In Flew ENZA
WHO had not erred,
its warnings stand,
world governments well knew
sick trick preferred -
few understand -
my species' hops on cue.
Immune award
men must demand
alerts, surveillance too,
coherent chord,
strong words not bland,
sought global overview.
Some ranted, roared,
some risks ignored
in/on_ward health askew,
converge toward
win/win reward
new antibody clue.
Drugs undeterred,
injections canned,
from man to man we flew,
ants may record
Man by the board
like flies dropped, captain, crew.
Genes undeterred,
knocked men deadpanned,
few safe from my stock true;
chromosomes blurred,
nor token stand
so few shall make, 'tis true.
I'm core warlord
of ten thousand
which multiplies by two
upon my word
whenever sand
ticks nanosecond through.
I am true Word
to a viral band
dividing yet anew;
where’er I stirred
in gut or gland,
grief spreads – to each his due.
Few could afford -
swift I expand -
to hesitate while blew
changed winds which bore
diseases and
continue case review.
Infection poured
woe flowed, errand
contagious hullabaloo,
touched sceptre, sword,
none could disband
pandemic's subtle screw.
Card-coded cord,
D.N.A. band,
bound by genetic glue;
a hidden horde,
on every hand
mutating molecu.
As victims soared
some out of hand
perceived the risk that grew,
dire threat explored, -
migration banned -
strategic overview.
My rule stays awed
by chain and strand,
primaeval soup and stew;
perverted curd
bad blood would brand, -
mix death-mask task flask brew.
In prayer implored
strong man, unmanned
with fear, and women too;
to dust restored
stark pale, dark tanned,
some die ere dawn dries dew.
So, silent scored
brave, coward, bland,
pauper, patrician too;
those loved, adored,
the poor, the grand, -
God to his bosom drew.
With one accord
swine fever fanned,
interring not a few;
alarm men heard
in every land
coeval with 'tishoo!
Most, overawed,
saw deaths expand,
from dumb to high I.Q.
mankind deplored
that out of hand
my epidemic grew.
From cats which purred,
to pig sties spanned,
I came from out the blue;
begun with bird,
mutated, grew,
zapped gamma-globulu.
World unprepared
for high demand
of vaccin tamiflu,
for all stay scared;
who can withstand
the queues where sickness slew?
To Man absurd,
to germ ‘tis grand,
bug bear, bare bitten knew,
victims concurred
life's drops like sand
to waste went with adieu!
WHO World Health Organization robi03_1899_robi03_0000 WXX_JNZ
(28 August 2009)
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Related quotes
Elegy on a Brazilian Bug
I was warlord
of ten thousand
which multiplied by two
upon my word
whenever sand
ticked nanosecond through.
I was the Word
to a viral band
dividing yet anew,
where’er I stirred
in gut or gland,
spread grief – to each his due.
Card-coded cord,
D.N.A. band,
bound by genetic glue;
a hidden horde,
on every hand
mutating molecu.
As victims soared
some out of hand
perceived the risk that grew,
the threat explored, -
migration banned, -
strategic overview.
My rule was awed
by chain and strand,
primaeval soup and stew;
perverted curd
bad blood would brand, -
a death-mask was my brew.
In prayer implored
strong man, unmanned
with fear, and women too;
to dust restored
the pale, the tanned,
who died ere dawn dried dew.
So, silent s[c]ored
the brave, the bland,
pauper, patrician too;
those loved, adored,
the poor, the grand, -
God to his bosom drew.
With one accord
the fever fanned,
interring not a few;
until we heard
from a foreign land
of a feared French Institut.
Jet engines purred,
saw Concorde land,
descending from the blue;
the silver bird
God’s globe had spanned
with gamma-globulu.
France had prepared
Brazil’s demand –
her government well knew,
for they were scared,
could scarce withstand
the queues where sickness grew.
To germ, absurd,
to Man, ‘twas grand,
both bug and bitten knew
while men murmured
San Paolo’s sand
would test their techniques true.
Drugs undeterred,
injections canned,
from man to man they flew,
vaccines record
where their errand,
ten million jabs to do.
My genes had erred,
Merieux well planned,
they struck my stock so true!
Chromosomes blurred,
nor token stand
we could not make – adieu!
(24 June 1975)
poem by Jonathan Robin
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A Story
He loved her and he was untrue—
Untrue he was, let loved her still;
For out of nether darkness drew
The winds that lashed his wandering will.
She lived in joy all unaware,
In pain and joy his children bore,
While hidden spectres of despair
Drove him to love her more and more.
And when she knew the truth at last,
Suddenly she grew still and strange.
Her rag of haggard youth was cast
Upon the evil winds of change.
She heard, and could not understand;
She paled, and could not bloom again.
So bland death took her by the hand,
Looked in her eyes and made all plain,
Yes, wise death taught her all, and so,
Smiling once more, she kissed and passed.
And he, caught in life's overthrow,
Faced love and death alone at last.
At last, made strong by love and death,
He gave her truth for truth, and knew
Now she had won his perfect faith.
Dying, she doomed him to be true.
poem by Harriet Monroe
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The Elusive New Zoo Gnu
They had a new gnu at the Zoo
And nobody knew.
Tho' the keeper, they say, had a clue;
And that's probably true,
Since he knew a new gnu was due,
And well he knew, too,
That the mother would hide it from view,
As a natural gnu
Will do.
For the instinct, innate in the gnu,
Known only to few
Is to hide a new gnu lest it rue
What ill-doers do.
Why should nature, we wonder, imbue
A beast like a gnu
With such caution? This fact, hitherto,
Few knew to be true.
Did you?
But they've found it at last at rhe Zoo -
Such a shy little gnu,
White of tail and the coat that it grew
Of indefinite hue.
And now, I suppose, a long queue
Will be waiting to view
This nice little new Zoo gnu.
Such sights ever drew
Quite a crew.
But who knew the new gnu at the Zoo
For the first day or two?
Who guessed where 'twas hidden, and who,
As new rumors flew,
Ever thought, ever dreamed ever drew
Some vague hint, or grew
Suspicious? Where was he? Who knew?
Not the crane, not the white cockatoo
Who ejaculates, 'How do you do?'
Not the apes all emblazoned in blue,
Not the owl with his dreary 'Too-woo!'
Nor tapir, nor tiger who slew
His prey 'mid the ginat bamboo
Once, back of Bengal, in Kooloo;
Not elephant, not kangaroo,
None knew; none knew;
Not aman, not a beast in the Zoo
From its hub to its furthrest purlieu . . .
But the new gnu knew.
Too true!
poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
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Persuit
There's not a thing I would not do
To stay here next to you
Hand in hand, through and through
Submerged in love so true
The story of our love anew
Each morning waking with the dew
Sometimes I try but can't astrue
How much I hope to mean to you
I'd sail the world to Timbuktu
Cross the Nile by canoe
Anything to be with you
Each day and night I would persue
You're better than all else I knew
I cast my cares, my heart then flew
No looking back for my love grew
My darling, I would die for you
Why choose to be 'who'
When you can be 'two'
I'm stuck here like glue
Forever with you
(And I'm so glad I am)
poem by Brandon McConnell
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The Dawn Of Freedom
The wind blew
And the birds flew
Our lake matching with sky blue
Crops we grew
Our mouth stuck together like glue
Under the British rule
We had no clue
On what to do
Any of us was like a fool
Since we had an improved tool
But to use it nobody knew
Chilembwe fought for me and you
And for our offspring too
He has brought something new
Unfortunately he can't view
But his presence shall continue
And our history will always remain true.
poem by Walani Ndhlovu
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Tricks of the light storypoem
He haunts the minstrel’s gallery
and she the great hall down below.
Theirs was a love which could not be.
Which grew into a tragedy.
She was by blood of noble birth
and he of lower yeoman stock.
Regarded as of lesser worth
by powers which then ruled the earth.
They knew that they could never wed
Although their love was strong and true.
She swore that until she was dead
she’d never grace a marriage bed
Her father thought he could demand
obedience from his wayward child.
When she refused his firm command.
He hanged the minstrel out of hand.
She looked her father in the eye
when she was told what he had done
and told him that she’d still defy
his wishes. That he had not won.
Her father did not understand
that she meant every word she said
She took her life by her own hand
rather than wear a wedding band.
It’s said that to the present day.
About the love they were denied
together they still sing and play
Her father’s orders still defied.
Some say that they have heard them sing.
Perhaps they did I can’t argue
I am stone deaf can’t hear a thing
Except the silence echoing
Although I can’t hear properly.
My deafness sharpens up my sight
Sometimes at night I think I see
a couple dancing happily.
I think this tale might well be true.
I feel certain sympathy
but I still have my job to do
but ghosts are not in my purview.
I check on the security.
I see no reason for alarm
That’s my responsibility
which I take very seriously.
When I’m patrolling through the night
I do not claim the things I see
are anything but tricks of light
I do not feel I have the right.
Nobody ask so I don’t say.
I’m wise enough to hold my tongue.
What does it matter anyway
I do my job and earn my pay.
I deal in practicalities
I’m just an ordinary man
Who can believe if I so please
in other possibilities..
28-Jan-08
.
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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The Fair Hills of Ireland
A PLENTEOUS place is Ireland for hospitable cheer,
Uileacan dubh O!
Where the wholesome fruit is bursting from the yellow barley ear;
Uileacan dubh O!
There is honey in the trees where her misty vales expand,
And her forest paths in summer are by falling waters fann’d,
There is dew at high noontide there, and springs i’ the yellow
sand,
On the fair hills of holy Ireland.
Curl’d he is and ringleted, and plaited to the knee—
Uileacan dubh O!
Each captain who comes sailing across the Irish Sea;
Uileacan dubh O!
And I will make my journey, if life and health but stand,
Unto that pleasant country, that fresh and fragrant strand,
And leave your boasted braveries, your wealth and high
command,
For the fair hills of holy Ireland.
Large and profitable are the stacks upon the ground,
Uileacan dubh O!
The butter and the cream do wondrously abound;
Uileacan dubh O!
The cresses on the water and the sorrels are at hand,
And the cuckoo’s calling daily his note of music bland,
And the bold thrush sings so bravely his song i’ the forests
grand,
On the fair hills of holy Ireland.
poem by Sir Samuel Ferguson
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Mist Dismissed
Hope rune reads, deeds renew
true vision reaching through
mist myths, tunes time and place
outside imposed curfew,
restraints which block clear view,
discovers overview,
serenity and space.
Vast vista orange, blue
surpasses déjà vu,
deeds jaded joy erase.
Through intuition's clue
few challenge, none conspue,
line draw, find answers to
empower state of grace.
'Unto oneself stay true! '
flows naturally, on cue,
when 'Brave New World' we face.
Temptations one must rue,
defy, deny, subdue,
prepare just rendezvous
from Kent to Katmandu,
tomorrow's freedoms trace.
To fill hole darkness drew,
advance, direction new
seeds need to tap fresh base,
set doubts behind, review
trust in insight's flight. Who
would counter fate should do
what's needed to replace
uncertainties askew
crass ignorance which grew
through hesitance, disgrace.
Bid bluff, defeat, adieu
let principles, virtue,
encourage fresh debuts
eschewing actions base.
Dark phase ends, one, free, starts, hope turns to find
spark gaze sends sun, heart charts scope, learns true mind
© Jonathan Robin 2 August 2008
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Then and Now
"Build me a nation," said the Lord.
The distant nations heard the word,
Build me a nation true and strong,
Bar out the old world's hate and wrong;
For men had traced with blood and tears
The trail of weary wasting years,
And torn and bleeding martyrs trod
Through fire and torture up to God.
While in the hollow of his hand
God hid the secret of our land,
Men warred against their fiercest foes,
And kingdoms fell and empires rose,
Till, weary of the old world strife,
Men sought for broader, freer life,
And plunged into the ocean's foam
To find another, better home.
And, like a vision fair and bright
The new world broke upon their sight.
Men grasped the prize, grew proud and strong,
And cursed the land with crime and wrong.
The Indian stood despoiled of lands,
The Negro bound with servile bands,
Oppressed through weary years of toil,
His blood and tears bedewed the soil.
Then God arose in dreadful wrath,
And judgment streamed around his path;
His hand the captive's fetters broke,
His lightnings shattered every yoke.
As Israel through the Red sea trod,
Led by the mighty hand of God,
They passed to freedom through a flood,
Whose every wave and surge was blood.
And slavery, with its crime and shame,
Went down in wrath and blood and flame
The land was billowed-o'er with graves
Where men had lived and died as slaves.
Four and thirty years -- what change since
then!
Beings once chattles now are men;
Over the gloom of slavery's night,
Has flashed the dawn of freedom's light.
To-day no mother with anguish wild
Kneels and implores that her darling child
Shall not be torn from her bleeding heart,
With its quivering tendrils rent apart.
The father may soothe his child to sleep,
And watch his slumbers calm and deep.
No tyrant's tread will disturb his rest
Where freedom dwells as a welcome guest.
His walls may be bare of pictured grace,
His fireside the lowliest place;
But the wife and children sheltered there
Are his to defend and guard with care.
Where haughty tyrants once bore rule
Are ballot-box and public school.
The old slave-pen of former days
Gives place to fanes of prayer and praise.
To-night we would bring our meed of praise
To noble friends of darker days;
The men and women crowned with light,
The true and tried in our gloomy night.
To Lundy, whose heart was early stirred
To speak for freedom an earnest word;
To Garrison, valiant, true and strong,
Whose face was as flint against our wrong.
And Phillips, the peerless, grand and brave,
A tower of strength to the outcast slave.
Earth has no marble too pure and white
To enrol his name in golden light.
Our Douglass, too, with his massive brain,
Who plead our cause with his broken chain,
And helped to hurl from his bloody seat
The curse that writhed and died at his feet.
And Governor Andrew, who, looking back,
Saw none he despised, though poor and black;
And Harriet Beecher, whose glowing pen
Corroded the chains of fettered men.
To-night with greenest laurels we'll crown
North Elba's grave where sleeps John Brown,
Who made the gallows an altar high,
And showed how a brave old man could die.
And Lincoln, our martyred President,
Who returned to his God with chains he had rent.*
And Sumner, amid death's icy chill,
Leaving to Hoar his Civil Rights Bill.
And let us remember old underground,
With all her passengers northward bound,
The train that ran till it ceased to pay,
With all her dividends given away.
Nor let it be said that we have forgot
The women who stood with Lucretia Mott;
Nor her who to the world was known
By the simple name of Lucy stone.
A tribute unto a host of others
Who knew that men though black were brothers,
Who battled against our nation's sin,
Whose graves are thick whose ranks are thin.
Oh, people chastened in the fire,
To nobler, grander things aspire;
In the new era of your life,
Bring love for hate, and peace for strife;
Upon your hearts this vow record
That ye will build unto the Lord
A nobler future, true and grand,
To strengthen, crown and bless the land.
A higher freedom ye may gain
Than that which comes from a riven chain;
Freedom your native land to bless
With peace, and love and righteousness,
As dreams that are past, a tale all told,
Are the days when men were bought and sold;
Now God be praised from sea to sea,
Our flag floats o'er a country free.
poem by Frances Ellen Watkins Harper
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The Dream
Believe me, this was true last night,
Tho' it is false to-day.
-- A.M.F. Robinson.
A fair dream to my chamber flew:
Such a crowd of folk that stirred,
Jested, fluttered; only you,
You alone of all that band,
Calm and silent, spake no word.
Only once you neared my place,
And your hand one moment's space
Sought the fingers of my hand;
Your eyes flashed to mine; I knew
All was well between us two.
* * * * *
On from dream to dream I past,
But the first sweet vision cast
Mystic radiance o'er the last.
* * * * *
When I woke the pale night lay
Still, expectant of the day;
All about the chamber hung
Tender shade of twilight gloom;
The fair dream hovered round me, clung
To my thought like faint perfume:--
Like sweet odours, such as cling
To the void flask, which erst encloses
Attar of rose; or the pale string
Of amber which has lain with roses.
The Fair Hills of Ireland, from the Irish
A PLENTEOUS place is Ireland for hospitable cheer,
Uileacan dubh O!
Where the wholesome fruit is bursting from the yellow barley ear;
Uileacan dubh O!
There is honey in the trees where her misty vales expand,
And her forest paths in summer are by falling waters fann'd,
There is dew at high noontide there, and springs i' the yellow sand,
On the fair hills of holy Ireland.
Curl'd he is and ringleted, and plaited to the knee--
Uileacan dubh O!
Each captain who comes sailing across the Irish Sea;
Uileacan dubh O!
And I will make my journey, if life and health but stand,
Unto that pleasant country, that fresh and fragrant strand,
And leave your boasted braveries, your wealth and high command,
For the fair hills of holy Ireland.
Large and profitable are the stacks upon the ground,
Uileacan dubh O!
The butter and the cream do wondrously abound;
Uileacan dubh O!
The cresses on the water and the sorrels are at hand,
And the cuckoo 's calling daily his note of music bland,
And the bold thrush sings so bravely his song i' the forests grand,
On the fair hills of holy Ireland.
poem by Sir Samuel Ferguson
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Outside Imposed Restraints
OUTSIDE IMPOSED RESTRAINED
Hope rune reads, feeds into the tune of time and place
outside imposed restraints, discovers overview
appropriate - each paints, surpassing déjà vu,
nuances which conspue both bluff, pretension base,
insight’s flight lendIng clue to future each should trace.
Each must just Way define, line draw, temptations rue,
before and after twine. 'Unto thyself stay true! '
seems added quite on cue when 'Brave New World' all face.
Keen every mind which knew the need to tap fresh base,
expansion guaranteed, to fill hole darkness drew, -
set doubts behind when greed left bleeding heart - thus grew
the Will to fly anew, uncertainties replace.
Night phase ends, one, free, starts, hope turns, new tack, to find
bright gaze sends sun, the heart’s scope learns to track true mind.
2 August 1999
robi03_0897_robi03_0000 SXX_EJZ
Outside Imposed Restraints Poem (c) Jonathan Robin
poem by Jonathan Robin
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A Ballade of an Anti-puritan
They spoke of Progress spiring round,
Of light and Mrs Humphrey Ward -
It is not true to say I frowned,
Or ran about the room and roared;
I might have simply sat and snored -
I rose politely in the club
And said, 'I feel a little bored;
Will someone take me to a pub?'
The new world's wisest did surround
Me; and it pains me to record
I did not think their views profound,
Or their conclusions well assured;
The simple life I can't afford,
Besides, I do not like the grub -
I want a mash and sausage, 'scored' -
Will someone take me to a pub?
I know where Men can still be found,
Anger and clamorous accord,
And virtues growing from the ground,
And fellowship of beer and board,
And song, that is a sturdy cord,
And hope, that is a hardy shrub,
And goodness, that is God's last word -
Will someone take me to a pub?
Envoi
Prince, Bayard would have smashed his sword
To see the sort of knights you dub -
Is that the last of them - O Lord
Will someone take me to a pub?
poem by G.K. Chesterton
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Tongue-Tied Tim
A loving lad, is tongue-tied Tim.
And if you already know of him,
You'll know he's neither daft or dim,
But strong of heart, and tall and slim,
With a smiling face, that's never grim,
He's certainly not taken with any whim,
But loves all those, who too, love him.
His speech is hard to understand,
But if one can, it's really grand,
To give this lad a helping hand,
When venturing across the land,
Allowed to try out what he's planned,
His vocabulary will for sure expand,
So, on his own feet he'll finally stand.
We're proud of him in every way,
He's stood out robust and brave today,
His life was one of permanent grey,
But he's done well, That I will say,
People's attitude, now that's what lay,
Behind poor Tims downright dismay.
But he's on the up and he's here to stay.
poem by Ernestine Northover
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If I Can Dream
(words & music by brown)
There must be lights burning brighter somewhere
Got to be birds flying higher in a sky more blue
If I can dream of a better land
Where all my brothers walk hand in hand
Tell me why, oh why, oh why cant my dream come true
There must be peace and understanding sometime
Strong winds of promise that will blow away
All the doubt and fear
If I can dream of a warmer sun
Where hope keeps shining on everyone
Tell me why, oh why, oh why wont that sun appear
Were lost in a cloud
With too much rain
Were trapped in a world
Thats troubled with pain
But as long as a man
Has the strength to dream
He can redeem his soul and fly
Deep in my heart theres a trembling question
Still I am sure that the answer gonna come somehow
Out there in the dark, theres a beckoning candle
And while I can think, while I can talk
While I can stand, while I can walk
While I can dream, please let my dream
Come true, right now
Let it come true right now
Oh yeah
song performed by by Elvis Presley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Germ
I took to khaki at a word,
And fashioned dreams of wonder.
I rode the great sea like a bird,
Chock full of blood and thunder.
I saw myself upon the field
Of battle, framed in glory,
Compelling stubborn foes to yield
As captives to my sword and shield—
This is another story.
We sat about in sun and sand,
We broke old Cairo's images,
Met here and there a swarthy band
In little, friendly scrimmages,
And here it is I start to kid
No Moslem born can hit me.
The Germ then that had long laid hid
Came out of Pharaoh's pyramid,
And covertly he bit me.
For some few days I wore an air
Of pensive introspection,
And then I curled down anywhere.
They whispered of infection,
And hoist me on two sticks as though
I bore the leper's label,
And took me where, all in a row
Of tiny beds, two score or so
Were raising second Babel;
But no man talked to any one.
And no bloke knew another.
This soldier raved about his gun,
And that one of his mother.
They were the victims of the Germ,
The imp that Satan pricks in,
First cousin to the Coffin Worm,
Whose uncomputed legions squirm
Some foul, atomic Styx in.
The Germ rides with the plunging shell,
Or on the belts that fret you,
Or in a speck of dust may well
One thousand years to get you;
Well ambushed in a tunic fold
He waits his special mission,
And never lad so big and bold
But turns to water in his hold
And dribbles to perdition.
Where is war's pomp and circumstance,
The gauds in which we prank it?
Germ ends for us our fine romance,
Wrapped in a dingy blanket.
We set out braggartly in mirth,
World's bravest men and tallest,
To do the mightiest thing on earth,
And here we're lying, nothing worth,
Succumbent to the smallest!
poem by Edward George Dyson
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A Ballade of an Anti-puritan
They spoke of Progress spiring round,
Of light and Mrs Humphrey Ward-
It is not true to say I frowned,
Or ran about the room and roared;
I might have simply sat and snored-
I rose politely in the club
And said, `I feel a little bored;
Will someone take me to a pub?'
The new world's wisest did surround
Me; and it pains me to record
I did not think their views profound,
Or their conclusions well assured;
The simple life I can't afford,
Besides, I do not like the grub-
I want a mash and sausage, `scored'-
Will someone take me to a pub?
I know where Men can still be found,
Anger and clamorous accord,
And virtues growing from the ground,
And fellowship of beer and board,
And song, that is a sturdy cord,
And hope, that is a hardy shrub,
And goodness, that is God's last word-
Will someone take me to a pub?
Envoi
Prince, Bayard would have smashed his sword
To see the sort of knights you dub-
Is that the last of them-O Lord
Will someone take me to a pub?
poem by Gilbert Keith Chesterton
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Ballad of the Anti-Puritan
They spoke of Progress spiring round,
Of light and Mrs Humphrey Ward--
It is not true to say I frowned,
Or ran about the room and roared;
I might have simply sat and snored--
I rose politely in the club
And said, `I feel a little bored;
Will someone take me to a pub?'
The new world's wisest did surround
Me; and it pains me to record
I did not think their views profound,
Or their conclusions well assured;
The simple life I can't afford,
Besides, I do not like the grub--
I want a mash and sausage, `scored'--
Will someone take me to a pub?
I know where Men can still be found,
Anger and clamorous accord,
And virtues growing from the ground,
And fellowship of beer and board,
And song, that is a sturdy cord,
And hope, that is a hardy shrub,
And goodness, that is God's last word--
Will someone take me to a pub?
Envoi
Prince, Bayard would have smashed his sword
To see the sort of knights you dub--
Is that the last of them--O Lord
Will someone take me to a pub?
poem by Gilbert Keith Chesterton
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Bearing Arms
Note that those who
Constitutinally (USA) bear arms,
Are those who fantasize using them,
Often with perverted and murderous reason.
I will give hunters, the police and the
Real miltary, the arms they actually need,
No more than that.
If you wish to kill helpless animals
By inner command or outer command
Then so be it.
But the head of your stuffed prey
Will gather crimson dust
On your dire walls,
As you sit swilling etanol
And expand on terrible tales,
One and all.
The military is chiefly the sword
of religiosity, make no mistake.
A world constituted of pure brotherhood
Is the only hope remaining.
War defines mutated holy books.
And the outcome is the death of a species.
poem by Stan Petrovich
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Want To Be Like You
You make me want to be like You
You've shown me how to love
You've given me Your power
That comes from high above
You make this life look different
You make my dreams come true
If there's anyone I want to be like
I want to be like you
You've taught me perseverance
You've shown me how to care
Even though I cannot see You
I always know You're there
For when I’m feeling weary
And when I’m feeling blue
You remind me of how You love me
I want to be like You
You've given my life meaning
You fill my heart with hope
You make my problems trivial
You’ve taught me how to cope
I know I am not perfect
But You made my heart feel new
You paid the prices for my debts
I want to be like You
I’ve learned when things get difficult
When I’m sinking in the sand
You’re always there to pick me up
You’ve always got my hand
For you’re the rock I stand on
And from Your soil I grew
You showed me grace and mercy
I want to be like You
You fill me with Your presence
You’ve shown me how to care
You make our world a better place
You’re the answer to my prayer
Now everything I think of
And everything I do
I picture you up on the cross
I want to be like You
poem by Ryan Lee Morris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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