,
And all the creeds that sway the world untrue,
A radiance creeps aslant the shadows gleaming
Whose golden arrows pierce the darkness thro’.
If all our errors hold one germ of right,
The paths that lead to truth are infinite!
Throughout all nature and throughout creation
A Power Supreme its manual sign has writ.
In pain and stress, thro’ aeons of gradation,
Shall the weak soul of man decipher it;
For, since the spirit is above the clay,
Man shall not know th’ Eternal in a day.
Yet, tho’ we know not their immortal places,
And tho’ their footsteps are not heard of man,
And tho’ with mystery they veil their faces
And bid us search the Universal Plan,
And tho’ to all there cometh with Life’s breath
Suffering, and doubt, and weariness, and death—
I sing Eternal Hope and Strong Endeavour,
Truth shining down a myriad aisles of thought;
I sing the deathless souls of men, for ever
By strange, wild paths to one vast triumph brought.
The God in Man—the hunger of the soul—
One with the Wisdom that inspires the Whole!
poem by George Essex Evans
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Not Understood
Not understood, we move along asunder;
Our paths grow wider as the seasons creep
Along the years; we marvel and we wonder
Why life is life, and then we fall asleep
Not understood.
Not understood, we gather false impressions
And hug them closer as the years go by;
Till virtues often seem to us transgressions;
And thus men rise and fall, and live and die
Not understood.
Not understood! Poor souls with stunted vision
Oft measure giants with their narrow gauge;
The poisoned shafts of falsehood and derision
Are oft impelled 'gainst those who mould the age,
Not understood.
Not understood! The secret springs of action
Which lie beneath the surface and the show,
Are disregarded; with self-satisfaction
We judge our neighbours, and they often go
Not understood.
Not understood! How trifles often change us!
The thoughtless sentence and the fancied slight
Destroy long years of friendship, and estrange us,
And on our souls there falls a freezing blight;
Not understood.
Not understood! How many breasts are aching
For lack of sympathy! Ah! day by day
How many cheerless, lonely hearts are breaking!
How many noble spirits pass away,
Not understood.
O God! that men would see a little clearer,
Or judge less harshly where they cannot see!
O God! that men would draw a little nearer
To one another, -- they'd be nearer Thee,
And understood.
poem by Thomas Bracken
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Sonnet- There Are Some Righteous Ones
There are goodmen who can't be bought with ease;
There are quite some who can't tell lies at all;
There are some souls who want just mental peace;
There are some ones who will not ever fall.
There are some men who labour hard and sweat;
There are some ones who get a paltry sum;
There are some souls who stay always in debt;
There are quite some who take whatev'r may come.
There are some men who trudge all through their life;
There are some ones who sacrifice their lives;
There are some souls who love God more in strife;
There are quite some who resist many wives.
There are some souls who gain heaven on earth;
There are ones who make earth heaven by birth.
poem by John Celes
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The War
Strangers are the souls in the world of the wars
The lives cradle somehow between the death and life
They try to survive the hardship of the life the abject truths of life are there with all their ugly faces
The mercy of hearts are extinguished
The spirits at the cruelty of the men got lost
What the eyes sees the heart ignores
Ah strangers are the souls at the winter night they shiver alone
Like wounded birds they are pale ignored
Alone in this world no place for the broken souls
People are selfish their hearts deny to see others pain
Only in the war you can clearly see the simple truths of the world,
poem by Sossi Khachadourian
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Vigilant
To pluck more men from the fire, on this day, is my heart’s desire,
To lead men to the light of Truth, so they won’t see God’s reproof,
Not a small rebuke my friend, as eternal darkness will be their end,
In those eternal flames of wrath, should they stay the present path.
I know this day my Redeemer lives, while new life to men He gives,
To all who call on Jesus Christ, God shall give to them Eternal Life.
All who’ve been deceived by men, who by God, stand condemned,
Must be reached with salvation, that comes from God’s Revelation.
Holding forth the Word of God, to spare men from God’s iron Rod,
The judging rod of God’s own Son, to judge the heart of everyone,
According to His Word we herald, not to some, but to all the world,
For when Christ returns again, His Judgment shall fall upon all men.
We need to reach men’s hearts, before the soul from earth departs,
Reach all men for Christ our Lord, helping the stray, to be restored,
Back, to The Rock of all Ages, through the Holy Scripture’s pages,
Where we find the only True Light, to lead lost souls from the night.
By The Savior I have been sent, with the Gospel, and to be vigilant,
To reach souls, as time is short, and soon all souls, Christ will sort,
And all men in the Book of Life, will enter eternity with Jesus Christ,
But, souls of those missing names, will be cast into eternal flames.
Mater Dolorosa
Who is this that sits by the way, by the wild wayside,
In a rent stained raiment, the robe of a cast-off bride,
In the dust, in the rainfall sitting, with soiled feet bare,
With the night for a garment upon her, with torn wet hair?
She is fairer of face than the daughters of men, and her eyes,
Worn through with her tears, are deep as the depth of skies.
This is she for whose sake being fallen, for whose abject sake,
Earth groans in the blackness of darkness, and men's hearts break.
This is she for whose love, having seen her, the men that were
Poured life out as water, and shed their souls upon air.
This is she for whose glory their years were counted as foam;
Whose face was a light upon Greece, was a fire upon Rome.
Is it now not surely a vain thing, a foolish and vain,
To sit down by her, mourn to her, serve her, partake in the pain?
She is grey with the dust of time on his manifold ways,
Where her faint feet stumble and falter through year-long days.
Shall she help us at all, O fools, give fruit or give fame,
Who herself is a name despised, a rejected name?
We have not served her for guerdon. If any do so,
That his mouth may be sweet with such honey, we care not to know.
We have drunk from a wine-unsweetened, a perilous cup,
A draught very bitter. The kings of the earth stood up,
And the rulers took counsel together, to smite her and slay;
And the blood of her wounds is given us to drink today.
Can these bones live? or the leaves that are dead leaves bud?
Or the dead blood drawn from her veins be in your veins blood?
Will ye gather up water again that was drawn and shed?
In the blood is the life of the veins, and her veins are dead.
For the lives that are over are over, and past things past;
She had her day, and it is not; was first, and is last.
Is it nothing unto you then, all ye that pass by,
If her breath be left in her lips, if she live now or die?
Behold now, O people, and say if she be not fair,
Whom your fathers followed to find her, with praise and prayer,
And rejoiced, having found her, though roof they had none nor bread;
But ye care not; what is it to you if her day be dead?
It was well with our fathers; their sound was in all men's lands;
There was fire in their hearts, and the hunger of fight in their
hands.
Naked and strong they went forth in her strength like flame,
For her love's and her name's sake of old, her republican name.
But their children, by kings made quiet, by priests made wise,
Love better the heat of their hearths than the light of her eyes.
Are they children of these thy children indeed, who have sold,
O golden goddess, the light of thy face for gold?
Are they sons indeed of the sons of thy dayspring of hope,
Whose lives are in fief of an emperor, whose souls of a Pope?
Hide then thine head, O beloved; thy time is done;
Thy kingdom is broken in heaven, and blind thy sun.
What sleep is upon you, to dream she indeed shall rise,
When the hopes are dead in her heart as the tears in her eyes?
If ye sing of her dead, will she stir? if ye weep for her, weep?
Come away now, leave her; what hath she to do but sleep?
But ye that mourn are alive, and have years to be;
And life is good, and the world is wiser than we.
Yea, wise is the world and mighty, with years to give,
And years to promise; but how long now shall it live?
And foolish and poor is faith, and her ways are bare,
Till she find the way of the sun, and the morning air.
In that hour shall this dead face shine as the face of the sun,
And the soul of man and her soul and the world's be one.
poem by Algernon Charles Swinburne
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the Way To Success
failure may outnumber success
failure is there
to make you strong
failure may cause pain
but nothing goes in vain
failure keeps you in touch
with reality
failure gives wisdom
failure gives experience
cowards don't fail
It's for the brave
who leave the shore
to sail into unknown
failure is a stop
in the journey of life
don't stop at the bend
today's failure would be
tomorrow's bigger success
failure is the cradle
in which success rocks.
failure is not a sin
failure is the first step for success
failure teaches you how to succeed
failure always helps in your success
failure helps you from failing
if you fail, it's not the end of the world
try!
success will definitely be on your way
so will run away your failure
but...
never forget your failure in life which helped you in your
SUCCESS
poem by Liioona Mohie
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Death
To the souls who live beneath our feet
To souls burdened by the dreadful dirt.
When I think of thee my heart beat
My soul to the ground, I feel thy hurt.
Through sympathy I think
Thou know the end of mirth
And life here and what it's worth
Please! speak to me so I may give birth
To thy anguish above on beautiful earth.
Me received no reply but a deep buried sigh…
For the leaden stone covers thy head
The squalid worms live in thy bed
I see thou drink from the roots of flowers
and thy see each one to its final hours.
As time passes
Slumber do thee too
Under the pure white snow
where frigid frost freezes thy bones
into an icy blue
I feel your pain can never move;
a pain no living soul can ever know….
Suddenly I hear a voice murmur from inside of me...
Thou speak quietly while we sleep in peace
And in our memories thou silent voices cease
Till we see a name carved on grave's cement stone
Thou souls beneath remain unknown
My Love reaches the depths of death's dark seat but my life lives upon my light feet... never again will I love, but always shall I live? I hope...
To the souls whom I love beneath my feet
May I tread softly and saunter sweetly as if life's a treat.
Till the death's knight comes again to ravenously eat
My flesh away, then only and then
I swear our souls shall meet again.....
poem by Kevin Michael Murphy
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Crematorium
Crematorium, the Eternal Truth
Keeps the account of death,
the Eternal Truth,
Eternal souls
perish from this transient earth.
The fire of the crematorium
Sings the glory, dignity of
Eternal soul with glee and mirth.
The pebbles, the dust, the tinny bushes,
the tulsi plant are pure and sanctified,
awaits for human souls,
beloved’s life leaving behind the lover,
she is a devastating deity
remains on the river valley for ever.
All the human beings get the icy touch of death;
the melody of crematorium
reverberates in the mild breeze
touching the pure “Indravati’s” water
blaming the human life’s birth.
Man comes to go,
“Indravati” goes on for ever, she is the witness
of all the souls’ departure, dazzles, smiles with
the mystery of earth with
glittering transparent water.
Man commits mischief
Being aware of death’s call.
Worldly attachment, entertainment makes him
blind, hesitates to dedicate his life
for the service of the poor, destitute
hoards money for future,
desires to remain behind wealth’s wall.
Oh God! How wonderous is thy creation!
The beggar begs from door to door
to reap the result of past life,
the rich enjoys in palatial
buildings with wine and woman
freeing his transient tension,
though life is uncertain.
poem by Vavroovahana Patra
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Men Of Good Fortune
Men of good fortune
Often cause empires to fall
While men of poor beginnings
Often cant do anything at all
The rich son waits for his father to die
The poor just drink and cry
And me, I just dont care at all
Men of good fortune
Very often cant do a thing
While men of poor beginnings
Often can do anything
At heart they try to act like a man
Handle things the best way they can
They have no rich, daddy to fall back on
Men of good fortune
Often cause empires to fall
While men of poor beginnings
Often cant do anything at all
It takes money to make money they say
Look at the fords, but didnt they start that way
Anyway, it makes no difference to me
Men of good fortune
Often wish that they could die
While men of poor beginnings
Want what they have and to get it theyll die
All those great things that live has to give
They wanna have money and live
But me, I just dont care at all
Men of good fortune
Men of poor beginnings
Men of good fortune
Men of poor beginnings
Men of good fortune
Men of poor beginnings
Men of good fortune
Men of poor beginnings
...
song performed by by Lou Reed
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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They Struggle Through Life
They struggle through life as they battle with stress
Those born and raised at an unfashionable address
It is a long hike to success and renown
For those who are born at the poor side of town.
Their parents in jail for serious crime
And they become hardened criminals before their life's prime
Homeless in their early teens life hardened and street wise
The wounded eagle from the ground cannot rise.
They are the poor souls on whom drug dealers prey
And from Poverty Street it does seem a long way
To the road to success from the pit of despair
From the poor side of town success stories are rare.
Like their parents of success they stand little chance
They are the poor victims of bad circumstance
Their sense of self esteem is damaged beyond repair
And you cannot tell me that all in life is fair.
poem by Francis Duggan
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The Skylark's Message
SWEET little upturned faces,
Poor little hands and feet,
Little eyes that are careworn and anxious
From hunger and want in the street,
Hear ye that skylark singing
5
Like an angel far away?
'Tis bringing to you a message
From the Golden Gates of day.
Ah, little know ye of the meadows,
Poor little blistered feet,
10
Down in the smoke of the city,
Down in the noise of the street!
But it sings of a better country,
Where tired little hearts can rest;
Of a sun that shines for ever,
15
And the love of a Father's breast.
O poor little weary spirits,
I would that ye knew its song,
For the world is very heartless,
And your journey may be long;
20
And ye need such heavenly music
To cheer you in the night,
Little hearts that are now so noble,
Little souls that are now so white.
I would that ye heard it always,
25
That sweet bird's voice within,
When the heart is sad and lonely
In the long, long struggle with sin;
Till a rest comes out of the sunset
For the labouring hands and feet,
30
And a silence has fallen for ever
On the noise and the dust of the street.
poem by Frederick George Scott
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Guardian Angels
Guardians tread
In and out of our lives
They guide and protect
Souls lost in the dark
Should war demand
That we kill or fight
They are there
To give strength
And be brave
In our plight
Should shadows of darkness
Engulf the journey of life
They are there to help
To support and give light
They help carry burdens
As we struggle in life
Their our guardian angles
They give us new life
They sooth the prayers
Of family and friends
The sooth the nightmares
To make way for dreams
They are the….
Moonbeams that dance
Upon the sea, upon the land
They guide the stars
We gaze upon
They dance upon
The sunbeams of life
They whisper and smile
At our journey in life
Their voices caress
Sweet melodic songs
They gently blow
On the waves and the breeze
They reach out to guide
What's sacred in thee?
Our souls, our hearts
Our humanity
poem by Kaila George
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Not Understood
Not understood, we move along asunder;
Our paths grow wider as the seasons creep
Along the years; we marvel and we wonder
Why life is life, and then we fall asleep
Not understood.
Not understood, we gather false impressions
And hug them closer as the years go by;
Till virtues often seem to us transgressions;
And thus men rise and fall, and live and die
Not understood.
Not understood! Poor souls with stunted vision
Oft measure giants with their narrow gauge;
The poisoned shafts of falsehood and derision
Are oft impelled 'gainst those who mould the age,
Not understood.
Not understood! The secret springs of action
Which lie beneath the surface and the show,
Are disregarded; with self-satisfaction
We judge our neighbours, and they often go
Not understood.
Not understood! How trifles often change us!
The thoughtless sentence and the fancied slight
Destroy long years of friendship, and estrange us,
And on our souls there falls a freezing blight;
Not understood.
Not understood! How many breasts are aching
For lack of sympathy! Ah! day by day
How many cheerless, lonely hearts are breaking!
How many noble spirits pass away,
Not understood.
O God! that men would see a little clearer,
Or judge less harshly where they cannot see!
O God! that men would draw a little nearer
To one another, -- they'd be nearer Thee,
And understood.
poem by James Brunton Stephens
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Child Of Fire
Born into darkness in saturns sight
Riding the night like the wind
Ripping the heart form a world that is right
Treading the borders of sin.
Child of fire
The souls that are damned
By the pain that you bring
Send you higher
Slashing destruction, your right hand sword ringing
To the ends of the earth you will fly
Conquering masses in wanton deception
Blood-red your black flag waves high
Child of fire
The souls that are damned
By the pain that you bring
Send you higher
Look around, is this the end that you have foreseen
The pain, the misery in us all
What was it that you knew? will we one day learn it too
And together build another way, to the morning
Or will it ever come again
Youve poisoned all our hopes
We have nothing now, and what of the children
What has this done to them? damn you for the pain
That they must feel
The last hero standing no time to turn back
Hes listening, he waits for your call
The black barren plains reflect the hope of the same
For one only waiting to fall
Child of fire
The souls that are damned
By the pain that you bring
Send you higher
song performed by by Queensryche
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Jesse James
When Jesse James was a lad
He killed many a man
And he roamed over the Scarsdale range
Robbin' from the rich
And givin' to the poor
He was dark and cold and full of rage
Oh yes he was, sing with me
Poor Jesse had a wife
To mourn for his life
And three children
They were oh so brave
But that dirty little coward
He went and shot Mr. Howard
Laid poor Jesse in his grave yeah
It was on a Saturday night
When Jesse was at home
Talking to old railroad Jed
Along come Robert Ford
Like a theif in the night
And he shot poor Jesse in the back
Poor Jesse had a wife
To mourn for his life
Three children
They were oh so brave
But that dirty little coward
He went and shot Mr. Howard
Laid poor Jesse in his grave yeah
He lays
Six feet under the ground
song performed by by Bob Seger
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Great Chicago Fire
The great Chicago Fire, friends,
Will never be forgot;
In the history of Chicago
It will remain a darken spot.
It was a dreadful horrid sight
To see that City in flames;
But no human aid could save it,
For all skill was tried in vain.
In the year of 1871,
In October on the 8th,
The people in that City, then
Was full of life, and great.
Less than four days it lay in ruins,
That garden City, so great
Lay smouldering in ashes,
In a sad and pitiful state.
It was a sad, sad scene indeed,
To see the fire arise,
And hear the crackling of the flames
As it almost reached the skies,
And sadder still, to hear the moans,
Of people in the flames
Cry for help, and none could get,
Ah, die where they remained.
To see the people run for life;
Up and down the blazing streets,
To find then, their escape cut off
By the fiery flaming sheets,
And others hunting for some friend
That perhaps they never found,
Such weeping, wailing, never was known,
For a thousands miles around.
Some people were very wealthy
On the morning of the 10th.
But at the close of the evening,
Was poor, but felt content,
Glad to escape from harm with life
With friends they loved so well,
Some will try to gain more wisdom,
By the sad sight they beheld.
Five thousand people were homeless,
Sad wanderers in the streets,
With no shelter to cover them,
And no food had they to eat.
They wandered down by the lake side,
Lay down on the cold damp ground,
So tired and weary and homeless,
So the rich, the poor, was found.
Mothers with dear little infants,
Some clinging to the breast.
People of every description
All laid down there to rest,
With the sky as their covering,
Ah, pillows they had none.
Sad, oh sad, it must have been,
For those poor homeless ones.
Neighboring Cities sent comfort,
To the poor lone helpless ones,
And God will not forget them
In all the years to come.
Now the City of Chicago
Is built up anew once more,
And may it never be visited
With such a great fire no more.
poem by Julia A Moore
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Petty 'Things
so you want my first dollar
because you say ill then see you naked
but ill tell you, it's not been easy
gathering crap and puling at weeds
braving the rains and swallowing sun rays
with a hooded sweater to chase away the cold
and with a bottle of water to soak the scotching rays
your body might be all treasure and glory but NO!
so you want me crawling in the mud
because you say i hurt you
but ill tell you, I've got manhood beneath
once jailed, twice broken but forever standing
i have been behind brave bars but didn't flinch
i've stood besides the mighty grave but i still smile
I might have broken your heart, destroyed your soul...
but i also have a life and a God to please so i say NO!
While we sulk over broken hearts, in failed relationships
a mammoth are nursing woulds, in burning battlefields
While we hind to do the nasty things for our hearts longing
there are thirsty souls searching for a paradise of goodness
while we spoil our chances in mistaken decisions
someone is looking to the sky for a promise
Roses, champagne, linqour... these petty things
the rich sacrifice many poor souls to have them...TEARS!
poem by Timothy muggaga
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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